CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The FBI field office felt unusually quiet for late afternoon as Kate and DeMarco settled down in their go-to conference room when they arrived at the field office.
Kate used the single-cup coffee maker at the back of the room, the strong smell giving her a boost even before she had a sip.
She took note of the fact that DeMarco had already put some time in here; there were timeline charts and witness statements covering the long table in organized chaos, while a whiteboard displayed the names of all current and former book club members connected by lines that represented various relationships and potential motives.
DeMarco pulled out her phone and navigated back to David Fletcher's TikTok profile, scrolling through the recent livestream recordings they had reviewed earlier.
"I've watched these videos twice now, Kate.
The timestamps are legitimate, and you can see viewer comments coming in real-time during both murder windows. "
Kate studied the phone screen, watching a few minutes of Fletcher typing at his laptop while occasionally addressing his audience. "Tuesday night from seven to ten, Thursday night from eight-thirty to eleven-forty-nine. Those timeframes completely eliminate him for both murders."
Kate leaned back in her chair, considering their assessment of Fletcher as a suspect.
"You know, his profile did make sense initially.
The desperate need for validation from the book club members, the intimate knowledge of mystery novel tropes, and the recent job loss, creating financial and emotional stress. "
"All the psychological markers were there," DeMarco agreed. "Someone whose self-worth was tied to external approval, who might snap when faced with harsh criticism of his life's work."
"But his alibis are airtight."
“Yeah, without a doubt.”
Kate stood up and began pacing around the conference room. She sipped from the black coffee, finding git bitter but helpful. "And honestly, his response to Jennifer's criticism seemed mature and productive. He channeled his anger into revision work rather than revenge fantasies."
DeMarco nodded thoughtfully and said, "There's something else that bothers me about Fletcher as our killer. The level of premeditation we're seeing doesn't match someone acting out of wounded pride."
Kate stopped pacing and turned to face her partner. "What do you mean?"
"Think about the planning involved in these murders.
Margaret's killer had to know her evening routine, Harold's work schedule, her reading preferences, and her security habits.
Jennifer's killer had to gain access to her kitchen, know her tea ritual, understand the exact timing of when she'd be home from book club.
" DeMarco consulted her notes. "This isn't someone who got angry about criticism and lashed out.
This is someone who's been watching these women for weeks or months, learning everything about their lives. "
Kate felt a chill of recognition. "You're right. Fletcher's motive would align more with a heat-of-the-moment crime. Someone who confronted Jennifer about her harsh feedback, and things escalated. But what we're seeing is cold, calculated stalking behavior."
"The literary staging at both crime scenes took considerable planning, too. Someone had to research the specific details from the novels, time everything perfectly, and execute without leaving evidence."
Kate returned to her chair and pulled Margaret's crime scene photos closer. "So we're looking for someone who understands mystery fiction well enough to create these elaborate scenes, but whose actual motive might be something entirely different."
"Someone who's been studying these women's habits and vulnerabilities for an extended period," DeMarco added. "Which suggests either a connection we haven't identified yet, or a level of obsession that goes beyond normal book club relationships."
Kate organized the photos into chronological order, studying the progression from Margaret's carefully staged library scene to Jennifer's more chaotic living room death.
"I think we need to start putting pressure on the remaining book club members.
Individual interviews, more aggressive questioning, see if we can get someone's armor to crack. My cover is blown already, having spoken to David, so there’s no harm there. "
"Yeah, I agree with that. If our killer is among the current members, they've been maintaining a facade while sitting in rooms with their victims' friends. That kind of psychological stress has to be taking a toll."
Kate consulted the list of book club members they had compiled. "Eight current members, including Margaret and Jennifer. That leaves Eleanor Whitman, Sandra Morrison, Carol Stevens, Patricia Dunham, Diana Clark, and Mary Richardson. Plus, David Fletcher, though his alibis essentially clear him."
"Should we keep Fletcher on the suspect list just in case?" DeMarco asked.
"For now, yes. But let's focus our energy on the others.
" Kate stood up and gathered her notebook and keys.
"I think we should split up to cover more ground.
You take Sandra Morrison, Carol Stevens, and Patricia Dunham.
I'll handle Diana Clark, Mary Richardson, and circle back to Eleanor if needed. "
"What's our approach going to be?"
Kate considered the question carefully. "Direct but not accusatory.
We're concerned about their safety, but we also need to understand the group dynamics better.
Who had conflicts with Margaret and Jennifer?
Who knew their routines well enough to predict their schedules?
Who has the knowledge and access to plan these murders?
And maybe even recommend the same thing I asked of Elanor—to suggest they not go anywhere alone until we can wrap this case. "
DeMarco packed up her materials and prepared to leave. "If one of these women is our killer, she's been playing a role for months. Expressing grief over victims she murdered, comforting friends whose lives she's destroyed."
"The psychological profile of someone capable of that level of deception is pretty specific," Kate agreed.
"We're looking for someone with significant acting ability, emotional control, and probably some kind of personal vendetta against the victims. Chances are good that they’ll be an exceptional liar. "
As they prepared to leave the conference room, Kate pulled out her phone to check for messages. She had missed two texts from Allen and felt a pang of guilt about her lack of communication throughout the day.
The first message, sent around noon, read: "Michael's nap went well. Emma stayed until 2 PM as planned. Hope your investigation is progressing."
The second, sent just twenty minutes ago, was more detailed: "Michael had a good afternoon at the park. Dinner will be ready whenever you get home. Take care of yourself out there."
Kate typed a quick response and found herself wishing she was back at home with him.
Yes, the case was exciting, but she couldn’t ignore the pull to be back home with her family.
She was getting used to it now and any significant time spent away from them just felt wrong.
She typed back: "Thank you for handling everything today.
I know this case is demanding more than we planned.
Should be home by 7 PM. I appreciate you more than I probably show. "
She sent the message and immediately felt the weight of how much she was asking of Allen.
When they had discussed her return to FBI work, they had agreed on boundaries that would protect their family time.
But serial murder cases didn't respect those boundaries, and Allen was bearing the burden of her professional obligations without complaint.
All while they also spent time planning their wedding.
"Everything okay?" DeMarco asked, noticing Kate's distracted expression.
"Just checking in with Allen. He's been covering childcare all day while I chase down leads." Kate slipped her phone back into her pocket. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm taking him for granted."
"Allen seems pretty understanding about your work demands."
"He is, which makes it worse somehow. He never complains or makes me feel guilty, even when cases like this disrupt our entire routine." Kate gathered her jacket and badge. "He's a good man, and I'm not sure I always appreciate that enough."
DeMarco smiled sympathetically but remained quiet… which Kate appreciated. DeMarco had always known when to say something and when not to say a word.
As they left the field office—less than forty minutes after arriving—Kate found herself thinking about balance and priorities.
The case was consuming her attention in a way that felt both professionally necessary and personally challenging.
She could feel herself slipping into the intense focus that Allen had warned her about, the single-minded pursuit of answers that sometimes came at the expense of everything else.
Kate settled into her car and started the engine, already planning her approach to the remaining interviews.
Somewhere among the women she was about to question was potentially a killer who had successfully deceived her friends and neighbors while committing elaborate, premeditated murders.
She just hoped they could identify that person before they struck again.
As she pulled out of the parking garage, Kate made a mental note to be home by seven o'clock as promised... no matter where the case was. Allen and Michael deserved her full attention when she walked through their door, regardless of how consuming this case had become.
Of course, that was easier said than done.