Chapter 34
Detective Paige Walker
I was buried in paperwork as I sat at my desk, my partner sitting across from me, eating an apple.
“Do you mind?” I looked up at him.
“What?”
“I’m trying to get this paperwork cleared out, and you’re distracting me with that damn apple.”
“Does my chewing bother you?” A smirk crossed his lips.
“Actually, it does.”
“Someone took their bitchy pills this morning.” He grinned.
I picked up a paperclip and tossed it at him. My phone rang. Glancing over, I saw it was Luke.
“Luke,” I answered.
“Paige, you’re never going to believe this. We found The Last Chapter Killer. He’s dead.”
“What do you mean?”
The Key West Fire Department responded to a house fire late last night.
When officers arrived, they ran the license plate on the vehicle parked in the driveway.
It came back registered to Professor Alex Whitmore.
After firefighters were able to extinguish the fire, they discovered two bodies inside the house.
One male. One female. The medical examiner confirmed this morning that the male was Professor Alex Whitmore. ”
“What? The friend of that other professor who was murdered?”
“Yep.”
“Who was the female?” I asked.
“We’re still trying to identify her. We went to Professor Whitmore’s girlfriend’s house.”
“Dahlia?” I asked.
“Yeah. And no one was home. We questioned the neighbor, and she said Dahlia told her she was going on a business trip to Los Angeles for a few days.”
“Did you check the airlines?” I asked.
“We did, and nothing. There is no record of Dahlia booking a flight.”
“What about her car?”
“No sign of it anywhere. We’ve been searching. We notified the police in different states and Border Patrol to keep an eye out for it and her. I’ll let you know if we find her.”
“Thanks, Luke. I appreciate it. At least Key West can sleep peacefully tonight knowing that The Last Chapter Killer is no longer a threat.”
“Yeah. But things still aren’t adding up.”
The following morning, I set my coffee cup on my desk and sat down.
I’d tossed and turned all night long thinking about Dahlia.
I was there, in her home, while she was upstairs.
Damn it, I should have insisted on speaking with her.
What were the chances that her boyfriend turned out to be The Last Chapter Killer? It was her. I knew it was.
“Walker, there’s someone here to see you,” Officer Denton said.
Turning around, I froze when I saw Katherine Tate standing there.
“Katherine?” I slowly walked toward her, my hand resting on my holstered gun.
“Hello, Detective Walker. I need to speak to you, please. It’s important.”
My brows furrowed as I stared at her. I searched her face for something.
Anything that would justify my instincts.
But she didn’t look like a killer. She was composed, soft-spoken, polite, and frail.
She was the same woman I’d interviewed countless times.
Every instinct I had screamed at me to arrest her, but instincts weren’t evidence.
I had nothing that could place her at the scenes of the murdered husbands, and without that, my hands were tied.
“Let’s go talk. Follow me.” I led her to the interrogation room. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, soda?”
“Water would be good.”
“I’ll be right back.” I walked out the door and grabbed a bottle of water. “You said you wanted to talk.” I sat down and handed her the bottled water. “I’ve been looking for you, Katherine. You just disappeared without a trace. Where have you been?”
“I know.” She lowered her head. “And what I’m about to tell you is going to make me sound crazy.” She breathed out a laugh. “Actually, I am crazy.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Detective Walker. Please. Can you do that?”
“I’m listening.”
“I didn’t murder all those men. Dahlia did.”
“Who is Dahlia and where is she?”
“She’s in the cottage, sleeping, inside my mind.”
“Excuse me?” My brows furrowed.
She stared at me for a moment and slowly closed her eyes.
“Katherine?”
Her eyes opened. “Hello, Detective Walker. My name is The Librarian.”
Her voice. It was completely different from just a few moments ago. What the hell was happening?
“The Librarian?”
“Yes, that is correct,” she said.
“Where is Katherine?”
“She’s resting for a while. That poor girl is so afraid right now.”
This was completely unexpected and caught me off guard.
“Okay, Librarian. Help me understand what’s going on here,” I said.
“I’ll do my best. I keep records.”
“What kind of records?”
“Memories. The facts others forget.”
“I don’t understand?” I said, resting my hands on the table.
“When everyone else is overwhelmed by emotion, someone needs to remember what actually happened. That’s where I come in. I’m the protector of memories. Katherine’s memories.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I said.
“Katherine suffered a traumatic event when she was a child. Her mother killed her father in front of her while Katherine cowered in the corner. Katherine begged for help, and we were formed.”
“Who is ‘we?’”
“The others.”
“The others?” My brows furrowed.
“When one person can’t carry the weight anymore during a traumatic event, fragments of their mind break off into pieces, forming others to protect them. We’re a system.”
“A system? How many of you are there?” I asked.
“Many.” She smiled. “After the last murder in New York, Dahlia sent Katherine away. She tucked her safely inside the cottage by the ocean and took control. Katherine had just learned the truth about what happened to her as a child through therapy. It was too much for her to carry. So Dahlia did what she had always done. She took the pain upon herself and locked Katherine away where she couldn’t hurt anymore until it was safe.
But then Dahlia’s mind became twisted. She absorbed what Mother had done and believed she was right in doing so.
She loved Katherine so much that she couldn’t bear to see her hurt.
That’s why she killed her boyfriend and her husbands.
But when Katherine started practicing divorce law, and almost every case was because of husbands’ cheating, Dahlia’s needs grew stronger.
She had seen what affairs did to a family.
The disaster they’d left behind. Whenever she’d hear about a cheating husband, her mind would go back to that night.
The night it all happened. The night Dahlia was born.
She’d stare at little Katherine in the corner, shaking and frightened for her life.
In Katherine’s mind, her father destroyed the one place she believed she was safe. ”
“I don’t follow,” I said.
“You’ve been looking at the victims, Detective Walker.
Dahlia was looking at the children they left behind.
So every cheating husband became a reminder.
Not of Katherine’s father. Of the little girl crouched in the corner of the room, watching her family disappear.
Trauma explains behavior, but it doesn’t excuse it.
I tried to stop her. To reason with her.
But her twisted mind was too far gone. After she killed the professor, the others and I assembled and agreed she needed to be stopped.
We forced Katherine back into this world and locked Dahlia away for good.
Katherine needs help, Detective Walker. It may have been her body that physically murdered those men, but it wasn’t Katherine.
She shouldn’t be punished for something she had no control over. She came to you for help.”
She closed her eyes, and after a moment, they opened.
“I’m sorry, Detective Walker. What did you ask me?”
“Katherine?” My brows furrowed.
“Yes.”