“What do they have, Ruth. Tell me. Tell me!”

She started to cry, wrapped her arms around her body and rocked gently to and fro, a boat cast adrift in an increasingly dangerous swelling sea.

He sucked in a breath through his nose. Losing his temper now wasn’t what they needed. Ruth would scuttle off if he showed his true rage, shut down and rock for hours, just like when she was little. He used to follow her home from school, sneak her off into the woods and play. Chess mostly, checkers and backgammon were too easy. She was good at keeping secrets, but if she went on overload, she’d turn off, retreat into that precious, special little world she had and he wouldn’t get anything more out of her tonight. And damn if he didn’t need her help, one last time.

He softened his tone, bent to her level.

“I’m sorry, Ruth. I’ve had a hard day. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Conciliatory wasn’t his forte, and she sniffed and turned her head away. He decided to try a different tack.

“You can tell me. I promise I won’t get mad.”

She didn’t look up. Spoke in a tiny voice. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

She wrapped her arms tighter around her legs, like she could disappear into herself. “My laptop is on my desk. I didn’t bring it with me. I thought I’d have a chance to go home. Things have been so crazy, moved so fast… Then Harvey decided he wanted to do the boy here, and we got behind on the schedule and had to rush to Nags Head.” She broke off, sensing he was about to blow his load.

“Your laptop. With all the emails?”

“Yes.”

The emails that led directly to him. Well, it was nearly time to vacate the premises anyway, the last stage of the plan was about to go into motion. Time to let the acolytes make their move. See if they were as good as he hoped.

Ruth had started her industrial-strength rocking. He needed to pull her out before the trance got too deep.

“Ruthie, what if I told you someone needed to die? Today, as a matter of fact. Not Harvey—you can keep him. I know you like him. Would that cheer you up?”

He saw her eyes slide toward him. Bloodthirsty little beast. He knew the idea of death would get her attention.

“Who?” she asked, voice small and childish.

“Colleen Keck. The blogger. It’s time for her to go.”

Ruth unfolded from the floor, scooted over to him with a feral little smile on her lips. She looked up with doe eyes for permission, which he granted. She stroked his leg.

“Harvey’s already on her. He’s been watching her since we left North Carolina. She was the first stop when we got back, I left him at the top of her street, before I came here. He’s got it covered.”

“No, my sweet. I want you to do it.”

“Why? Not that I wouldn’t be happy to, of course, you know that. But I thought you wanted her left alive until the very end. You’ve changed your mind?”

He stood and walked to the window, leaving Ruth crumpled on the floor like a discarded lotus flower. “Yes. I’ve changed my mind. That’s my prerogative.”

“But you always told me to stick to the plan—”

“Ruth, no buts.”

“I thought I got to kill the other woman.”

He looked over his shoulder. “After the mess you made of things in North Carolina? No, Ruth. You don’t get rewarded for fucking up.”

Rock, rock, rock.

“Don’t pout, Ruthie. Keck will be fun. I promise. She’s become a liability. Too smart for her own good. She’ll figure out the victim pool anytime now. Those perverted, stupid idiots on her site blew the surprise. So she has to go now, before she alerts anyone else. This is a big favor for me, a personal favor. You know what happens when you do me personal favors, right?”

“I get to ask a favor in return.”

“That’s right. You’re such a good girl. Now go. Take care of this pesky bitch for me.”

Ruth got to her feet. “Yes, Ewan. If you say so.”

“I say so. Take off. I have other things to do. And, Ruth? You know what to do if you’re caught.”

Her lips turned down and her face got white. “Yes, brother.”

He watched her scramble from his apartment and sighed. Maybe he should have given in to the impulse to have her die back in North Carolina? No, what’s done was done. Her mistakes would accelerate the plan. While the Jackson bitch was smart, she wasn’t a magician. He knew Ruth was telling the truth—she’d tried to keep his secrets. He’d been so careful to cover his tracks. New names every year. New cities. New faces, too. Ruth was the only one alive who knew who he really was, the rest of his family was dead or gone. His mother especially, she was bat shit crazy, didn’t even remember she’d had children. He’d gone to see her once, three years earlier. Just to be sure. Her brain was mush, the years of insanity and the cancer drugs had turned it into psychotic cornmeal. She saw devils on the shoulders of her guards, who had to force her to bathe since she’d developed a fear of water. She’d become a regular Medusa, her hair twisted into smelly, unkempt dreadlocks. She’d been trapped inside her own mind.

No, he was safe on that account. He had no concerns about anyone finding out the truth. The bitch was dead.

But he had the final three chess pieces moving toward him. Which would it be? Who would win the game? Who would be found worthy? Which pawn would cross the length of the board and have the chance to watch him kill Jackson, in the method of the winner’s killing profile? He’d chosen his three favorite historical killers for the last. Watching her die by any of their methods would be good fun.

The million dollars was incentive, certainly. They were all highly motivated. If he had to lay down odds, he’d have to say the young lad from Boston was the likeliest candidate. When they’d talked, he seemed calmer than the rest, more mature. More focused. He was independently wealthy, so he wasn’t in it for the money. Not like California—he was in debt up to his ears, his house had been foreclosed on, he had no ties, no foundation. And an extra long trip—probably not fair, stacking the odds against him like that, but he was so obviously mercenary. Sadly, his boy from Long Island was riding the edge. He was unpredictable, maybe even crazy. No, he thought Boston was the real contender.

A new apprentice. How very exciting.

He smiled to himself as he watched Ruth drive away. There were words she used to say to him when they were children. They held no meaning for him before, but as he grew older, they finally, finally started to make sense.

Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.

He was Ruth’s God. Just like he was about to become Taylor Jackson’s God. Time to finish this. He was getting bored. He understood bostonboy’s impatience, sometimes challenges grew tedious. They had to be resolved, or else they were just open-ended tasks. Sisyphean.

He turned from the window and grabbed his lanyard with the laminated badge that spelled out her doom. Strung it around his neck and looked down at the smiling visage, the face that even he barely recognized anymore.

Oh, yes, Taylor. It’s nearly time.

November 8

Thirty