Last to Die

of knowledge. But it was this man she now struggled to read, a man as unknowable as a closed book.
    “Who
was
Anna Welliver?” Maura asked. “I saw her autopsy. Her body is covered with old scars from torture. I know her husband was murdered, but what happened to Anna?”
    He shook his head and sighed. “Will it always be this way between us?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Why can’t we have normal conversations, like other people? About the weather, the theater? Instead we talk about your work, not the most pleasant of subjects. But I suppose that is what keeps bringing us together.”
    “Death, you mean?”
    “And violence.” He leaned forward, his eyes as intense as lasers. “We’re so much alike, you and I. There’s a darkness in you, and that’s the bond we share. We both understand.”
    “Understand what?”
    “That the darkness is real.”
    “I don’t want to see the world that way,” she said.
    “But you see the evidence every time a corpse lands on your autopsy table. You know the world isn’t all sunshine, and so do I.”
    “And that’s what we bring to this friendship, Anthony? Doom and gloom?”
    “I sensed it in you the first time we met. It runs deep in you, because of who you are.”
    Who I am
. Queen of the dead. The daughter of monsters. The darkness extended as deep as the blood in her veins, because it was the same blood that ran in her mother Amalthea, a killer who would spend the rest of her life in prison.
    His gaze was so intent that she could not bear to maintain eye contact. She focused, instead, on the briefcase he’d set on the table. They had known each other for almost two years, yet with just a look, he could still throw her off balance and make her feel like a specimen under glass, examined and exposed.
    “I’m not here to talk about myself,” she said. “You promised you’d tell me the truth about Anna.”
    He nodded. “What I
can
tell you, anyway.”
    “Did you know that she was a victim of torture?”
    “Yes. And we knew she was still deeply haunted by what happened to her and her husband in Argentina.”
    “Yet you hired her. Brought her onto your staff as a counselor to vulnerable children.”
    “The Evensong school board hired her.”
    “You must have personally approved it.”
    He nodded. “Based on her references, her academic qualifications. Her dedication to crime victims. And she was one of
us
.”
    “A member of the Mephisto Society.”
    “She, too, was personally scarred by violence. Twenty-two years ago, Anna and her husband were working for an international firm in Argentina when they were abducted. Both Anna and her husband were tortured. Her husband, Frank, was executed. The killers were never captured. That experience taught Anna that justice is unreliable. That monsters are always with us. She left the company she’d been working for, went back to graduate school, and became a counselor for crime victims. Sixteen years ago, she joined us.”
    “You’re not exactly in the Yellow Pages. How did she learn about the society?”
    “The way all our members do. Through an intermediary.”
    “She was recruited?”
    “Her name was proposed to the society by a member who served in law enforcement. Anna came to his attention because of her excellent work as a counselor. He knew that she’d lost her husband to violence. That she was especially effective with childhood victims, and she had multiple contacts within law enforcement and child protective agencies around the country.” He lifted the briefcase he’d carried into the library and set it on the table. “After I got news of her death, I reviewed her membership file.”
    “Every member has a file?”
    “Compiled at the time of proposal. I’ve redacted the sensitive information, but here’s what I can share with you.”
    “I can’t be trusted with the complete file?”
    “Maura.” He sighed. “Even though I trust you, some information can be shared only among members.”
    “Then why show this to me at all?”
    “Because you’ve made yourself part of the investigation. You attended the autopsy. You requested a comprehensive tox screen on Anna’s blood, so I assume you have doubts it was a suicide. When you raise questions, I listen. Because I know how good you are at your job.”
    “I have no evidence yet to support my doubts.”
    “But something’s triggered your instincts. Something in your subconscious has picked up details that you’re not even aware of yet.