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“The Strangler… he was here. He drew faces on my wall. When did you come home, Irene?”
She jerked back, her face pale.
“I-I think… maybe around five. I don’t think anyone was inside,” Irene said, eyes wide. “But why would he be in our home, Yara? Fuck. Did he know you’re hunting him? Is that why he was…” Her fingers trembled.
I nodded, taking her cold hands in mine. She looked at me, eyes full of fear, and I wanted to kill The Strangler twice for this. After everything he put her through…
“Yara… what are we going to do?” Her voice shook.
“I’m going to find him. You’re going to keep yourself safe.” She yawned again. I chuckled a little. “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“I don’t want to,” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“Please.”
She sighed. “Okay. You’ll tell me everything in the morning.”
“I will.”
My stomach tilted and I had a bad feeling about all of that, but I had to. She deserved to know.
When I walked back to my room, Ryden was still studying the wall.
“She didn’t see anyone,” I said, and he whirled toward me, eyes narrowed. I walked closer to him, and he leaned against my shoulder.
“So… the letters?” His frown deepened. I pressed a finger against the knot in his brows.
“For me.” I gave him a nod.
“Have you read them?”
“Yes,” I said, walking toward my desk. Using a key, I opened the drawer and pulled out a thick manila envelope. “His letters.”
“Maybe we can find something now that we know they’re for you.”
“All his letters talk about how much he loves his little love. There’s nothing else. I don’t have to read them again,” I said, pulling a bunch of papers out of the envelope and handing them to him. “I remember them by heart.”
It was every letter The Strangler had written, pieced, and collected from different articles and sources. Not every letter was complete, though.
“The way he calls you ‘little love’ with such familiarity… he knows you,” Ryden said, his voice twisted with anger. His fingers were gripping the paper so tight that his knuckles turned white. “He thinks he’s really in love with you.”
“Just my luck,” I said with a frown. I hadn’t added the recent letters and the podcast list to my collection yet, so Ryden wouldn’t find anything he shouldn’t. “I’m afraid Kat was a target because of me. I never thought about it, but now the idea won’t leave me alone,” I said, twiddling with my dress.
How I wished, how I prayed that wasn’t true. But deep in my soul, I knew I wasn’t wrong.
“No, I know Kat died because of me. I was the reason, just as I was the reason for all of these deaths,” I whispered. The ice in my veins was freezing.
“Not you. The only one you should blame is The Strangler, Yara,” Ryden said, grabbing another letter from the pile. “There’s nothing here, as you said.”
“If we can read the new letter,” I said, staring at him, “I feel like there would be more clues in the last one. After all this time, after all these games, he wouldn’t keep holding back, would he?”
“You’re right, he wouldn’t. This was exactly what he wanted. But with the FBI swarming in, there’s no way we’ll get that letter.”
I knew he was right.
“Fucking piece of crap. I want to…” I yawned. Ryden cupped my face, his eyes soft. “You should sleep, Yara. You look like you’re going to faint.”
“I can’t. I—what if he comes back? What if he finds Irene and…” I didn’t care about myself. I only cared for Irene’s safety. I wouldn’t let him take her away from me.
