I have no idea what she's talking about. Is she calling me a killer? Does she know something she ought not know?
After a moment, her expression softens, a slight smile touching her lips. "You have no idea what I said, do you?"
"Killer."
"Yes," she says. "I said I miss Killer."
It takes me just as long to comprehend those words, to realize she's talking about a damn dog. I remember her mentioning him when we visited the house in Watertown and then encountering the mutt in her father's house months ago.
"Ah," I say. "Your dog."
"Yes, I miss him." Her brow furrows contemplatively. "Is that weird? Everything going on, everything that happened, and I think the dog worries me most."
"That's a little weird, yes."
She laughs to herself, turning back to her notebook, and absently scribbles along the edge of the paper. I can tell she's distracted and paying no attention to anything. "I just... I don't know. I sometimes think he's the only innocent one in all of this."
"The dog," I say, wanting to clarify to make sure we're still on the same page.
Another laugh. "Yes."
"You don't think you're innocent?"
"Me?" she asks incredulously. "Not anymore. You screwed the innocence right out of me. Literally."
"I'm serious, Karissa."
"So am I. Maybe I used to be innocent, I don't know, but I'm not anymore."
"You really believe that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I'm with you."
She means that. I can tell from the tone of her voice. She thinks she's one of the guilty parties, that she played a hand in what's going on.
"How innocent can I really be to sleep with the man who wants to murder my family?" she asks. "When you first told me about... about Maria, and the baby, and what happened to them... when you told me you wanted justice, I knew what you meant. I knew you were out for blood. And that night you told me, I loved you more for it. I respected you. The bloodlust didn't bother me. It wasn't until I realized you were gunning for me... for my family... that I was bothered by it."
"I'm not going to hurt you," I say for what feels like the millionth time.
"I know," she says quietly. "I believe that now. Maybe I always believed it. But you do hurt others. I'm not an idiot. I know what you're capable of. I've seen it. And still, here I am, worrying about a dog and what happened to him. My mother, she's resilient. I worry about her, too, but I just... I don't know. How could I even begin to defend her? I'm not even sure what she's capable of. But the dog... he's done nothing wrong, and I worry about what's going to come of him in this all."
If I were a shrink, I'd say something about projection, about how's she's channeling her fears for herself into another living thing because she's too scared to face them, but I know she doesn't want to hear that.
I know, because the hospital made me talk to one of them years ago. I almost ripped his fucking spine out when he tried to diagnose me.
Personality disorder, my ass.
No, Karissa wants to talk about the goddamn dog, so I'll talk about it.
"Don't worry," I say. "Killer will be fine."
"You mean that?"
"Sure."
She smiles, like my words set her at ease, even though it makes no sense. How the hell could I know anything? She goes back to scribbling in her notebook, her eyes bouncing between it and the television as she takes notes.
My gaze turns back to my laptop, every muscle in my body seizing the moment I look at the screen. There it is, in the top right hand corner, the camera view of the alley beside Cobalt.
An old Jeep Waggoner.
I almost missed it, distracted by Karissa. But I know that car. I recognize it. Carmela drove one the entire time she was on the run, the plates fictitious, completely untraceable. I hit pause, isolating the frame and enlarging it. Bingo. I hit play again, running the feed at half the speed. One person in the car, but something else moves around in the backseat.
Killer.
"You know, he used to sleep with me at night," Karissa says across the room, still going on about it. "He was kind of my best friend. He could always tell when I was upset or lonely and made a point to keep me company. And yeah, I know it's ridiculous, but he's kind of the only one who's never lied to me."
"I've never lied to you."
"That's a damn lie if I've ever heard one," she grumbles. "You're the freaking king of deception."
"There's a difference between lying and misleading."
"Maybe to you there is, but not to me."
I jot down the plate number, not sure how much help it will be, before letting the feed run at regular speed. I go back to all the camera angles, watching as the car circles the club before she speeds away. She hits the end of the alley and takes a right, heading south through the city.