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“That’s what we thought. That he became a patient to get close to the therapist before killing him. But on our way here, Meg called to let us know Diaz didn’t fit the killer profile. But Polsner…”
“Is she here?” I ask.
“I’m at home,” Meg answers. “I asked Serena to look for a few things, and she was able to find out about Detective Polsner’s past. His father was abusive. There was a report—which was later withdrawn—from a doctor at St. Clarita’s Hospital. He found multiple wounds and bruises on a twelve-year-old Polsner. His brother was in and out of hospitals as well because of his hemophilia, but there was no report of abuse on him.”
“The father probably couldn’t touch him because of his blood disorder. He’d have bled to death after a beating,” Michael offers.
“Fast-forward ten years, the father disappeared. Polsner reported his brother missing a week after his mother died. The police never found him.”
“Because he killed him,” Uri interjects.
“Probably his first kill,” Meg says. “But it wasn’t enough. Polsner’s need to kill is pushed by his craving to keep punishing his brother. One time wasn’t enough, because he believes his brother is the reason for his shitty life.”
“Why did he wait this long? At the time of his brother’s death, he was twenty-two. Why let more than eight years pass?” Michael asks, moving his head back from my chest. He looks more like himself now.
“He enrolled into the police academy at that time. Maybe he wanted to lay low, or found something to fill his time,” Meg suggests.
“Or he never stopped killing, and we don’t know about it.” Rague is standing near Detective Diaz’s body, frowning at it.
“Detective Diaz started going to the therapist because he had doubts about Polsner. Why he chose that therapist, we don’t know. Clover —” a very skilled thief we work with sometimes “—found a bunch of private files in the therapist’s home under a floorboard. Diaz was thrown off by Polsner’s attitude. He described it as violent, evasive, odd at times. But in the last month, Diaz was actually following him. Maybe that’s how he got himself killed,” Rami finishes.
“It’s all very interesting, but we need to fix this mess. We can talk more about everything later,” Rami adds, looking straight at me and Michael.
“I have bleach in my car,” Rague says. “But a fire would do a better job.”
“You can’t burn Detective Diaz! He was a good cop. His family needs to bury him, not wonder all their life what happened to him.” Michael fists my shirt, looking in turn at all of us with so much pleading in his eyes I can’t seem to resist.
“Okay, babe, I have an idea.” My manipulative brain is in action.
Uri nods our way. “I’ll put old Betsy to sleep and then come help with the plan… whatever it is.”
“Meg. Do you still have the therapist’s file Clover stole?”
Chapter 18
MICHAEL
“Are you sure you want to see this?” Sari asks from my side.
Am I?
The sun will be rising soon. I’m tired. I slept only three hours before all hell broke loose. Detective Polsner is the Rope Killer. I still trying to wrap my head around it.
My mind goes back to an hour ago.
After securing a drugged Detective Polsner in the back of the infamous black van and moving Diaz’s body, Rague torched the place, looking all delighted. We didn’t stay for the spectacle, leaving the factory in Rami’s fancy electric car. He instructed Serena to take care of our digital footprints—whatever those are—while I checked Raph’s body. He winced again when I got closer to him in the back seat, and I found out he got hurt with a piece of wood when he tackled Polsner. A long cut under his abdomen, which looked fucking painful, even though Raph seemed okay with it.
“I’m fine, babe. Had much worse.”
His words made me pause. “Are you talking about when we were kids, or in recent years?” I swallowed hard, bracing myself for his reply. But I needed to know.
His fingers sank into my waist, his grip bruising. Was he afraid I’d jump out of a moving car? Or maybe he thought I’d panic again, like when I accidentally shot a gun—for the first time in my damn life, I might add.
Hitting Polsner had been the only silver lining. Even though my hand still hurt like a bitch. But I was glad Raph stopped me from killing him. I didn’t know what came over me, but I had been ready to actually end a life. I felt furious and frightened of losing Raph. Would I have pulled the trigger? I looked at Raph and the answer came easily.
Yes. I’d do anything to protect him.
I did kill someone already. James Crowly. His name was written in the police file Meg showed me. It was self-defense. I was only a kid. And I can't remember it, though.
