“Better?” Joe asked.
Don grimaced. “First Thorne, a murder that had similarities to several of Poe’s stories but didn’t really parallel any of them. But this…this was on the money. She was found by the river. Relatively near the spot where Mary Rogers was found. Found in pretty much the same…state of decomposition.”
“But this investigation will be very different,” Eileen said firmly.
“And how is that, Eileen?” Nat asked her.
“Science,” Eileen said. “The police have so much more to work with these days. What is it, Joe? At every crime scene, the killer inadvertently takes something away or leaves something behind. Isn’t that true?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Maybe not a really clever killer,” Barbara said, shuddering and turning to look at Joe with wide, frightened eyes.
“They’ll catch this guy, I’m certain,” Joe said firmly.
Barbara nodded, as if she trusted his words.
“Let’s hope they catch him before—Well, soon,” Lou said.
“She was a slut,” Lila pointed out.
“Oh, Lila!” Nat Halloway protested. “No one deserves to die like that.”
“I didn’t say she deserved to die like that,” Lila said irritably. “It’s just that…we reap what we sow.”
“The killer will be caught,” Joe said again, and his words were followed by an uncomfortable silence around the table.
“Well, I, for one, should be calling it a night,” Larry said. “The presses wait for no man.”
“We should probably all get moving,” Lou suggested. “It was good to see everyone, though.”
Goodbyes were said, and eventually only Eileen, Adam, Joe and Genevieve were left. Eileen slid back into her seat and patted the chair beside her. “Adam, it’s so nice to see you. Have a seat.”
Joe was staring at Genevieve, who sat down across from her mother. She was dying to ask him about the afternoon, but this didn’t feel like the right time.
Without waiting for an invitation, Joe sat down next to her and stared intently across the table at Adam. “So. Which one of them called you?” he asked. “Eileen or Genevieve?”
Lie, Genevieve silently begged Adam.
He didn’t. “Genevieve,” he said evenly.
Joe nodded. “Right. Well, this is a dangerous situation.”
“Maybe I can help,” Adam told him.
“Maybe Genevieve and Eileen should leave town for a while,” Joe said.
“Joe,” Gen began, ready to argue.
But Eileen laid her hand on her daughter’s arm to silence her and looked at Joe. “We could. But, Joe, if someone out there is determined that Genevieve or I should die, that someone will find us wherever we go. I believe it would be best to stay here and get to the bottom of this.”
“What did you discover today?” Adam asked Joe.
“Don was right. The killer did a much better job of imitating Poe this time,” Joe said.
His voice was cold and hard. Gen could only imagine what he had seen today. “You were in New Jersey all this time?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “I’ve been at the hospital. To see Sam,” he said. He looked around the table, meeting their eyes as his gaze went to each of them in turn. “There was another attempt on his life.”
Gen told herself that it was natural for Joe to want some time alone, given everything he’d seen and done that day. But inside, she knew that his decision not to be with her tonight had nothing to do with the day he’d had and everything to do with the fact that she had called Adam—and he was too smart not to suspect why.
The good thing was that at least Joe seemed to trust the older man. Of course. He’d met Adam Harrison through Leslie. And at least Adam didn’t correct Joe’s apparent assumption that the three of them had all come to O’Malley’s together.
And so Joe left alone, after suggesting that Gen stay at her mother’s house that night.
Genevieve would have protested, but Eileen said, “Please, dear. Just tonight.”
So, an hour later, she was in the den, speaking with Adam, who had gone back with the women, ostensibly to make sure they were safe.
“He’s really angry that I called you,” she said.
“He had a bad day.”
“That’s not it,” she said.
“Have you ever been to an autopsy?” he asked her.
“No. But that’s still not it.”
“Genevieve…he just needs time alone.”
“Right. Because he thinks I’ve betrayed him somehow.”
“Give him time. Let’s talk about you.”
“Me? I had a nightmare,” she admitted.
“What was it about?”
She hesitated then, feeling as if someone had taken a cube of ice and run it straight down her spine. “It was about being strangled,” she said. “Oh, God.”
“Oh, God…what?”
“It was as if I…”