Ransom’s face screwed up. “Your bio father? Dude. No. Wait, slow down. Talk to me, man.”
“I talked to Gordon Draper this morning, Ransom. And I talked to him a few days ago too. But that isn’t possible because Gordon Draper was dead.”
Ransom let out a slow breath. “Shit.” He looked to where there were several uniforms standing near the path, the first officers on the scene most likely, and a few more who they’d probably end up putting at the front gate. The scene was organizing. More CPD employees were arriving. Soon, the place would be swarming. “Do you feel sure about that?”
“Yes,” Reed said. “Very. No one else could have done an imitation that convincing.” He’d read about his father’s crimes, knew exactly how he’d committed them, convincing even the smartest and most observant people he knew with his dead-on impersonations.
Reed took a few steps back to Lewis. “Is the cause of death the same as the other victims?” he asked, gesturing to his own neck.
Lewis looked up. “No, actually. That’s the other odd part. Eyes are intact and this man—Draper, you said?—was killed with a stab wound to the heart.” He used a gloved finger to move the jacket the man was wearing aside, showing a blood-soaked shirt beneath, a black hole directly over the man’s heart. “What do you make of it?”
Reed’s own heart echoed hollowly. “Okay,” he mumbled, only realizing after he’d walked away that he hadn’t responded to Lewis’s question. He felt like he was trapped underwater.
“The MO is all different,” Reed said. “It’s like he tried to recreate it, but either failed, or didn’t care to get the details right.” He wanted it to appear related but . . . not?
“So you think the Hollow-Eyed Killer is someone completely different?”
Reed nodded, even while doubt ricocheted through him. Was he right? Or could Charles Hartsman be the Hollow-Eyed Killer? And if so, why? What motive would he have?
Casus Belli, Charles Hartsman had written on the wall above what had been believed to be his final victim. The war is ended.
But maybe that had been a lie?
“I don’t know, Ransom. I don’t think Charles Hartsman committed the other murders. His physical description is completely different than the one the witnesses who saw Julian Nolan being coerced up the stairwell gave. No, this one”—he gave his head a nod to the body behind him—“seems different. Out of place completely. But . . . we can’t rule anything out.”
Ransom’s expression held deep worry. “Okay. We’ll call Sergeant Valenti first, and see how he wants to handle this.” Ransom paused. “I think I agree with you though. It doesn’t feel like he’s been our perp all along. But what reason would he have to involve himself in any of it?” he asked. “Charles Hartsman? To come back to Cincinnati, risk getting caught, intrude on an ongoing murder investigation”—he waved over to the prone body of Gordon Draper—“kill again, if he in fact did that as well?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” His father. Charles Hartsman. He’d spoken to his father this morning, not Gordon Draper. He couldn’t fathom why or how, but he knew he was right. He knew he was.
Why kill Gordon Draper though? Why in the world would Charles Hartsman murder a retired hospital director?
His mind scrambled, trying to recall what Hartsman had told him.
He ran a hand through his hair, going back over his conversations with the man over the past week. “He told me about Tribulation,” he said. “He’s the one who gave me that tip.”
“Okay,” Ransom said, a worried frown creasing his brow. “Listen, let’s let the techs do their job and get out of here. We’ll call Sarge on the way. We’re going to need to get inside Gordon Draper’s house, Reed. And the sooner the better. Then we’ll brainstorm.”
Oh shit. What if Charles Hartsman was still there? No, he wouldn’t be that stupid. Reed’s mind careened from one thought to another. He’d killed a man and then impersonated him. He wouldn’t be hiding out in his house. They still needed to check it out. And stat.
“Let’s go.”
They jogged to the officers near the road, telling them they had a tip to check out, and to guard the scene closely. “You got it,” one of the men said.
“Did you guys drive together?” he asked the man and his partner. They both nodded. Ransom pulled his keys from his pocket and handed them to the officer. “That’s my car over