“Itwasmy fault. I was distracted, trying to do too many things at once, and I bumped into him. I apologized—I felt terrible—but he brushed me off and then stalked me and tried to murder me.”
“That seems excessive.”
“In my world, people have been drawn and quartered for less.” I glance over at her. “Kidding, obviously. It wasn’t an overreaction to the coffee spill as much as an excuse. Some serial killers murder indiscriminately, because it’s about the act, not the victim. For others, it’s about the victims—picking people who remind them of Mommy or the girl whoturned them down or whatever. With this guy, it was a game. He let his victims self-select, so to speak. If someone pisses him off, in a very ordinary way, can he track and kill them?”
“Cerebral,” she murmurs. “That’s what you and Duncan called the murder of Archie Evans. Methodical and cerebral, lacking passion or bloodlust.”
“If I were to speculate, based on the murders in my time and here, I’d say that we’re dealing with a guy who thinks he’s clever. His driving force is ego. He wants to get away with it, and because he’s not compelled to kill in a specific way, he can avoid patterns and connections that would get him caught. Then he arrives here, before the golden age of serial killers.”
“The golden…?” She shakes her head. “I don’t even want to know what that means. Presumably, they become more common.”
“To many people in our time, the first serial killer doesn’t strike for another twenty years. He wasn’t the first, but he’s still the most famous. This guy comes here and thinks he can steal his thunder. Be clever and memorable. Except no one cares. So he goes another route. Replicate those murders. Out-ripper the Ripper.”
“The…?” Another head shake. “I definitely don’t want to ask about that.”
“You do not. The point is that he replicated a future famous murder and will undoubtedly continue on with the rest of the killing spree, meaning we need to stop him before he does.”
“Agreed.”
“We recognized each other in that attack,” I say. “I believe he knows who I am, and I know who hewas.It’s the ‘was’ part that’s a problem. He has the advantage.”
“And you think he’s now Simon?”
“I’mtheorizingthat hecouldbe Simon. What I need from you is either proof that the guy in Simon’s bodyisSimon or additional support for the idea that it might not be.”
“I honestly can’t say either way, Mallory. I haven’t had enough contact with him in these last few days.”
“Then the next step for me isfindingproof. I’m not going to approach him directly—that’s dangerous if he’s the killer, because the killer realizes I’m not Catriona either. Would Mrs. Wallace know Simon better than you?”
“Yes, but she is not… fond of Catriona.”
“Oh, I know it. I can work around that. I’ll talk to her, and maybe talk to Dr. Gray if I can, and then, when I have a better idea either way, I’m going to ask you to send Simon on an errand so I can search his room. Can you do that?”
“Easily.”
“Good.”