to keep me company now,” he answered, confirming what Reed had just been thinking.
“Yes, well, if you think of anything else regarding Everett, will you give me a call?”
“Absolutely. Goodbye now.”
Reed hung up the phone, a strange skittering tickling his spine, wondering why his call with the man had given him a case of the creeps.
I’m sorry I can’t offer more. But now, that would hardly be fair. He’d laughed, as though it was a joke, but it was weird. Did he know something he was choosing to hold back for some reason?
This killer of yours, he has an endgame.
Endgame?
“Endgames” weren’t typical of serial killers. But then again, neither was using the plot of a comic book series to commit brutal murders. Was all this leading to some final conclusion dreamed up by the now-deceased creator of Tribulation?
Reed stood there, looking out at the Cincinnati skyline mostly unseeing, all the information in his brain swirling, drifting, coming together and then moving apart.
Reed’s father had had an endgame, hadn’t he? An endgame that no one figured out in time.
A ball formed in Reed’s stomach. He needed those final Tribulation editions. He needed to know how this all ended, and if their killer was on the path to recreating some bizarre conclusion.
He heard the soft patter of footsteps behind him and turned, smiling to see a sleepy, mussed Liza. “Hey,” he said, turning. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
She shook her head, walking to where he stood and wrapping her arms around his waist. He gathered her to him and kissed the top of her head, breathed her in. Calm descended. “Who were you on the phone with?”
“Actually, I was on the phone with Gordon Draper.”
She bent her neck to look up at him. “Really? Why?”
“Because for some strange reason, this case keeps leading us to his grandson, Everett.”
Liza paused, a crease appearing between her brows. “Everett? But Everett’s—”
“Dead, I know. Did you know him well?”
She shook her head. “Not really at all, except through his grandfather who would speak about him on occasion.” She paused. “He was a nice boy . . . quiet . . . troubled. Actually, he was at that camp with me, the one I told you about? His parents died and—”
“Camp Joy?” A flash of surprise caused Reed to drop his arms, turning so he could look at her more closely.
She nodded. “It was the only occasion I spent any time with him, and even then, only because we were in the same cabin.”
Camp Joy . . . the same cabin . . . “So you knew him?” Reed asked, voicing his thoughts aloud as his mind scrambled to piece . . . something together.
“No, not really but—”
His phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts. He swore softly, taking it from his pocket. Ransom again.
“Coffee,” Liza mouthed, pointing toward the kitchen. Reed nodded as he connected the call.
“Sorry, man,” Ransom greeted. “Your day off’s gonna have to wait.”
His stomach sank. “What happened?”
“Another body. I’m told this one is . . . odd. And our guy left it at Spring Grove Cemetery.”
Spring Grove Cemetery? “I can be there in twenty,” Reed said.
“See you then.”
Reed went into the kitchen where Liza was adding coffee to the machine. Regret knotted in his gut. Fuck, he’d wanted a whole day with her. Just them. She turned, her eyes meeting his. “You have to go in,” she said. It wasn’t a question, just a statement, and there was no whine or bitterness behind her words. He appreciated that. So much.
“I’m sorry. It’s the last thing I wanted.”
She pressed brew and walked to him, putting her arms around his neck. “I figure as the woman of a homicide detective, I’d better get used to it.”
Reed grinned. Damn, that sounded at least semi-permanent, and he liked the hell out of it. “It’s not always like this. But there are times . . .”
“Like now,” she said, kissing him briefly on his lips and stepping away. “Get going, Detective Davies.”
He started to turn and then turned back. “Hey . . . I wouldn’t normally ask this, but can you do me a favor and stay in while I’m gone?”
She frowned, leaning a hip against the counter. “Are you worried about my safety?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t have any specific reason to think so but—”
“Reed,” she said. “If you have a feeling I should stay in, I’ll stay in.”
“Thank you,” he breathed. “For trusting me. It might be