Page 82 of What We May Be

“Not nothing. We’ve got a pattern with one victim left.”

“Lady Macbeth.” She kicked off her heels and began to pace. “The actually guilty one.”

Sean rested against the table’s edge, out of her way. “She’s ambitious, manipulative, and goads Macbeth, among others, into murder.”

“Given our killer’s MO, I don’t think they’d flip their script and kill someone innocent. That doesn’t make their point, doesn’t satisfy some wrong.”

“Agreed, but given Lady Macbeth’s actual guilt, I don’t think the victim is necessarily a man this time.”

“Makes sense.” She continued to pace as she put together the pieces of their last victim’s profile. “So if the pattern holds, we’re looking for a person the killer perceives as power hungry, as an accessory to murder, is connected to my family and maybe the night of my mother’s death, and somehow did Trevor wrong.”

Sean’s lack of a rejoinder brought her to a halt in front of him. She startled at the haunted look in his eyes.

“Sean?”

“Charlie, sit down.” His voice was quiet, tight, laced with dread.

Slowly, she lowered herself into the chair beside him. When he didn’t sit or explain, she laid a hand on his thigh. “Sean, you’re scaring me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He covered her hand with his. “I see two possible victims, and you will too if you stop and think for a minute.”

It didn’t take her a minute. It took her less than ten seconds to connect the dots, and when she did, her stomach hit the floor and her breath caught in her throat. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on their clasped hands and whispered the horrible realization.

“You…and me.”

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