But she hadn’t come back, and work had kept him too busy to form an alternate plan.
“Completely understandable. You don’t need to do anything now or ever, for that matter. The Bureau has no grounds to compel you to assist in their plans or attempts to apprehend the Butcher.”
Light flashed in her blue eyes as if she’d only just realized what they wanted. “They believe I can somehow lure him in?”
“Potentially.” The muscles tightened around his skull, increasing the throb already there. He’d barely slept since getting the call. Hypothetical scenario after scenario had played out in his head. None worked for him. She shouldn’t do this. It was far too risky.
“Tell me what I need to do.”
He kept his jaw locked for five seconds. Long enough to temper his response. “I’m not sure you’re grasping the full ramifications here.”
“I get it.” She pushed away from the table, stood and walked to the sink. She deposited her coffee cup there then, buying time, ran water into it before turning back to face him. “I’m the bait they’ve hoped for all this time. A thirty-year reign as the most prolific serial killer in the country is a damned good motive for the Bureau’s desperation. The Butcher has killed dozens of people and those are just the ones they know about. I’m sure they would love to bring him down.”
“This is assuming the man whose DNA proves he’s your father is, in fact, the killer. Maybe he’s involved in some other way. A partner of some sort.”
“Now you’re reaching, Agent Decker. If his DNA had been found once, maybe. But twice? No way. It’s him.” She placed her hands on her hips, squared her shoulders. “I want to help bring him down.”
“Certainly gives you a whole new twist for your book.”
The wounded look that flashed on her face before the anger appeared made him wish for a do-over.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “That was uncalled for.” He pushed back his own chair and stood. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt in all this. Right now, I’m sure it feels at best like a great boost option for your blog and, unquestionably, new and twisted fodder for your book. But this is about you. Who you are, where you come from. When the shock wears off, you may realize you don’t want to share this with the world. You’ll go through all the stages of disbelief and regret. More than anything else you’ll want answers to all the questions whirling around in your head right now and in the days to come.”
She shrugged, the flash of anger visibly draining out of her. “You’re right. I recognize I need to think this through. I need to look at all the possible ramifications before I leap.”
Thank God. “You do.” He joined her at the sink, offered an understanding smile. “I’m really sorry to be the one to throw this at you, but I had to do it. I couldn’t be certain anyone else would properly take into consideration your feelings and your safety. I needed to be the one, to be sure you stay safe.”
She smiled. “All these years of desk work have made you soft, Agent Decker.”
“Maybe.” A beat of silence settled between them. “Besides, it was well past time we met in person. I should have called you on that promise for dinner months ago.”
“This is true. How long can you stay?” She rolled her eyes. “I suppose the better question is how much time do you have to deliver my answer?”
“They gave me until Monday.”
When she didn’t react immediately, he added, “I can probably talk them out of another twenty-four hours. Or I can give them a ‘no’ right now.” He really wanted her to say no.
“There were no other hits?” she asked. “No other relatives discovered?”
“Only you.”
“Not for the first time,” she said wistfully, “I wish my mother was still alive.”
He’d heard those words from her several times the past few months. Lara had suffered through the guilt of not visiting her mother as much as she’d meant to. Of not calling as often as she felt she should have. Whatever she believed, she had been a good daughter. Far better than she gave herself credit for. “Did she talk about your father much?”
“Always on Father’s Day and birthdays.” She hesitated, seeming to follow his line of thinking. “There is a photo, if you want to see.”
“I would.”
She led him back to the living room. He wondered how anyone could look so good in yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt. The socks were adorable. She was exactly the way he had imagined her. Tough but soft.
She settled onto the floor, legs crossed and grabbed a photo album from the bottom shelf of the bookcase beneath yet another window that looked out over the lake. He sat down beside her.
When she’d found the page she sought, she passed the album to him. “This is the only photo of him she had—or, at least, that I’ve ever seen. He isn’t looking directly at the camera, but that’s him.” She tapped the photo. “Meet Patrick Franklin.”
The man had the same red hair as Lara, for sure. “You never met any other members of your father’s family?” There had to have been parents. Grandparents.
“All deceased.”
Or that.
“You’ve researched your father?” He couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t. Not Lara. She was far too curious not to have done her due diligence.
“I did.” She flipped through a few more pages that showed her very young mother smiling and obviously pregnant. “His parents died when he was three. He was adopted. His adopted parents died when I was just a baby. I don’t remember them. But Mother spoke fondly of them. I think they were good to us. My impression was that they helped us out financially after…after he died.”
It was difficult to argue with the story. Why would her mother have lied? Nate studied the youthful images of Lara’s mother. He couldn’t imagine her having that sort of devious mind. The woman Lara spoke of had been kind and giving. Quiet and thoughtful. Not the sort to deceive or betray.
Lara turned to him. “I suppose they’re going to want to exhume his body.”
“Under the circumstances I would say that’s a given.” Assuming Lara was willing. Even if she wasn’t, they would likely seek a warrant.
“Tell them to do it. The sooner, the better. If my father is actually alive, I want to know why he left my mother and me the way he did.”
“And if he’s the Butcher?” Nate challenged.
She considered the question for a long moment. “Then I need to know that as well.”
He could understand her desire to have those answers. What child wouldn’t want to comprehend why a parent would abandon her or him? He’d never asked but he was aware life had been difficult for Lara and her mother during the early years.
Lara closed the album. “I should tell you about the email and text message I received last night.”
Hearing the details, particularly considering the timing of the emails and the text from this ‘unsub’ didn’t sit well with Nate. He hadn’t worked a case in more than five years, but he wasn’t so rusty he didn’t see the correlation.
“Let’s assume for a moment that he is your father and he’s known about you all along,” he offered. “Is there a follower who has been with you from the beginning? Maybe someone who has taken a bit of a personal interest? He might not even comment but he’s always there?”