Page 171 of Rags's Awakening
Casey smiled.
Devin stared.
“The Bismarck was good. Thanks for sharing it with me,” she said as she rose to her feet.
She picked up his empty plate and padded to the kitchen. He kept going on about the different fillings the bakery carried as she placed the dishes in the dishwasher.
“And you did love it, right?”
“What?” Casey glanced over her shoulder.
“The Bismarck. You loved it.”
“Oh, sure. It was good.”If you like soggy grease.
“That’s perfect.”
Casey watched the snow falling outside the kitchen window. “It doesn’t look like the snow is slowing down. You better get going before the streets are impassable. I still have a lot of work to do. I’ll return the original letters in a few days. Is that okay?”
“You know, history is the thread that binds us,” Devin replied.
Casey stepped back into the living room and stopped beside the couch. “It is,” she said.
“That’s why I knew you would appreciate not just the stories but the illustrations about the early twentieth murders,” he said mildly. “Especially the unsolved stranglings in 1903. The thingpeople always miss is that they weren’t about control. They were about preservation.”
The moment stretched, thin and brittle. Devin kept talking about the ligature-mark illustrations of the victims, but Casey barely heard him.The book. He told me he hadn’t put it on my desk. That he never heard of it.A slow, sick burn spread through her chest. Devin hadn’t just lied to her. He’d orchestrated what she saw, what she read, what she thought about when she was alone. Her pulse thudded in her ears as the truth settled.He wanted me to find it.
Devin tilted his head, his eyes locked onto hers. “You went quiet.”
“I was just listening,” she murmured.
He rose to his feet. “When reading the narrative, you probably noticed how calm the killer seemed afterward,” he said, a small smile playing at his lips. “That part always sticks with people.”
Casey chewed the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, I did. Do you want another cup of tea?”
“You remind me of her sometimes.” His gaze drifted away.
“Who?”
“My sister.”
His sister? He told me he was an only child.Casey tightened her grip on the couch.
“She was perfect,” he said quietly. “Mother made sure I knew it. She read her stories, made her special treats, sang to her.”
His eyes lifted to hers. “She never did any of that for me.”
Casey glanced toward the desk across the room. She needed to get closer.
“Mother called Sarah her little princess,” he continued. “She said she had a light about her. Everyone agreed… even me.”
Casey nodded, calculating the distance to the revolver.
“She loved blueberry Bismarcks.” A wistful smile touched his lips. “Mother would bring them home, and Sarah would always share one with me. She also loved it when I made shadow puppets on the walls. She’d always laugh.”
Again, Casey nodded. She took another step. Then another.
Devin sighed. “I tried to protect her. Mother kept pulling her away from me. Like I was dangerous.”
