me, as your life left you, for failing to protect you?
Every doubt and insecurity he’d ever harbored came swamping through him. What right did he have to try to go on with his life when Lana no longer could? What right did he have to apply for a commanding role, when he’d had the role once before and given it up? When doing so had cost him Lana, had driven a wedge between them, and for all he knew, had driven her to act so recklessly that it had gotten her killed. He’d fucked everything up, just like he was fucking up this case.
He hadn’t been able to stop another attack. Hadn’t been able to stop Lana from being killed. Hadn’t seen how troubled DeMarco had gotten. Hadn’t kept Nina from being hurt again and again and again...and most recently, by him.
Instinctively, he moved closer to Lana’s headstone. He touched the smooth surface as if doing so would grant him a physical connection with the woman he’d once loved.
The breeze suddenly picked up and swirled around him. Simon closed his eyes. Envisioned Lana’s beautiful face. He could swear for a second that he smelled her. Heard her.
But it didn’t comfort him. All it did was make him remember that he’d lost her.
And that, one way or another, he was going to lose Nina, too.
Help me, Lana, he thought. Help me to understand what’s going on. Who is this killer? What’s motivating him? He’s killing for a reason. To prove something. But to whom?
Me? Nina? The mentally ill? The cops?
Who is he targeting?
To his surprise, the answer came to him, not in Lana’s voice, but his own.
Maybe he’s targeting all of us at once.
But why? And more important, who could pull off something like that? Who did Simon know that could carry out that kind of vendetta without getting caught? Whoever he was, he was dancing circles around the police, staying one step ahead of them despite the advanced security systems that had been put in place.
As the questions swirled through his mind, Simon’s vision focused on the epitaph that Lana’s parents had engraved on the elegant marble.
Two words on the tombstone came into stark relief.
Beloved Daughter.
BD.
It couldn’t be, he thought.
But was it really that much crazier than any of the other theories he’d come up with?
He’d thought Lester Davenport’s grief over losing his daughter had driven him to murder. He’d even briefly considered whether the same thing had motivated Rebecca Hyatt’s father to strike out. Couldn’t that same reasoning apply to Gil Archer, who’d lost his daughter, too?
What if BD didn’t stand for someone’s name but something else? Something like an endearment.
Beloved Daughter.
Davenport and Hyatt had blamed Nina for the deaths of their daughters. Who did Gil Archer truly blame for Lana’s?
The cops for not protecting her?
A mentally ill man for killing her?
Simon for breaking up with her before she was killed?
Nina for working with Simon, and even dating him, after his daughter no longer could?
It made sense. More sense than anything had up to this point.
If Simon was right, Gil Archer was going after all of them.
And he was winning.
* * *
AFTER LEAVING THE CEMETERY, Simon hit the ground running. After a brief stop at SFPD to put together what he needed, the first thing he did was visit Rita Taylor and show her a photo lineup that included Gil Archer’s photo. Unfortunately, Rita’s identification didn’t go exactly as planned, and Simon was now having to move to Plan B—a plan that he needed Jase and Carrie’s help to carry out.
“That’s quite a theory,” Jase said after whistling in amazed disbelief. He leaned back in his desk chair, hands folded against his chest. “But I have to say, given the security systems that have been tampered with, especially the parking lot security tapes, it makes sense. Archer set up our security system, did you know that?”
“I did,” Simon said. “And it’s something I definitely considered in wading through all this. And in formulating my plan.”
“It’s a good plan,” Jase said, “if a little risky. You really think she’ll go through with it?”
Simon thought about the woman Jase was referring to—Rita Taylor. “She said she will. Naturally, she’s scared, especially after everything I’ve said about her needing to take her own protection seriously. But showing her the photo lineup didn’t work. She said a couple of the men, including Archer, looked like the guy, but she couldn’t be sure. She insists she needs to see the man up close, see