Page 68 of Girl, Sought

‘A collection like that? Vanessa pulled rank and did it herself.’

‘So how did you know his collection was in his basement?’

‘Word gets around. It’s kind of a joke in our game.Worth more than Carpenter’s basement.You know? Vanessa said that he had some of Jesus’s bones in there.’

Ella studied the purple masterpiece Luca's fist had painted across Thorne's face. The swelling had gone down, but the colors had deepened, like a sunset in human tissue.

‘Alright, well given that Joseph Carpenter was killed around the time I was chasing you through the U-Stor, it seems unlikely that you’re responsible for these murders.’

Thorne blinked away the surprise. ‘Wow. Well, this is certainly very bittersweet. I promise you, I’m no killer.’

‘I know, Gabriel.I've spent enough time with killers to know one when I see one. You might be a tax cheat, petty thief, maybe the world’s worst escape artist. But you’re not a killer.’

Hope flickered behind his eyes. ‘I’m… oddly appreciative of that. So I can go?’

Ella shrugged in defeat. ‘Looks that way.’

‘What about the…othercharges?’

‘I’ve told Detective Reeves about your exploits, and if he wants to take things further then that’s his decision. But I’ve got no need to keep you here.’

Thorne nodded in relief, but to her surprise, he remained seated. ‘Thanks, but look, is there anything else I can help you with? You might not realize, but I don’t like the idea of someone killing off collectors.’

‘Because you might be a potential target?’

Thorne shoulder’s squared, like the idea of him being a collector offended him. ‘Please, I’m not one of them. I have no interest in that world. I just help them pay less tax.’

'Understood. You don't happen to know anyone in your world who drives a blue sedan, do you? Or picks the skin on their fingers?'

Confusion wrinkled his brow. ‘No. I mean, Sarah drives a Prius, but it's red. And Vanessa's got some fancy German thing. Black, I think. Nobody with a blue car that I can think of.’

‘Right.’ Ella nodded, filing away another dead end in the ever-growing cabinet of things that didn't add up. ‘Guess that's -’

But then something clicked. A detail that had been rattling around her skull finally found purchase. Like that moment when you remember where you left your keys, except these keys might unlock a killer's psychology.

‘Wait a second. Earlier, you said something about collectors. That they infuriated you.’

‘Yeah, they do.’ Thorne's voice carried an undercurrent of bitterness that seemed to surprise even him. ‘More than you'd probably understand.’

‘Try me.’

Thorne's face twisted like he'd bitten into something rancid. ‘They're these smug assholes who collect beautiful, incredible things and then what? Lock them away like they're guarding some sacred treasure. They wrap their arms around this stuff like it's the last fertile horse in the barn, and for what? So they can feel special?’

‘And you hate that.’

‘You have no idea. These people, they think owning things makes them better than everyone else. Like having the money to buy something rare somehow elevates them above the rest of us.’

‘So that's why you steal their trinkets? Wealth redistribution?’

‘Yeah. No.’ Thorne's face contorted with something that looked like shame. ‘I mean, maybe at first. But it's more complicated than that.’

‘Explain it to me.’ Ella kept her voice neutral, but her mind was already assembling pieces of a psychological puzzle. ‘Because here's what I don't get – you hate collectors for hoarding things, but then you keep what you steal. That drawer in your office is practically a collection itself.’

Thorne’sshoulders slumped as though the weight of his own contradictions was finally too heavy to bear.

‘I might be a money-hungry son of a bitch, but the stealing... it's not about profit. It's like an itch I can't scratch. I see something small that these people probably won't even miss, and my fingers start tingling. Next thing I know, it's in my pocket.’

‘But you don't sell the items.’

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