chapter forty-four

We’d coaxed Paul into lying down for a while and got one of the on-site therapists to sit with him. We called Emma Jan, let her know about the disaster du jour, and sent her to the local hoosegow to find out what was up with the killer HOAP.2 lured, then trapped. We were all hoping that the good Paul had done—finding the links between the first two victims—would at least keep the killer locked up.

“What does this mean for BOFFO’s lost funding?” I asked.

Michaela’s short, sharp bark of laughter was answer enough. George rested his forehead on a section of the counter not covered in eggplant and drumstick pods.

“You had a plan for HOAP.2, didn’t you?” I didn’t even realize it until I was watching Shiro try to bring home to Paul what he’d done. “That’s why you were so careful to tell us to be careful what we told him. You didn’t want him freaking out.”

“And now you see what good that did.”

“Will you cut the shit and look at me, please?”

I wasn’t sure if it was my tone, or “shit,” but at last she did. And what I saw shocked me.