Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“And he has to feed himself,” Bohannan said. “He has to make a living. He probably has a wife. Kids. Those things take your time and attention. Your presence. We can’t fall into a trap of thinking this guy is omnipotent. He thinks he is, but he’s not. I don’t know how to explain the vague threats in his notes to you and what happened in Alabama with that timing and that follow-up call. I can see those dots connected, it’s a mad coincidence if it isn’t him. I still don’t think that was the correct call. I’ll just say, right now, even if that was him, he’s not thinking about it. He’s placed himself in this position. He’s here not because you forced him to be, but because he’s made the decision to be here. And things are getting out of his control.”
Bohannan paused, probably so Rus could brace, so he did.
Then Bohannan finished it.
“This might be a boon. He’s going to get more erratic. Erratic will mean he’ll fuck up. But it’s also a concern. Because he’s going to get more erratic, and he’s proved with what he did to Molnar, that could mean anything.”
Shit.
Not great, but they couldn’t get mired in it.
They had keep moving.
“Talk to us about Corbin and Molnar,” Rus demanded.
Bohannan again delivered.
“Corbin is a piece of shit who couldn’t brush his own teeth if he didn’t have someone handing him the toothpaste. That’s why he married a woman who could make the money. That’s why he’s a submissive. His hatred for himself and his weakness is why he gets sexual release by being told what to do, and that’s hurting someone else. He doesn’t even have the strength to take the pain and punishment himself.”
Rus nodded he got that because it all fit.
Bohannan carried on.
“But he was her sub. It’s rare, especially with violent murders where there’s no emotional component to it, say attacking your abuser, for a woman to kill in that way. She’s off, I don’t know how she was off, but it was her. Ezra didn’t lie. He probably had no idea they were going there to kill Brittanie. Rape, yes. Non-consensual rape, all the better in his fucked-up head. But he didn’t wield the hammer. He’s the kind of man to be told to shut up and go along with it, and he will. He’s also the kind of man, if you assure him you have it covered and it’s all gonna be okay, he’ll believe you, because women from his mother to his wife to Molnar have made it okay for him since he came out crying.”
“And now?” Moran asked.
“Now, we need to find Ezra, because CK made it clear he’s next,” Bohannan answered. “And Rus has to be visible, out there, working it, frustrated, pushing CK, who feels affinity with Rus and will commiserate with these emotions, to act. And we need eyes, so if he’s following, we can catch him. I want Jace and Jess working with that crew from LA.”
“I’ll arrange it,” Rus said, pulling out his phone.
“Rus?” Bohannan called.
Rus looked to him.
“This ends here.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean, he’s done. He might not know it consciously, he still knows it. It’s just the scenario playing out as to how he goes down. In a blaze of glory or simply walking into Moran’s shop.”
“Are you serious?” McGill was incredulous.
But Bohannan didn’t take his gaze from Rus.
“His work has been desecrated. His relationship with you has been jeopardized, to him, to the point it can’t be resurrected. It will never be the same. I don’t know how he’s going to do it. I don’t know if he knows yet this is his trajectory. But the Crystal Killer isn’t leaving Misted Pines a free man…or, alternatively…alive.”
THIRTY-SIX
Time to Think
Purposefully, standing outside his SUV before he got in it to go up to Owen Larson’s property, because the man in the town council meeting complained about “wannabe GI Joes,” and it was a shot in the dark, but they’d received his permission to have a look around, Rus made a call.
He set the call to record and hit go on a number that he’d touched a half a dozen times in the day and a half since he’d received from it, and unsurprisingly in those times, Ezra Corbin hadn’t picked up.
Surprisingly, with some of the twenty thousand dollars of his wife’s money, he’d managed to get his hands on a privacy phone that had no GPS receiver, so they couldn’t track him.
But now, he picked up.
“She’s dead?”
His voice was the definition of panic.
And he was keeping on top of local news.
“We need you to come in, Ezra,” he said.
“Is she dead?”
“Yes, and we have reason to believe you’re in danger.”
“Oh my God, this is so fucked up!”
“If you’re in a place where it’s difficult to get into town, or you fear the travel, if you tell me where you are, I’ll make arrangements for someone to come get you.”