Chapter 1

“We had to let him go.”

“Had to?” Thompson asked.

Faint from lack of sleep, Pam sat on one of the tall stools by the kitchen counter. The clock on the wall read two thirty in the morning. She had been awake for well over twenty-four hours.

Lately, she was waking up in the middle of the night, her heart racing, her mind plunged into confusion. With her eyes wide open, the darkness around her prolonged her feeling of turmoil, and suddenly, she would be struck by racing thoughts of all the cases she had been unable to solve—and the ones still demanding her attention. But one case always stood out. During those panic-filled moments, her instinct would tell her to reach for the man lying beside her, but before her hand found his body, she remembered that she didn’t want to accept the comfort that this man, her husband, readily offered her.

And now there was another dead woman.

“Reeve didn’t kill Sofia,” she replied. “And there’s no good evidence to suggest that he did it.”

Thompson sat down next to her. His bloodshot eyes revealed that he felt as worn out as she did.

“He might not be the one who killed her, but he knows where my wife is,” he said. “That’s all I care about. Finding Tatiana.”

“Finding your wife is not my main concern.”

“Hasn’t it crossed your mind that Tatiana might have witnessed what happened to her sister? Finding Tatiana should be your main concern.”

“I’ve been to Reeve’s condo with a search warrant. I’ve visited Meredith at her place. I talked to her housemate. I’ve visited Reeve’s adoptive mom. The woman is senile, but I showed a photo of Tatiana to her live-in caregiver. No one has seen her. It has been a week. Maybe Tatiana did sneak out when Meredith was in the bathroom.”

“Are you trying to convince me? Or yourself? You said Tatiana was covered in cuts and bruises. She could barely hold herself up. Where would she go?”

“Would they help her?” she asked.

“Who?”

“You know who.” She paced in front of Thompson. If she remained seated, she wouldn’t find the energy to leave his home before dawn.

“I’ve asked around. No one has seen or heard from Tatiana.”

“Was that wise?”

“There are people I can trust within the organization.”

“Don’t be naïve, Steven. Your access to the club has been suspended because of your fight with Reeve. You’re not one of them.”

“Neither is Tatiana.”

“Her ties are stronger than yours.”

“I’m the one with the money. That’s all they care about.”

“Every single person in that organization is only in it for the money?”

Thompson nodded. “Those I’ve met.”

“Tatiana has something you’ll never have, and it can be worth just as much as all the money you have in the bank.”

Thompson eyed her with disgust. “Don’t be crass, Pamela. It’s not your style.”

Hearing her full name made her grind her teeth. It reminded her of a time long gone, and she didn’t want to be faced with such memories.

“Be careful, Steven. I understand you want to find Tatiana, but you don’t want to get killed in the process.”

Pam hadn’t been inside Thompson’s home before Tatiana’s disappearance. Now, as she stood in his kitchen, she looked for traces of his wife. But she saw no pictures and no personal objects that provided an insight into Tatiana’s life. Not even proof that she ever lived there.

“Nothing will happen to me,” Thompson said. “I know what’s important to them and I won’t stand in their way.”

“Helping me is standing in their way.”

“That’s my problem. Not yours.”

“You still haven’t told me why you beat your wife within an inch of her life. As soon as I saw her I knew it had been you.”

“How many times do I need to say to you that I wasn’t the one who left Tatiana in that state?”

“That’s hard to swallow.”

“I thought, of all people, you’d believe me.”

“Because you’ve never lied to me?” Pam asked.

“Because you know me.”

“That’s my point.” She walked up to the fridge. Several clippings from magazines around the world, featuring libraries, were pinned to it and stood out amidst the spotless kitchen. “Reeve incriminated you. He also pointed out that you came to him earlier in the day and hit him.”

“Did he also say how it happened? Where it happened?”

“Of course not. Reeve isn’t stupid. He knows he can’t bring up The Raven Room. Especially during a murder investigation.” Pam noticed some of the clippings had an aged, yellow tinge to them. “Do you have a library?” she asked.

“Sure, upstairs.”

“I want to see it.”

Thompson took her to the second floor and then up a second set of stairs to the attic.

“This is an impressive collection.” Pam approached one of the rows of shelves that ran along the periphery of the room, from the floor all the way up to the slanted ceiling. “I didn’t know you were into books.”

“They’re Tatiana’s. I rarely come up here.”

Pam pulled a book from the shelf. As she leafed through it, she noticed a black marker line on the bottom, outside of the pages. She returned the book to the shelf and picked up another one. Four out of the five books she looked at had the same black marker line.

“I’d never admit this to Reeve, or to his attorney, but we have no proof that your wife isn’t the one Reeve has been seeing.”

“Tatiana isn’t fucking Reeve. When he tried to have her leave the club with him, I misunderstood what was happening. I got angry and I slapped her. I regret that.”

“Right. You slapped your wife but someone else beat her. All in the space of a couple of hours.”

“When you saw Tatiana that morning, and you asked her who had done that to her, did she say it was me?”

“She didn’t say anyone’s name. But she knows about you and me. She doesn’t trust me.”

“You should have brought her home.”

“I was protecting you. If I took her in, she’d reveal that you were the one who assaulted her, and there’d be nothing I could do to stop you from getting arrested.”

“Don’t blame me for your stupidity. Keeping me away from the police’s eye assures I can still help you in your investigation. You left Tatiana in that condo and you took Reeve with you to protect your interests, Pamela.”

“How is bringing a serial killer to justice protecting my interests?”

Thompson chuckled. He sounded bitter. “It won’t hurt your career.”

“Do you have any idea what will happen when—”

“We’ve known each other for twenty-nine years,” he interrupted. “Nothing is more important to you than your career. Not even Meredith, who you claim to love. Let’s be honest, she’ll be the one who’ll suffer the most when the truth comes out.”

“Now you’re concerned for Meredith?”

“She knows where Tatiana is. She was the last person to see her.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’ve talked to her. She doesn’t know.”

“And you believe her?” Thompson asked.

“Why would Meredith lie about anything involving your wife? She would need a reason to do so.”

“Reeve is her reason. You need to show her the video.”

“And then what? You don’t know Meredith. She wouldn’t stay silent. She would ask questions—”

“Of course she would. But it would also compel her to reveal where Tatiana is and to stop pursuing the idea of writing an article on The Raven Room.”

“You haven’t mentioned the article to anyone, have you? I shared that with you because—”

“You trust me. I’m aware. I don’t have to explain to you why it’ll be a problem if people find out about the article, do I?”

“Meredith is impetuous. She gets an idea in her head and she goes for it. No matter what. But she’s also fickle. One day she wants one thing; the next, something else. I’m hoping she’s already moved on.”

“She’s been sleeping with Reeve for over two years. She doesn’t sound fickle. Hasn’t Meredith asked why you hate him? She knows you’ve been keeping secrets; she’s suspicious. Also, she’s been going to the club, don’t you think sooner or later she’ll—”

Pam cut him off. “No.”

“Look, I want to find my wife and you want justice,” Thompson continued. “That brings both of us to Tatiana. And if we show the video to Meredith, we’ll have Tatiana. Why are you refusing to see that?”

“Leave Meredith out of this. She’s my concern, not yours. Don’t go near her, do you understand?”

“I’m the one who has the video. If I decide to show it to her, you can’t stop me.”

Pam rushed to Thompson, raising her hand to strike him but he caught it midair.

“Do it, Pamela, and I’ll hit you right back.”

She pulled her hand away and walked out of the attic.

Thompson followed her as she made her way back downstairs. “Have you reopened the four cases?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I have to look into a couple of things…I’ll let you know.”

“I’m thinking I’m going to pay Reeve a visit.”

Pam spun around. “Don’t approach him.”

“He’s keeping Tatiana from me.”

“I doubt he’s holding her against her will.”

“I love my wife. Regardless of whom she fucks. Or I fuck, for that matter.”

Thompson’s words were meant to wound her but she refused to allow it. “You were so sure Tatiana wasn’t involved with him.”

Thompson’s expression hardened.

“Steven, you might love your wife, but she doesn’t love you back. She’s afraid of you.”

Pam left Thompson’s house. Glancing at her phone, she saw she had two missed calls from her husband. Without hesitation, she put her phone back in her pocket.

All of a sudden, she felt like she was being watched. She scanned her surroundings as she crossed the street—the several parked cars appeared to be empty. With no sign of pedestrians or passing cars, the street looked deserted. She didn’t fear for her safety—she knew how to defend herself—but she locked all the doors as soon as she entered her car. Before she drove away she decided that, instead of heading home, she would go straight to the station.

• • •

Thompson heard a noise behind him as he stood by his stove, boiling kettle in hand, ready to make himself a cup of tea.

“Let me guess, you came back to explain why you haven’t reopened the cases?”

He turned around and almost dropped the kettle when he found himself face-to-face with someone other than Pam.

“How did you get into my home?”

The Asian man in the suit smiled.

“The front door was unlocked.” He sat down on the kitchen stool. Before he continued, he placed a gun on the counter. “It hasn’t been that long since we saw each other, has it?”

“What do you want?”

“It appears that some of our employees—our women—are being killed. That’s not good. Not only because we need them, but also because their deaths have, it seems, sparked some talk.”

Thompson started to speak, but the man cut him off. “Our business operates best when no one is asking questions or looking in our direction. Everyone, including you, prefers it that way. Anything that threatens our anonymity has to be taken care of. You’re a businessman yourself, Thompson. You understand.”

“You still haven’t told me what you want.”

“I want you to talk.”

“Listen, I don’t know who sent you or what you were told, but I know nothing about any dead women.”

“Should I have this conversation with your detective friend? She left your place in quite a rush just a few moments ago. What were you two talking about?”

Without taking his eyes from the man, Thompson’s hand shook as he set the kettle down on the stove.

“You and Pamela Sung met in your first year of college,” the man said. “She was your girlfriend for a while, wasn’t she? Five years. Long time.”

“How do you know that?”

“You proposed to her on Christmas Day with the ring you bought with the money from the sale of your beloved Shelby Cobra. You refused to buy it with your family’s money. You wanted the ring to have a special meaning to both of you. But she turned you down, and then broke up with you. I like that you have remained friends. It shows you know how not to hold a grudge.”

Thompson turned and tried to run. Before he could do so, the man grabbed him, pushed him to the ground, and pinned his arm behind his back. With skill born from experience, the man twisted Thompson’s arm further, breaking it with an audible crack. Thompson screamed out in pain.

The man returned to his seat by the kitchen island. He ran his hands through his shoulder-length hair, then tugged on the sleeves of his dress shirt, adjusting the silver cufflinks. “Get up and make me a cup of tea.”

Gasping for air, his eyes filled with tears. Thompson moaned as he rolled over and held his injured arm close to his chest.

“I said get up.”

Thompson struggled to get back on his feet.

“I like chamomile,” the man continued. “You have it, right? Who doesn’t have chamomile tea?”

Thompson finally managed to stand. He failed to pour the boiling water inside a mug and spilled it on the counter. The water dripped onto his bare feet. After a couple of tries, he succeeded at filling the mug halfway. As he reached for a tea bag, he dropped the box of tea. Using the counter for support, he kneeled down, his whole body trembling. He staggered as he stood up again and placed the tea mug in front of the man.

“It needs to steep a bit longer.” The man held the tea mug in one hand and the gun in the other. “But that’s OK. Our conversation has only started. How is Tatiana doing?”

Thompson held on to the kitchen counter. He struggled to breathe through the pain of his broken arm.

“When I heard about the death of Tatiana’s twin, I remembered a conversation she and I had years ago. She told me that when she was a kid, she thought her and her twin, because they had been born at the same time, had to die at the same time. Don’t know why, but that story stayed with me.” The man blew on his hot tea. “I always liked Tatiana.”

“Fuck you.” Sweat dripped down Thompson’s temples.

“Your wife is under Reeve’s protection. Which I doubt is news to you. But that protection only stops you and the police from getting to her. Not us. Now it’s up to you, if we do or don’t take her from him.” The man took sip of his tea. “How does it feel to hold your wife’s life in your hands?”

“Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“Who is killing our women?”

Thompson grimaced. “If I tell you what I know, will you help me see my wife?”

“We don’t get involved in marital quarrels.”

“Do you promise not to hurt Tatiana?”

“If I’m pleased with what I hear, we won’t hurt your wife. What Reeve does, though? We can’t make any promises.”