Page 67 of Girl, Unseen

'Yeah, but-'

The buzz of the holding cell door broke her chain of thought. Ross emerged looking like he'd just won the lottery.

'Got something.' He brandished a manila folder. 'Ezra Crowley's real name is not Ezra Crowley if you can believe it.'

‘What is it?’

Ross pulled out a DMV photo. ‘Real name is Todd Peterson. Born in Newark, moved to the city ten years ago. No priors except a parking ticket from 2019.’

Luca snorted. ‘What, Todd? Seriously?’

‘Seriously.’

‘I can see why he changed it.’

Ross continued, ‘But it gets better. Guess where our friend Todd works when he’s not playing wannabe Charles Manson?’

‘Where?’ Ella asked.

‘Cloud Nine Aviation Services. He's their safety compliance officer.’

The air left Ella's lungs. ‘Cloud Nine? Tessa Webster's dispatch company?’

‘The same. He would have known her flight plan, her route, everything.’

A link. Finally a concrete connection between their suspect and a victim. Cloud Nine. The company that had been coordinating Tessa Webster's flight. The one she'd been in radio contact with right up until her big swan dive into oblivion.

And Todd Peterson worked there. The same Todd Peterson who moonlighted as Ezra Crowley, alchemical high priest and all-around nutjob. It wasn't a smoking gun, but it was a hell of a lot of gunpowder in one place.

The relief hit Ella like a shot of whiskey - smooth at first, then burning all the way down.

Luca whistled and said, ‘Slap my ass. We’ve got ourselves a genuine connection to a victim. With a link like that, we can probably get a warrant to toss his place and see what else he’s got squirreled away.’

But Ross wasn't done. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small evidence bag. Inside was a scrap of paper, folded and creased like it had been shoved into a pocket and forgotten.

‘There's more.’ Ross pulled out a sheet of notepaper. ‘Found this when we processed him. Stuffed in his wallet behind a punch card for the local juicery, if you can believe it.’

Ella took it. The paper looked expensive - thick stock, deckled edges. Someone had written TESSA WEBSTER in flowing script, surrounded by five familiar symbols.

‘God dammit,’ Ella breathed.

Luca peered over. ‘The symbols. These were what he’d come to plant at the scene.’

She held the paper up to the light. There was no doubting it. They were identical. Triangles locked in circles. Spirals eating their own tails.

‘But why’s he got them on a piece of paper?’

‘A reminder of how to draw them, maybe? They’re pretty complex. I can barely remember how to draw a stickman.’

Ross said, ‘He claims it’s not what we think, but he didn’t elaborate.’

‘They all say that. What else did you find on him?’

‘Nothing much. Phone, wallet, keys. No weapons.’

‘Did he mention his cult’s meeting last night?’

'I alluded to it, but he denied everything.'

---