"You're one sneaky almost-doctor. If the med thing doesn't work out, you could always become a P.I."
She wrinkled her nose. "Ew. No. That job would be so boring. All those stakeouts and waiting and dealing with people's stupid shit problems. No thanks. I'll stick to medicine."
Wind howled outside her bedroom window, and a tree branch snapped against the glass startling us both so much we screamed, then laughed. But Bridgette's smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. She held my hand and kissed my cheek.
"What was that for?"
"You saved my life. I never thanked you for that. You and Ash, both. I know it scared you, what he did."
I was about to object but she cut in before I could speak.
"I can see it in your eyes every time his name is mentioned, but Catelyn, he saved me. Don't punish him for that. I think you two have something special. I can see it every time you're together. It's like you orbit each other like planets magnetically linked. Don't lose that, you might never find it again."
"Are you using Twilight quotes against me now?"
"Maybe, but it's true. Just think about it, okay?"
I nodded and reached for the paper in her hand. I didn't recognize most of the names. "There's so many."
She handed me a yellow highlighter. "Mark everyone on the list you know or have met."
I did as she said, and when I was done we reviewed the names. "I put a star next to everyone I met that night, since I don't know if they count or not. I'm pretty sure we can eliminate all of these people though. I mean, none of them seem like a serial killer or psychopath."
"Isn't that what they always say about guys like these?" she asked. "They seemed so normal, so ordinary."
"I guess. But it's so hard to fathom anyone at that party could be responsible. It makes me sick to imagine. We're talking about people like my college mentor, the Davenports, your family. This all seems ludicrous." I handed the paper back to her. "What about the people I don't know? Anyone jump out as dangerous?"
She scanned it. "Maybe. I mean, there's some high profile celebrities here, a few powerful judges and politicians, and then your average rich investor or businessman. But I see what you mean, no one screams psychopath."
I sighed and flopped back on the bed. "Let's hope the police are better at this than we are." Something about my words tugged at my mind.
"No kidding."
My phone rang, and I picked it up. Three minutes later I hung up and stood. "We have to go to the police station. They have questions about our guest list."
"Will we see that detective again?"
The detective… I scanned the list and found an Aaron Gray. It had to be his name. With my headache at the hospital, I wasn't able to make the connection. But the detective had been at the party. And when the Midnight Murderer called, his phone had been busy.
Chapter Twenty Three
Rejection
DETECTIVE GRAY MET us at the front and escorted us to his office. "Where's Detective Reynolds?" I asked as Bridgette and I sat down.
"He had a heart attack while on leave and has been forced into an early retirement. I'm taking over his cases permanently." He sat behind his desk and opened a file with a list of names we'd already gone over.
"Oh my God. Is he going to be okay?" I shivered, partly for Reynolds, partly because Detective Gray may have killed my parents.
"If he takes care of himself, he should be. Look, I need to apologize." He scratched at the scar over his eye. "I was an arrogant asshole the first time you came in. It was a hard day. A friend of mine was just killed on the job, and I had to tell his family. I wasn't in the mood to deal with a cold case, and I handled it poorly."
My attitude toward him softened, and I remembered something my mother always used to say. You never know what a person's going through. Someone who lashes out at others needs more understanding and kindness than anyone. I felt bad for how I'd treated him and my suspicions. "I'm sorry for your loss. And, sorry I was a bit of a snarky bitch."
He pushed the file toward us. "We know the killer was at the party. We've interviewed everyone who'd been present, and only one person has a criminal record."
My stomach clenched.
Gray pulled out a picture and showed us. "Ashton Davenport the Third."
"Isn't it possible that the murderer doesn't have a record?" I desperately didn't want Ash fingered for this. He couldn't be the killer. I'd know if it was him. I'd recognize his eyes, or his touch, something.
"It is. But the level of escalation this guy has shown makes it unlikely. Most people don't start by killing a family," he said.
"Right. They start small. Animal torture, acting out in other ways," I said, recalling my criminal psych classes.
"So for him to make it to adulthood with multiple murders under his belt and no arrests is possible—"
"But unlikely," I finished.
Bridgette flipped through the file, then put it down. "What if the killer isn't on the list?"