The intense day finally caught up to Avery on the drive home. All of a sudden, she found herself on her old street, driving to her old apartment in South Boston.
Whoa, she thought.
Quickly, she turned and headed in the right direction.
After her last case, Avery had not only upgraded her ride, but she'd also realized it would be better-both mentally and physically-if she moved into a completely new section of town. Although she'd always admired her last apartment, it was filled with too many memories of her former life; she'd bought it right after leaving her power job at Seymour & Finch, and the one and only time her daughter, Rose, had visited, the first sentence out of her mouth was: "This place is dark and miserable; it feels like somewhere people go to die."
Her new home was on Claremont Street in the Columbus district of Boston. The money from her last apartment had allowed her to buy an even bigger two-bedroom space that, in the daytime, boasted bright sunlight from three directions and an outdoor terrace. Combined with the many windows, it made Avery feel like a completely different person.
She parked in the lot and headed up.
The open expanse of her huge new home was filled with boxes, countless boxes that hadn't been opened. Boxes in the bedroom contained her clothing and a single mattress had been thrown on the floor with a sheet and blanket to sleep. Still, Avery couldn't get over how far she'd come. The new place and her new ride were such a far cry from the life she left behind in Ohio. Every time she felt lost or down, she would think of it. You came from nothing, she told herself, and then you became a high-powered lawyer and now a cop. Remember that.
Exhausted but still buzzed, Avery brushed her teeth and crashed on the mattress.
Sleep refused to take her.
The killer's note was fresh in her mind. She typed every word into her phone and searched for a match. Nothing came up.
Images bombarded her: the boat, the apartment, the fence across the street, all the books she'd seen on Venemeer's shelves, and the body with the hidden star and eerie shadow.
The kill might have been personal, she thought, and the way the body was left harks to a serial killer. No one else leaves such a profound mark for no reason.
She searched for new articles on her phone, not just from Boston but from across Massachusetts and surrounding states. She was looking for anything remotely related to what she'd observed on the yacht: a body placed in a certain way after death, possibly on water. Lots of images appeared from much older cases, all serial-killer related; none of them had the same feel from what she'd witnessed.
She put her phone to the side.
She stared at the ceiling.
What are you missing? she wondered.
An old, familiar voice returned to her mind: "You have to think like a killer, Avery. He won't want to be caught, but he'll be so excited to tell you everything. You have to think like him to see between the lines."
Although Howard Randall was a psychotic murderer that had nearly destroyed her life, Avery had felt a strange connection to him over the past five years. The term "mentor" rang true to their union. Her father had never been a real father; her mother was even worse. The foster homes of her youth had done little but make her want to rebel against society. There had been mentors here and there: a high-school coach that helped her get into college; Jane Seymour, the head lawyer at Seymour & Finch; and Howard.
You don't need Howard to solve this murder or any other, she inwardly fought. True, she realized. But he always follows your cases. And what he gleans from papers alone is fascinating. Maybe he can offer some insight.
She laughed at the idea.
At what price? she wondered. You said goodbye. Let him go.
Still, she couldn't shake the idea.
The papers will have a field day with you, So what? They do already. O'Malley will kill you. Randall might be able to help! Check out Venemeer's friends and workers first, she urged. Exhaust every angle before you make a really stupid mistake.
Her head lay on the pillow.
Eyes open, she stared at the wall and mulled her options.
