The TV in the room was on. Noiseless chatter that Anis tuned out but for the occasional glance. His focus was on his quarry, and she was proving more troublesome than he’d expected.

He read again the email Jeanette Lawler had responded with when, posing as Armand Vance, Anis has asked to reschedule the interview until tomorrow morning. Such rudeness! So very sure of herself and her place in the world. Which, she appeared to believe, was a lofty perch above other mortals.

“‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall,’” he murmured as he composed a reply. She’d eventually agree, of course. A one-on-one with Armand Vance was too good a scoop to pass up. No doubt she was envisioning an even more brutal takedown for Vance in the interview that would never transpire. Anis smiled as he pushed his chair away from the computer. If people weren’t so predictable, so imperfect, he’d be able to lay down the sword he carried for the Lord.

He’d give her an hour and then head toward her hotel again to watch for her exit. Lawler craved the night scene. The clubs and godless music. She’d remained in her room most of the time she’d been here, preparing for the phony interview with Vance. Anis was betting she was chafing at the solitude. Sometime tonight, she’d go on the prowl. And that’s when he’d take her.

Anis plucked the room service menu from beneath the phone on the desk and flipped it open. He’d panicked when Simard had seemed to recognize him when he’d been tailing him. Enough so that he had immediately driven the van back to the storage garage he’d arranged for and rented a car instead. Perhaps he’d use the car tonight for Lawler. He considered the possibility as he scanned the limited menu items. The rental was a mid-sized roomy sedan with a large trunk. It would be less noticeable than the van.

First, he’d eat. And then he’d begin his cleansing ritual that would ready him to do God’s work tonight.

But something on the TV screen caught his attention. He reached for the remote to turn up the sound. “…and now here’s RCMP Commissioner Reginald Gagnon with an update on the on-going manhunt for Canada’s most notorious serial killer.”

A sober-looking man with an angular face and deep-set eyes stepped before a microphone. There was an imposing-looking building in the background. The news conference took place on its steps. “Today, our task force positively ID’d the John Doe found in the Fundy National Park as Henry Paulus of Edmonton. According to co-workers Paulus was on a two-week vacation for hiking and backpacking.”

A photo of the man appeared on the screen. “If anyone came into contact with him in the park and has information to share, they should call the number at the bottom of the screen. I want to assure the public that we’ve made the manhunt for this killer a top priority. To that end, we’ve brought an outside forensic consultant on board who has expertise in areas of value to our investigation. Dr. Alexa Hayden is working closely with our task force.”

It was amazing, Anis thought, his attention drifting, how much the man could say about how little they had to go on. Anis had begun his godly crusade thirteen years ago. In that time, he’d seen more than his share of these updates, all spinning inconsequential details and leads that would go nowhere. His was a battle blessed by God. The righteousness of his work shielded him from capture.

He returned to the menu. Anis never made the mistake of eating too much before a night of judgment. Fresh fruit and a lean cut of meat with a salad, he decided. He placed the order and hung up the phone, glancing back at the TV disinterestedly.

The Commissioner was saying, “…I’ll let task force leader Sergeant Ethan Manning handle the update in the case.” A square appeared at the top right corner of the screen indicating that the man would be joining them from a remote location. A vapid-looking anchor asked avidly, “Sergeant Manning, what can you tell us about the ongoing search for The Tailor?”

Anis grimaced at the stupid ill-fitting nickname. The sergeant was a sober-faced man, who looked surprisingly young to be at the helm of an investigation this important. Anis had researched him when he’d read the news of the task force reforming. Nothing in what he’d discovered about the officer had been noteworthy. Investigators came and went. None had gotten close to him. They never would.

“We have a person of interest in the case that we’re pursuing for questioning,” Manning was saying. “This sketch was developed by an eyewitness who has had dealings with the man.” A drawing showed on the screen. Anis peered closely at it before he burst into laughter. Was that supposed to be him? Oh, that was too rich. The sketch portrayed a male who could have been in his late thirties or forties. The face was unremarkable. It was much wider than Anis’s, with a full mouth, abnormally small ears and wide forehead. He chuckled again in genuine amusement.

His gaze went to the woman standing behind Manning’s left shoulder and all humor abruptly vanished. Her hair was very blonde, pulled away from an exquisite face, exposing fine features which were arranged in a serious expression. Who was she? His pulse sped up as he stared at her. Not a cop, he could tell that much. He remembered the commissioner mentioning a private consultant earlier. He turned to his laptop and typed in a search, bringing up several news stories about the investigation. Impatiently, he skimmed one after another until he found the information he was looking for.

Dr. Alexa Hayden…consultant from a forensics agency in the state…He scanned the article rapidly, and, finding little more of interest, he closed out of that window and opened another. He typed in her name. Was shocked when the page filled with hits. His meal forgotten, Anis read through several articles before he sat back, aware that his heart was hammering in his chest.

The woman wore several hats, it seemed, but the one that interested him most was her background in entomology. An unfamiliar heat suffused him. He looked at the TV again, but the news had moved on to yet another sensational story. No matter. His focus shifted back to his laptop. The letters after her name represented advanced degrees in more than one field. She wasn’t self-taught like he was. But surely she’d specialized in entomology because she had the same fascination for insects as he did. She would understand the message he left with each of the the bodies.

Delight unfurled within him. He wondered if, like him, her interest in insects had developed in childhood. But hopefully, not a childhood like his, locked in a root cellar too much of the time with no companionship but the bugs that found their way into the space. He’d like to think that her affinity for the insect world came about more naturally.

Anis continued his online search, reading about her background and schooling on various bios for different organizations she belonged to. There were scholarly articles she’d authored, none of which were of interest to him. He also disregarded the information about the agency she worked for. It was personal information he was after, and that was in short supply. She appeared to live near Washington, DC. But then he found yet another short bio that stated she was originally from Canada.

A feeling of rightness settled over him. It was similar to the sensation he’d had when he’d rescued the boy from the flooded stream on his property. He’d known he was going to take him home with him, instead of returning him to his parents as soon as he’d seen him in the raging water. Alexa Hayden filled him with a similar sense of purpose. There was more research to be done.

But Anis Tera already knew their fates were linked.