“The interview with Reisman was sort of a bust.” Ethan slanted a glance at Alexa, who seemed too still, too damn pale to his eye. The man was a snake, and it’d been all Ethan could do to allow him to spit his venom at Alexa. In the end, little new information had been revealed, so the scene had been unnecessary. She’d suffered too many hits, coming too fast together. He didn’t doubt her strength; he knew better than most what she’d been through. But even the strongest person had a breaking point.

She shook her head. “Nothing that gives us a new perspective on the offender is wasted. Reisman revealed far more to the UNSUB than he gleaned in their meeting, that’s true enough. But I’m stuck on the comment Anis Tera made about having a family.”

Ethan glanced at the clock on the dash. They wouldn’t make Lawler’s autopsy. He’d known that. But Nyle had gone and hopefully they’d hit the tail end of it. “Isn’t that just something he’d say to get Reisman comfortable? Like the way he spouted Bible verses.”

She turned a bit in her seat to face him, her expression becoming more animated. “Yes, very possibly. But most people couldn’t have gone to see the man on a pretense and done the same. Few are familiar enough with random Bible quotes to use them as freely as he did when he spoke to Reisman. So today wasn’t a waste. It verified my belief that the UNSUB uses religion to condone his behavior. That he steeps himself him a faith-based system. I think he may have been raised in a family that adhered to a strict religious upbringing. He got the foundation from somewhere, before he perverted it into a rationalization he uses now.”

“So, was he blowing smoke about having a family?”

“I can’t be sure,” she admitted, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. She’d worn it down today. With her hair loosened, she seemed younger. More vulnerable. He had a feeling that she’d been running late this morning. Maybe she hadn’t slept well last night. God knew, he hadn’t.

A slow heat bloomed low in his gut and he shifted uncomfortably. Ethan had gotten used to living his life by the book the last few years. Life had thrown him enough curves that he’d come to welcome some predictability. But there’d been nothing predictable about his response to her last night. Nothing expected about him throwing caution to the winds and diving headlong into the fire.

Maybe he could have forgiven himself the lapse had he discovered that the chemistry had been inflated by memory. That the intervening years had burned it out.

Maybe—his hands clenched on the wheel—she could have pulled away. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d kissed him back. And that had sealed his complete loss of reason.

“A-and…you didn’t hear a thing I said.”

He looked at her blankly. “What?”

Her lips curved. “Do you still zone out thinking about hockey statistics, or is your mind on the case?”

He seized on the excuse she’d offered. “Just thinking it was wise for us to talk to Reisman’s neighbors after we left his house. The lady two doors down gave a description of the UNSUB as he walked away that was a lot closer to the one we got from the kid yesterday. What were you saying?”

“You asked if I thought the offender really had a family. I wouldn’t give the remark a lot of credence, given the context in which it was made. But it does raise an interesting question.”

“Not all serial offenders are lonesome losers without a support system in place.”

Her brows shot up. “Someone’s been paying attention. Yes, you’re right. This offender is perfectly capable of juggling two lives and keeping them separate. I don’t have an opinion on whether or not he has a family. There’s just not enough information.”

And that, Ethan thought, as he pulled into the parking lot for the Burnside morgue in Halifax, could be the summary of the case so far against this offender. Maybe Dr. Conrad could give them a few more details.

The skull on Jeanette Lawler’s body was being sewn up by one of Conrad’s techs when Ethan and Alexa entered the autopsy suite. Nyle and the ME were hunched over something at the back counter. The officer sent a look over his shoulder. “Didn’t think you were going to make it.” He searched their faces. “Learn anything important?”

“Nothing we didn’t already know.” Like the UNSUB’s obsession with Alexa was causing him to take the sort of risks he’d avoided throughout his criminal career. Which told Ethan that the offender had much more in mind for her than a few communications. It was exactly that fear that had him wanting to keep her in the background of the investigation, despite Gagnon’s wishes.

She brushed by Ethan with the laptop and briefcase she’d grabbed from the front seat to join the men in back. “What’d you find in the victim’s mouth?”

“She was minus her tongue, which Officer Samuels informed me you already knew about.” Conrad looked at her over the top of the glasses perched on his nose. “That’s a very personal message the killer sent to you. What do you think he was trying to tell you?”

“I assume he wants to go steady.”

“You need to take his focus on you seriously,” Ethan said, more sharply than he intended. The two other men nodded soberly.

Alexa blew out a breath and set her laptop on the counter. Booted it up. “He wanted to get my attention. Sending the tongue to me was him showing off. ‘Look at what I can do. See my power?’ So, when I go on TV today, I’ll acknowledge that power. Play to his ego. And do everything I can to continue to draw him out. Because the more risks he takes, the more likely it is that he’ll screw up.”

Conrad stared at Ethan. “I trust your men will see to her safety.”

“That’s the plan.” One meeting with Alexa and even the recalcitrant ME’s protective instincts had risen to the surface. Giving a mental head shake, Ethan came to a stop behind her. There was something about her that drew men in, had them rising to her defense. And she was as oblivious to that trait now as she’d been as a girl.

“You received the organ? I sent it over yesterday from Truro.”

Conrad nodded. “DNA tests will be run, of course, but the cutting marks match. It’d been removed by a small sharp blade. A scalpel perhaps. Or possibly a skinning and caping knife. It’s not especially easy to cut the tongue out. Hence the slicing, chopping and sawing marks I found. I found a contusion on her scalp beneath her hair, on the left rear portion of the skull. Not nearly as much force used for the head wound compared to the first victim you brought me.”

“Because she was already impaired by alcohol, maybe,” Nyle put in. He moved aside to allow Alexa more room.

“Or she was weaker and less difficult to overpower.” Ethan positioned himself to Alexa’s left. The familiar dragonfly was lying on a sterile cloth in front of her. But it was the contents of the glassine bag she held that he was interested in. She used a pair of forceps to withdraw one insect from it and laid it beside the dragonfly. Conrad handed her a magnifying glass.

“Jesus,” Ethan muttered. He couldn’t get used to the nonchalant way she handled the bugs. And this was a big one even without the magnification. Not that he was squeamish about that sort of thing. “Is that some sort of cockroach?”

“Looks like a relative of the grasshopper,” Nyle observed, peering closely.

“Your guess is closer than Ethan’s. It’s a good-sized specimen,” Alexa set the glass down and sent Ethan a sly smile, half-lifting the paper towel the bug rested on toward him. “Did you want a closer look?”

He remained rooted in place, but it took effort not to move away. “Brat. What is that thing?”

“Anabrus simplex. The common name is Mormon cricket, but it’s actually a katydid, not a cricket at all. They’re flightless, except when they’re craving protein and salt, during which time they swarm and are quite destructive to crops.” She reached into her briefcase and took out her reading glasses, putting them on before leaning forward and bringing up several articles about the insects, clicking out of each before he was even half way done skimming it. “Found in the range areas of North America. Ah.”

She went silent then, long enough for Nyle to say, “Well?”

“They’re known to cannibalize members of their own species, usually, again, when craving protein and salt. The slowest and weakest, of course, are the likeliest candidates.” She tapped an index finger thoughtfully against the counter.

“Well, that sort of makes sense, given the removal of the tongue.” When everyone looked at Nyle, he flushed. “I mean…given Lawler’s profession. She was known for inviting high-profile controversial guests and then pulling the rug out from under them during the show. That’s predatory behavior, if you ask me.”

“You have to consider how the UNSUB would view it.” Ethan looked at Alexa. “He wouldn’t have sympathy for the type of guests Lawler had on. Few people would. So, I don’t see this as retribution for her treating people unkindly on her show.”

“The Mormon crickets prey on the slowest and weakest among their species,” she repeated. Then went silent for a moment as if thinking. Finally, she said, “I don’t know if the UNSUB is saying Lawler secretly preyed on other people in some way, or on females in particular. But whatever her perceived sin, he saw it as worthy of death.”

Ethan looked at the ME. “Sorry for hijacking the procedure here.”

The man waved a hand. “I’ll admit to being a bit fascinated. I had an insect collection when I was a kid.” That was actually a thing? Ethan wisely swallowed the question as the man went on. “As I was telling Officer Samuels earlier, tox screens will take a couple of days, but Lawler’s blood alcohol level was two point oh three, which is well beyond the legal definition of impairment. She ate approximately six hours prior to her death, which may be when she consumed the wine she drank.”

“Most of the clubs closed at three-thirty. A few at four,” Ethan said. And they’d missed her at every one of them.

“Like Simard, her hands had been treated with bleach and the nails clipped.” Dr. Conrad strode back to the stainless-steel table on which Lawler’s corpse laid. “No defensive wounds are present. Manner of death is unclear.”

“So she didn’t die from having her tongue cut out.”

“It’s possible a person could die from having the lingual artery severed, if that person had no assistance and was unable to stem the bleeding. However, the removal of the tongue occurred only minutes before death.” Conrad leaned down to inspect the sutures around the skull, before straightening again. “As your colleague will tell you, I found three sets of numbers written on her shoulder in what appears to be ink from a pen. Two of the numerals were worn off.”

“A phone number?” Ethan’s gaze shot to Nyle’s. “And you didn’t lead with that?”

The other officer smiled smugly, holding up a sheet upon which he’d jotted the digits. Two spaces were empty.

“Can I see?” Ethan asked the ME.

Seeming more amenable than he’d been the last time they’d been here, Conrad waved him over. He levered the body upward so Ethan could peer at the writing. “Definitely seems like a phone number,” he murmured. The two last digits were indecipherable, although there was still ink visible. He stepped back, looked at Alexa. “What are the chances the offender wrote those digits?”

She cocked her head as if considering for a moment. “I don’t recall anything in the file similar to this. I think it’s unlikely to be from him. With whom would he be communicating? He already has access to me. If he wanted to send a number, he’d do so.”

Ethan nodded. It would have represented another deviation for the offender. Not that he hadn’t engaged in his share of them in recent days, but those had all involved Alexa in some way. Which was the source of the simmering worry that had lodged in the back of his mind.

No, these numbers were likely related to Lawler’s night out before her death. And given the activities Bixby had indicated she engaged in on such nights, someone who was interested in her might written them.

And he very much wanted to talk to that person.

He thanked the ME. After Alexa collected her things, they left the suite and headed for the parking lot. As soon as he reached an area with cell-phone reception, Ethan texted the rest of his team in New Brunswick. He needed them here. If there were still interviews to conduct, one of the men could stay in the other province and finish them, but he could the additional assistance for the most recent victims. The tip line they’d established might just be about to pay off. They needed more bodies to conduct the most promising interviews.

“How are you planning to use the partial phone number written on the body?” Nyle asked as they walked outside into the bright sunlight. “No way we get a warrant on all the possible variations.”

“One hundred.”

Both men’s heads swiveled toward Alexa. “That’s how many combinations there would be after filling in the missing digits.”

“She used to tutor me in math,” Ethan told Nyle.

Alexa smiled. “I did not.”

“You could have. You just refused.”

They’d reached the car. “You didn’t need help with any subject. You just used that as a reason to keep talking to me.”

“Mad skills with the ladies even back then, eh?” Nyle laughed.

“She did help me with English a couple of times.” Ethan unlocked the car, and they got in. “She used to read Voltaire. For fun.”

Nyle feigned a shudder. Looked at Alexa over the seat as he fastened his seat belt. “What’s wrong with you?”

“The numbers?” she reminded them patiently.

Ethan returned his attention to the case as he drove out of the parking lot. “We can computer-generate all the possible combinations of the phone numbers.” He ignored the muttered remark from the back about doing the exercise in his head. “Then we can leave automated messages for the recipients to call our tip line if they saw her last night.”

“We’d still have to double-check on all the numbers that don’t call in, but that would be a faster way to hear from potential witnesses,” Nyle noted.

“I called one of the officers manning the tip line on the way back from Truro. He’s forwarding a list of the updated messages every few hours. I say we prioritize those and take some of the interviews ourselves.” Lawler’s photo and the message to the public had appeared in local papers this morning. Sifting through the deluge of calls to find the ones worth checking out would be a chore of its own.

“I guess you haven’t heard the news about the memorial service,” Nyle said.

A hard knot of trepidation formed in the pit of Ethan’s belly. He wasn’t a big fan of surprises. “Enlighten me.”

“It was Conrad’s tech that mentioned it to me,” Nyle informed him. “Apparently, there’s a movement afoot to have a candlelight vigil this evening in Victoria Park in memory of The Tailor’s two most recent victims.”

Ethan looked at Alexa in the rearview mirror. Caught her gaze on him. “Will he be there?”

“Ordinarily, I’d say no,” she answered slowly. “I think it’s unusual for this UNSUB to stay in the area after a kill. He calls the homicides a ‘mission.’ And that doesn’t sound like someone who would get a rush from standing around and reveling in the emotional aftermath the way some killers do. I think the bigger question is…do we want to try and lure him there?”

* * *

“I’m still not sure about this,” Ethan muttered later that afternoon. They were sitting in an interview room at the Halifax RCMP divisional headquarters, waiting to be summoned for their remote appearance on a national newscast. As before, the setup had been left to Gagnon’s office. This time, the filming would take place on scene, rather than at the television station.

“Captain Campbell seemed to think that trying to lure the UNSUB to the memorial vigil was low-risk,” Alexa reminded him. She’d put her hair up again before their arrival here and donned a black jacket that matched her slacks. The makeup artist that he’d sent away had found a more willing subject in her. Once again, her smooth, polished demeanor was intact. He found himself preferring her appearance this morning. “You’ll have ample time to get preparations in place. And I’ll be surrounded by a police presence.”

He was aware of the advantages and disadvantages of the operation. He and Nyle and Alexa had debated them thoroughly before the conversation with Campbell. It had reached the point where Ethan had to ask himself whether he’d have the same reservations if Alexa weren’t involved. The answer was uncomfortable. She changed everything, and he couldn’t allow that. He’d sworn from the beginning that she wouldn’t be a distraction in this case. It was time he started remembering that vow.

When he’d spoken to Gagnon yesterday, Ethan had been adamant that Alexa not use the news conference to try to connect with the UNSUB. He hadn’t wanted to cement the UNSUB’s obsession with her. But like it or not, the connection was already happening, on the offender’s terms. As much as it pained him to admit it, it was time to shift the balance of control. He had to reluctantly accept that fact that Alexa could help toward that end.

“We’re ready for you.” A harried-looking woman led them quickly down the hallway, and out the front doors. Then she spent more time than he thought necessary positioning them for optimal impact outside the building while avoiding a glare from the banks of windows.

He ignored the cameras and tried not to fiddle with his ear mic, which he found damn annoying.

A moment later, the mic was activated. “…here with us now in Halifax, RCMP Sergeant Ethan Manning, lead investigator and Dr. Alexa Hayden, the profiler consulting on the case. Sergeant Manning, can you speak to your attempts to rescue Jeanette Lawler yesterday evening?”

He kept his remarks brief, factual and undramatic, ending with, “We want to extend our condolences to the victim’s family, and assure them that we are actively pursuing a number of leads to bring the killer to justice.”

“And what can you tell us about those leads, Sergeant?”

“We now have a second sketch of the person of interest in this case.” He knew that the drawing Patrick had worked on with the forensic artist this morning and the one Fornier did were now showing on the screen. “This man changes his appearance as he moves about in public. If you see this individual, do not approach him. Instead, quickly call the number on the screen.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. And now here’s a picture of the latest victim, Jeanette Lawler.”

“We know Jeanette Lawler was in downtown Halifax last night at a nightclub. People saw her. Spoke to her.” His voice was grim. “They might have seen her killer, as well. We ask that you please call the tip line if you have anything to report from yesterday evening. Your statement might be all we need to close in on this killer.” He hoped the UNSUB was watching. He hoped like hell the man wondered and worried about being seen the night before.

“And Dr. Hayden, you’ve had time to study this madman who has struck all across Canada.” Ethan struggled to keep his face impassive. There was no way to keep sensationalism from creeping into the newscast. “What have you learned about him that will aid in the investigation?”

Ethan tensed, but beside him, Alexa appeared calm. Composed. “I understand this offender like no one else can. I know what drives him. He realizes that every deed will be brought into judgment. Every secret thing. His mission is over. Like a weary soldier returning from battle, he can put down his sword. Only then will he find true peace.”

The viewing audience wouldn’t comprehend. But Alexa’s message would make perfect sense to the offender they sought.

“Thank you, Doctor. Sergeant, I understand that there is a vigil in Victoria Park at nine o’clock this evening for the most recent victims. Will your team be there to pay your respects?”

“We will be, yes.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. I return now to Commissioner Gagnon, who…”

Ethan’s ear mic cut out. He knew from last time that the people from the news station freaked if he tried to remove the equipment himself. So, he waited impatiently for a technician to take care of that before he and Alexa made their way inside the building again. They went to find Nyle, who was sitting in the interview room they’d just vacated, with sacks of food surrounding him.

Ethan regarded him soberly. “Are you some kind of sandwich wizard? Do you know a conjuring spell that summons them out of thin air?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The man shoved a sandwich into his mouth. Chewed. “My magical powers are reserved for baked goods. I had this stuff delivered. Met them at the back entrance.”

Alexa took a ham on rye with a decided lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t you guys ever eat anything green?”

Nyle gave her a puzzled look. “You mean…like green M&Ms?”

She rolled her eyes and sat down, unwrapping her food. Ethan, decidedly less fussy, grabbed one of the meals and took a seat, pulling out his phone. Moments later, he turned his laptop on and scrolled through the latest list the tip-line officer had sent, starring the ones he deemed most promising. He took pictures of them on his cell and texted them to Nyle. “Here. You and Alexa start on the interviews for people responding to the newspaper article this morning that had Lawler’s picture. The newscast we just filmed won’t show for—” he checked the clock on the wall, “—another two and a half hours. If better tips come in from that, I’ll let you know.”

“What’s your next step?” Nyle wanted to know.

Ethan’s temples began to throb just thinking about the next few hours. “I’m going to take those phone numbers we computer-generated and arrange for a voice message to be sent to each. Then I’ll organize the police presence for the vigil tonight. If Alexa’s little spiel about the offender worked, he’s not going to be able to pass up being there. And if he does come, we need to be prepared for it.”

* * *

The first three calls they followed up on required more time to drive to than the interviews themselves. But slowly, Alexa and Nyle were constructing a timeline for Lawler’s last few hours. They spoke to the waitress who served her at an upscale restaurant; a person working the door at a club she’d attended around nine, which she’d exited shortly later; and an Uber driver who’d delivered her to the restaurant, and chatted with her about the Halifax nightlife.

The fourth interview was with someone Alexa had already met. Dennis Jeffries, the bartender at Zoomey’s.

“I almost didn’t call. I mean, I remember you coming in and showing me that picture.” Jeffries nodded at Alexa. After Nyle had contacted the man about his message to the tip line, they’d arranged to meet at a Timmie’s in the man’s neighborhood. Alexa hadn’t turned down the opportunity to caffeinate. “I told you then she’d been there. But then I thought, hey, maybe you’d have more questions, so…” He shrugged, wrapping both hands around his coffee to-go cup. “It’s not every day that you talk to someone who comes in and find out they’re dead a few hours later. Makes you think, you know?”

“What can you tell us about her?” Alexa asked.

“She arrived a bit before ten.” He reached up a hand to push back the hair that kept flopping onto his forehead. “We talked a little bit. She’d already stopped at some of the clubs. Wanted to know when things would get going. I had the feeling she was looking for action.”

“What kind of action?”

He shrugged at Nyle’s question. “Same kind most people want. Crowds, dancing, music, lights. And maybe to hook up. She had that vibe about her. Not that I’m judging,” he hastened to say.

“And did it look like she was successful? At finding a partner?”

He shrugged again. “So maybe for a little while, before things got wild, I thought I’d be the lucky guy. But it got super busy, and I lost sight of her. Which means she either ended up leaving, or she was at a table or booth that was being waited on.”

“Can you give us the names and numbers of the other bartenders and waitresses on that night?” Alexa asked.

He looked stricken. “Oh, man, no, I can’t drag them into this. I mean, naw, I can’t.”

“We can get them from your employer.”

Alexa knew Nyle would only do so if they had evidence that Zoomey’s was indeed the place where Lawler had met with the offender.

“Hold on a minute.” He pulled out his phone and started texting furiously, a long enough message that Alexa was left wondering why he didn’t just place a call. When he finished, he set the cell down and looked up. “Zaila works at the club, too. She’d have been working the floor. I asked if she’d agree to talk to you. That’s all I can do, okay? I mean, I have to work with these people.” His words were interrupted by an alert. He picked up the cell again and gave a smile of relief. “She says okay. I don’t know if she has any information, but she’ll meet up if you can do it in the next hour.”

Nyle nodded. “That works. Before we go, though, we want you to look at a couple sketches.” He took out the two drawings of the offender and laid them out in front of Jeffries.

To his credit, the man looked them over carefully. Then he finally lifted a shoulder. “Not going to lie, I remember the females. Unless it’s some asshole who causes trouble for us. This guy—” he tapped the sketch Patrick had helped supply, “—is not our usual clientele. At least, not when things get going. We draw a younger crowd.”

“The hair and mustache were probably fake. Think of this face,” Nyle tapped the second sketch, “with this hair.” He touched the first drawing.

But Jeffries shrugged. “Like I said…I remember the pretty girls. And the bonus of my job is there are lots of pretty girls.”

* * *

Zaila had a round face with heavily made-up eyes and black hair tipped with pink. They’d had to drive across the city to the place she’d set to meet with them. The only parking they could find was blocks away. Nyle and Alexa were out of breath by the time they walked into the seedy diner and slid into the booth opposite her.

“Dennis showed us your picture,” Alexa said when the woman looked up in surprise.

“Yeah, Dennis. What’d he get me into?” She picked up a sugar packet from a bowl placed in the center of the table. Fiddled with it.

“Nothing too worrisome.” Nyle put a picture of Lawler on the table in front of the woman. “Do you recall seeing her in Zoomey’s Thursday night?”

The woman made a box with her fingers, centered it around Lawler’s face, blocking out the hair. “Yeah,” she said finally. “She was there. I know faces. I’m an art student at NSCAD.” She surveyed the picture critically. “Makeup was different. Less polished, more glam, if you know what I mean. Don’t recall what she was wearing or anything. Me, I see faces.”

On cue, Nyle produced the sketches of the offender. “How about him? Remember seeing him?”

She shook her head. “He might have stood out, too, because we cater to a younger crowd.” Which was similar to what the bartender had told them. “Once in a while, you get an older guy in there with a lot younger girlfriend, but that’s not the norm.”

“Did you see this woman with anyone throughout the night?”

Zaila rolled her eyes. “Saw her with lots of people. All guys. A good twenty years younger than her, you ask me. She was dancing earlier, but last time I noticed she was sitting in a booth with a bunch of guys, pretty smashed. It looked like they were buying all the drinks.” She grimaced. “They’d had plenty, too.”

“Do you know what time that was?” Alexa asked.

“There is only two times that matter in that place.” The woman smirked. “The time I have to be at work and closing time. Seriously, the place is busiest on the weekends, but Wednesdays and Thursdays can be crazy, too. There’s never enough staff, and we work our asses off. I don’t notice the time. Oh.” She seemed to remember something. “Except I know I waited on that booth right before the band’s first break, which would have been about eleven-thirty. I try to time my rounds because otherwise the floor gets too congested, with people going to the restrooms and trying to get to the bar. It was the last time I remember seeing her.”

Alexa exchanged a look with Nyle. Here was another point for the timeline of Lawler’s last night. She and Ethan had been there about one. But they still didn’t know if the woman had left before then.

“How about the guys in the booth with her? Did you recognize any of them?” she asked.

“I’ve seen a couple of them before. One had some trouble at the club a few months back. Got kicked out for a while.” She thought for a moment. Shook her head. “Maybe Duncan knows. He was the bouncer we had back then. I’ll ask him.”

“Please call my number if you discover his name.” Nyle slid one of his cards across the cracked vinyl table toward her. “We appreciate your time.”

“Yeah.” Zaila stood up, hefted a large hobo bag onto her shoulder. “Figured with something like this, you gotta get involved, right? Plus, Dennis is pretty hot and I don’t mind him owing me a favor.” Giving them a surprisingly impish smile, she walked away.

The bartender they’d just interviewed? Hot? Alexis suddenly felt very old. There was, she supposed, no accounting for taste. “Who’s next?”

Nyle checked his cell. “Ethan wants us back at headquarters by seven. Which is another hour. It’ll take us almost that long to get there. We’d better head out. Unless you want to catch a quick bite first.”

Alexa looked around the diner. She wasn’t especially fastidious, but she was willing to guess the sanitation here was sketchy, at best. “I think I’ll pass.” She slid out of the booth and headed toward the door. She was anxious to get an update about the plans for the memorial this evening. Alexa couldn’t be sure the offender would attend. But if her remarks at the press conference resonated with him on any level, she thought he might be unable to resist appearing tonight.