Lynch wiped away the tears she hadn’t realized were on her cheeks.
Only then did she look down at the oversized chair on the other side of the room, where Dean’s headless corpse was seated. It was positioned comfortably, with hands on the end of each armrest.
As police flashlights played across the corpse, Kendra could see that Dean’s shirt was unbuttoned.
Letters had been carved into his chest. A Latin phrase, she realized.
One of the cops crouched next to the corpse and tried to read it. “Meteor?”
“No,” Kendra said numbly. “It says ‘Mereor.”
“Mereor?”
“It means … ‘I win.’”
San Quentin State Penitentiary
Execution Chamber
WARDEN SALAZAR LOOKED DOWN AT COLBY’S FACE. Just as icy and cruel in death as in life, he thought.
The last of the witnesses had just left, and the execution team was prepping the body for transport to a waiting hearse.
“I want to see it,” he told Hoyle.
Hoyle shrugged. “Whatever you say, sir.” He stepped closer to Colby’s body and moved aside his open shirt to reveal Colby’s final message to the world.
There, scabbed and bloody, was scratched a single Latin phrase:
Mereor.
San Diego
1:33 A.M.
“COME ON.” LYNCH OPENED KENDRA’S passenger door. “I need to get you inside and give you a strong cup of coffee. I don’t like the way you’re looking right now.”
“I’m okay.” It was a lie. She felt frozen. The last hour she had spent at Dean Halley’s house had been a nightmare. She had not been able to concentrate enough to find any way to help with the investigation. All she could do was to keep trying to connect that grotesque headless corpse to the sweet, humorous man she had begun to care about. Memories kept flooding back to her of Dean at that Starbucks telling her about his family and offering her some of his pastry. Dean whisking her mother out of that classroom and taking over himself. “But I can use the coffee. I’m … cold.” She followed him to the door and watched him unlock it. “Though God knows I don’t want the caffeine to keep me awake tonight.”
“No, you want to block it all out.” He headed for the kitchen. “And that’s what I want for you, too. Just one night of rest and freedom before you dive into this horror again.” He gestured to the chair at the granite bar in the kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll have your coffee in just a minute.” He set the K-cup in the automatic coffeemaker. He didn’t look at her as he got down a cup from the cabinet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”
“He was a good guy. Kind of funny and sweet…” She swallowed. “Mom thought he was the perfect match for me. Nice, solid, and steady. She was hoping he’d be able to persuade me to—” She stopped and drew a shaky breath. “How am I going to tell Mom about this? She thought the world of him, and now he’s—”
Head on a pole.
Headless corpse in a chair.
Mereor.
“You don’t have to tell her yet.” Lynch set the coffee in front of her. “Griffin is trying to keep the details of what happened from the media. You’ll have a few hours at least.”
“No more than that. I can’t risk her hearing it from someone else.” She took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and strong, and she needed it. “I just … don’t know how yet. How can I tell her that Dean Halley died because she arranged a blind date for me with him? Because that’s what happened, isn’t it? Myatt saw him with me at some time or other and decided that he’d be a perfect chess piece in this game he and Colby were playing with me.”
Head on a pole.
Back away. Don’t think of that unspeakable sight.
“Myatt thinks he’s won. He thinks he’s hurt me.”
“And has he?” Lynch asked quietly.
“Yes, he’s hurt me. No, he’s not won.” She took another sip of coffee. “I just have to be able to think again. It may take a while.” Her lips twisted. “But I may not be able to afford that time. He’s closing in on me, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” He took his own cup from the coffeemaker. “But I won’t let him get any closer. I have your back.”
“Do you?” She looked at him over the rim of her cup. “That can be dangerous. Dean wanted to protect me, too.”
“I have your back,” he repeated. “There’s no comparison between Halley and me.” He added bluntly, “If anyone’s going to end up on a pole, it’s not going to be me. Or you.”
Sledgehammer. But she welcomed that roughness at this moment. It soothed the rawness and shock and brought her back to what they were together.