The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery

now tracking her down like prey. Why was he doing this? Protocol vanished. As if her hand had a mind of its own she snatched the mouse and double-clicked the first message. It read:
    This is my last hope for reaching you. I’m begging you to hear me. Please, write back and let me explain. I am not the monster you think. I’m at my computer, waiting. I know you won’t believe me, but what I am writing is true. I love you.
    Kyle
    And then the next:
    Angel
    I know you keep your computer on. Please, open this letter—it’s the only way we can speak. If I wanted to hurt you, I could have. Easily. But that is not my plan. There are things to say. I can help you if you let me. Write back.
    Love,
    Kyle
    Her blood pounded so hard she could hear her own pulse threading through her neck. She would not allow herself to think. Her fingers spilled rage as they flew across her keyboard.
    What is wrong with you? Why can’t you leave me alone!?! I want you to leave me alone! I’m asking you to go away. Forever. Turn yourself in!
    Not allowing herself to think she hit send. Her father would be furious, but it wasn’t Patrick who was in Kyle’s sights. She was the target; everyone else only orbited on the periphery. Images of her life tumbled, then focused, and she saw herself clearly as the victim she had become. The picture of herself made her sick to her stomach. When had she become so weak? Kyle had overtaken her. He had infected her life and she was going to exorcise him herself. This was a battle between the two of them. Kyle and Cameryn, alone in the dark, while Silverton slept.
    Chewing her fingernail, she stared at the screen until she heard the familiar chime.
    If I could leave you alone I would have long ago. Do you remember the night when I took you to the cemetery? How can I make you understand—I changed that night. I am so sorry about the shed. You saw me out of control. You witnessed a side of me I fight to keep in check. For a long time I believed that there was no way for me to restrain that part of myself. But I now realize that you have changed me. Will you listen?
    She was no longer cold. Two red splotches burned on her cheeks.
    Listen? she wrote, her fingers flying. You killed Brad Oakes. You killed Leather Ed. I’m guessing you killed Brent Safer and Joseph Stein . Turn yourself in and you can get help. You are sick.
    A moment later the computer chimed again, two frail notes:
    Leather Ed died before I got there. I did not kill the movie star or the producer. But if you will talk to me, I will tell you who killed them. Cammie, you can see my mind in what I left behind.
    Her fingers flew as if they were possessed:
    You are a murderer! You are a liar!
    This time the message took longer to receive.
    I came back for you, Cammie. You have to believe me when I say that they will never find me—you have to understand that. It would be easier for everyone if you would do what I am asking you to do. No one else will get hurt. I give you my word. Talking through e-mail is painfully slow, so I’ve set up a chat room for us—the password is An6el1. Meet me there.
    The cold fear was back, spreading through her with a frozen kind of terror. Hurt. She focused on the word. Who would he hurt if she refused him? Faster this time, she wrote:
    What do you mean when you say hurt? Who are you talking about?
    A moment later she heard the malevolent ring. This time the message contained only a single name.
    Justin.
    She stared at the screen. It wasn’t possible. Kyle was still a teenager and Justin was a man armed with a gun, trained by the police in New York. Justin was smarter than anyone she knew. There should be no way Kyle could ever get to him. Her head thrummed all the right words, but something wasn’t connecting inside. It was her heart. The link between her head and her heart had severed like a thread snapped in two.
    What if she was wrong? What if something happened to Justin because of her? With fingers shaking so hard they could barely touch the keys, she curled her palm against her desktop, ready to type. Her mind, though, had gone blank. She looked at the last message and felt the world drop out beneath her. Justin. Because of her Justin might be harmed or worse. The bravado she’d been riding slipped away as she tried to comprehend this unexpected change in the game. The computer chimed again. This time he’d sent a message out of turn.
    Justin. Justin. Justin. Justin. Justin. Justin. Justin. Justin.