‘Look, I’m sorry, but we didn’t have a choice.’ He explained to her how he had received the message, and it seemed to placate her a little. ‘Do you know this guy? This Adder?’

‘No. I’ve never heard of the guy before.’

‘Well, I don’t like it.’

‘It’s no big deal, Dad. You get tons of people sending you messages all the time and requesting to be your friend. I only add the people I know.’

Striker still wasn’t happy with the situation. ‘You had your security levels set to minimum, so anyone there could see your pictures.’

‘So?’

‘So I’m on there. And whoever looks at those photos can connect me to you – I don’t want you exposed like that.’

She let out a soft laugh. ‘After what happened last year, everyone knows you’re my dad.’

Striker nodded as he thought that over. In last year’s case, both of their pictures had been plastered all over the internet, on TV, and in the papers. It had been a full-blown media nightmare. Something few people in this city were likely to forget.

‘Maybe so,’ he finally said. ‘But there’s no point in making it any easier for them. When this is all done, I want you to remove my photos from your site and keep your privacy settings at maximum.’

‘Dad—’

‘I mean it.’

‘Oh my God, fine – but you’re being paranoid.’

‘You’re sixteen years old and I’m your father – it’s my job to be paranoid. Besides, you would be, too, if you knew how many creeps are out there.’

‘Like I said, paranoid.’

‘What time is it anyway – shouldn’t you be on your way to school right now?’

‘It’s a professional day.’

‘Like last week?’

When she didn’t answer, Striker forced a laugh, but the tension never left his chest. He reminded Courtney not to touch the computer, to get her ass to school, and to make sure she was on time for her occupational therapy appointment. Then he said goodbye. When he hung up and returned to the car, Felicia had already finished reading the report.

‘Well?’ he asked. The waiting was eating away at his patience.

She brushed her long dark hair out of her eyes and sighed. ‘It’s all here in black and white, Jacob. Larisa had a total breakdown.’

‘How? Why?’

‘There was a motor vehicle accident,’ Felicia said. ‘Both her parents and her sister were killed in the crash – their car skidded on the ice and went into the oncoming lane. Happened two days before Christmas.’

‘The poor girl,’ he said.

Felicia met his stare. ‘It gets worse. Her younger sister was burned badly as a result, and held on for nearly three weeks before succumbing to her injuries. Third-degree burns to eighty per cent of her body.’

Striker thought this over and felt so bad for Larisa. ‘No wonder she broke down. So much grief. All three of them.’

‘Not just grief. Guilt.’

‘Guilt?’

‘Larisa was the one driving the car. And she escaped without so much as a scratch. CIU said it was a miracle she lived, much less escaped unharmed.’

CIU. The Collision Investigation Unit.

Striker let this thought settle in, and he felt a tightness spread all through his core. Such a tragedy. He looked over at Felicia. ‘Please tell me she wasn’t drinking and driving.’

‘Not a drop. Stone-cold sober.’

‘Thank God.’

‘But the report does say that speed was a factor. Larisa was driving too fast for the road conditions. It was wintertime, after all. Icy out. And dark. Happened around eleven o’clock at night, after she’d already worked a long shift.’

‘She fall asleep?’

‘No one knows – not even Larisa. She couldn’t recall anything about the accident. Who knows, maybe that was the beginning of her breakdown.’

‘I’ll bet it was. Let me see that.’

Striker took the bundle of papers. The words were harsh and it felt like he was being sucked into a real-life nightmare. It was all there, police statement after police statement. Ambulance crew reports. Medical reports. The file was thick. And at the end was an addendum from the assistant to the police psychologist.

The name was Richter, and at the top of the page was a stylized MVC:

Mapleview Clinic.

‘There it is again,’ Striker said. ‘Dr Richter. That’s the same doctor that gave the prescription to Mandy Gill. That message Larisa left might not be entirely off the mark. She might actually have known Mandy then. The connection is there.’

Felicia shrugged. ‘That’s not too surprising. The police psychiatrists and psychologists deal with all sorts of mental health problems. And both Mandy Gill and Larisa Logan suffered from depression. They might have met through the counselling sessions at the clinic.’

Striker nodded. ‘It just seems awfully coincidental to me. I mean, what are the odds? Mandy Gill is our first file, and we know from her medication that she was given prescriptions by Dr Richter at Mapleview Clinic. Then this whole thing with Larisa goes down, and she was seeing Dr Richter, too.’

‘It’s not odd,’ Felicia said. ‘In fact, it’s quite the opposite – it makes perfect sense. It’s not that they both needed the police because they went to Mapleview; it’s that they had mental health problems that Mapleview was dealing with, and those same mental health problems were what brought them police attention.’

Striker said nothing back, he just thought things over.

‘The message from Larisa,’ he finally said. ‘She said she knew Mandy had been murdered.’

‘And once again, her message came after we’d been seen on TV; she probably saw us, right? Just like you said about the message from this Adder loon. He saw us on TV after the incident occurred, and then reacted. It’s standard.’

Striker thought over her logic; she was right about that. And for the first time, he wondered: was his connection to Larisa clouding his judgement?

‘Read through the police psychologist report,’ Felicia continued. ‘It also says that Larisa suffered from paranoia. Some of the medications she was on were to counter that.’ She reached out and touched his arm. ‘I know you don’t like to think this, Jacob, but Larisa isn’t the same person you remember. Seeing her family killed like that, it obviously put her over the edge. She had a breakdown. The woman is sick.’

Striker nodded. ‘I won’t deny that. But just because she’s sick doesn’t mean she doesn’t know something. She might have evidence on Mandy’s death – it is possible – and if that’s the case, then we need to know what. Keep reading through the files. Run every alias and associate the woman has. See if you can find a connection somewhere. Nothing is too small.’

Felicia let out a tired sound, as if she was sick of reviewing the same reports over and over again, but did as requested. Meanwhile, Striker got the phone number of Dr Richter from the details page and called it. The phone rang once then went straight to a standard pre-recorded computer greeting: The person you are trying to contact is not available . . .

Striker waited for the beep, then left a message, telling the doctor who he was and that he needed to speak to him about a particular patient. When he finally hung up, Felicia was also finishing reading the reports. She made a hmm sound.

Striker looked over. ‘What do you mean, hmm?’

‘There was an actual CAD call created for Larisa’s place, just this morning.’

‘This morning, or yesterday morning?’

Felicia looked up. ‘This morning.’ She read through the call. ‘It was made by Car 87. Bernard Hamilton. So not only did they run her but they went right out there to Larisa’s place.’

‘They actually attended the residence?’

‘Yeah, they’re listed as On Scene.’ Felicia scanned the call. ‘The narrative is basically a shell. There’s no information in it. Just a time arriving on scene and then clearing.’

‘What kind of call was it?’

‘A Check Well-Being.’