Page 126 of Wild Embers
I exhale through my nose. “No one else. Not yet.”
Roman lets out his own quiet breath on the other end. “Okay. Start at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”
I spend the next several minutes taking him through the details of Derek Holt, Reverend Ricks, the crime scenes, the notes—everything we’ve uncovered up to this point.
Roman doesn’t utter a word until I’m done. He just listens.
“Have you figured out why the reverend was targeted?” he asks.
I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “Not yet. One of my deputies is tracking down a judge for warrants on his phone and bank records.”
“Good,” he commends.
The rapid clicking of keys echoes through the phone.
He’s taking notes, possibly doing his own research as well.
Of course he is.
“Your killer is organized,” Roman deduces after a moment. “Patient and purpose-driven.”
I lean farther into my headrest. “I gathered that.”
“Forget the fires,” he instructs, ignoring my sarcasm.
“What do you mean?”
“You were right. The fires are the cleanup. He’s using them to destroy evidence and control the narrative,” he explains.
My fingers tighten around my phone. I didn’t realize until now how much I needed that confirmation.
“If I had to bet,” Roman continues, “white male in his forties. Maybe fifties.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Confidence,” Roman answers without hesitation. “He’s comfortable enough to stage scenes, communicate with law enforcement, and he keeps escalating. That kind of thing usually comes with age.”
“What do you think about the psychopathy?” I question.
Roman hums in thought. “He doesn’t profile as a psychopath.”
His answer surprises me.
“He isn’t killing because he enjoys it,” Roman analyzes. “He’s killing because he believes he’s right.”
My stomach sinks.
Somehow that feels worse.
Much worse.
“There was a clue in the first victim’s mouth, but not the second, right?” Roman questions.
“Correct,” I confirm.
“Maybe the location of the body is the clue for the second victim,” he suggests.
I’ll get Tessa on that.
