The dressing room. The blood. The smell
But by the time I found herby the time I found youit was too late. She was already dead. She was gone, and it wasnt fair. I was supposed to kill her. I was supposed to be the one.
My aunt hadnt killed my motherbecause someone else had gotten there first.
When I found out that she was dead, and you were gone, when I found out that theyd sent you to live with your fathers familyI was your family, too! I thought about taking you. I even went to Colorado, but when I got there, there was this junkie at my motel. She was cheap and loose and dirty, and her hair was the exact right shade of red. I killed her, and I said, How do you like that, Lore? I carved her up until I could imagine Lorelais face underneath, and God, it felt good. She paused. It was the sweetest, you know. The first time. It always is. And after the first time, you always need more.
Is that why you joined the FBI? I asked. Lots of travel, easy access, the perfect cover?
Agent Locke took a step toward me. Every muscle in her body was taut. For a moment, I thought that she would hit meagain and again and again.
No, she said. Thats not why I joined.
When people ask me why I do what I do, I tell them that I went into the FBI because a loved one was murdered .
Lockes words came back to me then, and I realized that shed been telling the truth.
You joined the FBI because you wanted to find my mothers killer.
Not because she was upset that my mom was dead. Because shed wanted to be the one to kill her.
I changed my name. I studied. I planned. I passed the psych exams with flying colors. Even once Briggs and I started working together and he brought me in on the Naturals program, no one really saw me. They only saw what I wanted them to see. Lia never caught me in a lie. Michael never saw a hint of unsavory emotion. And DeanI was like family to him.
Hearing Deans name made my eyes dart over to his body. He still wasnt movingbut Michael was. His eyes were open. He was bleeding. He couldnt walk, he couldnt even crawl, but he was pulling himself slowly across the floorto his gun.
Locke moved to follow my gaze, but I stopped her.
It isnt the same, I said, my voice decisive and calm.
What isnt? Lockeno, her name wasnt really Locke, not if she was my mothers sistersaid.
I had less than a second to think of an answer, but growing up the daughter of a woman who made her living by pretending to be psychic hadnt just taught me the BPEs. For better or worse, Id learned to put on a show, so I said the one thing I could think of that would keep Lacey Hobbes s attention focused solely and 100 percent on me.
You tried to restage my mothers murder, but you got it wrong. What youre doing to these women isnt the same as what I did to my mother.
The woman in front of me had wanted to kill my mother, but shed also desperately wanted her acceptance. Shed wanted to be a part of a family, and shed brought me here tonight with some twisted hope that I could be that for her. Shed enjoyed being my mentor. She wanted me to be like her.
Now my job was to convince her that I was.
My mother didnt protect you, I said, mirroring the rage and desperation and hurt I saw on her face. She didnt protect me, either. There were men. She didnt love them. She didnt stay with them. She didnt say a word when they took their frustrations out on me. She was weak. She was a whore. She hurt me.
Lia would have known I was lying, but the woman in front of me wasnt Lia. I smiled, letting the expression spread slowly across my face, keeping my eyes on my aunt, never looking, even for a second, at Michael.
So I hurt her.
My aunt stared at me, her face still twisted in disbelief, but her eyes wistful with longing.
She was getting ready. Putting on her lipstick. Pretending she was so perfect and so special, that she wasnt a monster. I said her name. She turned around, and I took my knife. I plunged it into her stomach. She said my name. That was it. Just Cassie. So I stabbed her again. And again. She fought. She kicked and she screamed, but this time, I was the one with the power. I was the one doing the hurting, and she was the one getting hurt. She fell on her stomach. I flipped her over so I could see her face. I didnt drag the knife over her cheekbones. I didnt carve her up. I dipped my fingers into her side. I made her scream. And then I painted her lips with blood.
Lockeno, Hobbes Lacey was captivated. For a single second, I thought she might believe me. Her knife hand hung loosely by her side. Her other hand reached into her pocket. She pulled something outI couldnt see what. She fingered it for a momentgingerly, carefullyand then she crushed her fingers into a fist.
An excellent performance, she said. But Im a profiler, too. Ive been doing this a lot longer than you have, Cassie, and your mother wasnt killed by a twelve-year-old girl. Youre not a killer. You dont have what it takes. She lifted the knife and started forward, the longing in her eyes turning to something else.