Unsolved (Invisible #2) - James Patterson Page 0,74

she says. “I was just reading the social media summaries on Citizen David. Looks like he’s no longer the golden child.”

It’s true. David has taken a big fall since Chicago. He’s repeatedly denied any involvement in the bombing, via his middle-of-the-night, untraceable posts on Twitter and Facebook, but the public has largely turned against him. Social media comments about him are mostly negative now. Editorial boards that once gently scolded him for his victimless crimes now denounce him for killing two hundred people in Chicago or for spawning a copycat who did.

She sizes me up, her eyes focusing on the coffee in my hand.

“That’s not for Assistant Director Ross, I hope,” she says.

“Well, it was…”

“No, no, you’re not doing that anymore. That’s ridiculous. You’re not his errand girl.”

So she is the reason the morning coffee delivery is coming to an end. She said something to Dwight. He outranks her, but somehow, she made him stop.

“Thanks,” I say, not sure how else to respond.

She waves me off. “Just keep doing your work, Emmy. You’re doing a good job. More than good. And he knows that. That’s the problem, actually. Sometimes, the men around here—well.” She thinks a moment, then shakes her head. “Anyway, keep doing good work. You’ll be fine.”

I wish that were true, that good work was all it took around here.

“You still think Mayday was murdered,” she says.

I’m about to speak, but a big caution flag is waving in front of me. Once I start, there’s no stopping. The only way I can explain why I think Mayday was murdered is to point out the similarities between his murder and all of Darwin’s other victims. Which means I would have to tell her about Darwin too.

And though she’s scoring points with me now, I can’t trust her to be a full-fledged ally. She could run right to Dwight Ross with it, and I’d be shut down.

Not now, I think. Identify Darwin first. Find him. Then you can tell her.

“I can’t argue with a forensic pathologist,” I say. “Dr. Janus doesn’t think he was murdered. Who am I to say otherwise?”

Her eyebrows move, a brief wrinkle in her forehead. “That doesn’t sound like you,” she says. “Giving up so easily.” Her eyes narrow, like she’s trying to read between the lines. Like she’s trying to read me.

“You don’t want to tell me,” she says. “You don’t trust me.”

“No, that’s not—”

“No, it’s all right.” She sits back in her chair, throws her pen onto the desk. “If I were you, I probably wouldn’t trust me either. We haven’t exactly made it easy on you, have we?”

There’s no point in my responding to that.

“You still don’t think Citizen David is responsible for the bombing in Chicago, do you?”

I shrug, trying to be noncommittal.

“Off the record,” she says. “I hereby grant you immunity for any answer you give.” She waves an imaginary wand.

“Immunity from whom?” I ask. “From Assistant Director Ross?”

She leans forward, puts her hands together. “Emmy, I want a result here. I want a solve. Your track record earns you the benefit of the doubt. And I think there’s a reason you don’t think Citizen David did Chicago. There’s a reason you think Mayday was murdered. You won’t tell us why. You won’t tell us because you’re afraid you’ll be accused of going off on some wild—well, basically, what Dwight accused you of yesterday. You’re afraid Dwight will fire you.”

She couldn’t have said it better. I didn’t give Elizabeth enough credit.

“Tell me,” she says. “Me. Not Dwight. If it doesn’t make any sense, I’ll tell you. You know I will.” She chuckles. “And if that happens, it will stay between us.”

I’m still not sure how to respond to this sudden thaw in our relationship. Can I believe Elizabeth Ashland?

“If what you’re thinking sounds credible, like something we should be pursuing,” she says, “then let’s pursue it.” She opens her hands. “So let’s hear it.”

I take a breath.

“Trust me,” she says.

73

SO I tell her everything. With a flutter in my stomach, and against my better judgment, I tell Elizabeth Ashland everything I know, everything I suspect, about Darwin’s crimes and the Chicago bombing. There is something cathartic about it, about laying out everything and making my case, though it’s tempered by the unknown—whether she will believe me and, more important, whether I can trust her.

She could run right to Dwight Ross and tell him that I’m off on some harebrained quest again. I’d be packing my bags by the end of the