Robin had been pushed to the brink as well. Since the first murder rippled through the city, he’d been


    lucky to snatch three hours of sleep each night.


    The murderer was taunting him, the entire police force, and everyone.


    In Robin’s eyes, no matter the murderer’s motives, the fact that they’d snuffed out so many lives meant


    they deserved to die.


    The boy was being taken away, and a wave of unexpected loss hit me as I leaned back. against the


    wall.


    Cory dragged the boy past me. Our eyes met. He opened his mouth as if trying to tell me something.


    I frowned, utterly perplexed by the boy.


    Was he talking to me?


    What was he trying to say?


    Did I…. know the boy?


    “This kid… must’ve been put up to it, right?” I muttered under my breath.


    Robin slumped against the wall and thumped his forehead with limp fists. He looked genuinely


    tormented.


    As long as the murderer remained atrge, people would keep dying, and Robin was wrestling with


    guilt, with self–me.


    “If only… I could’ve been a bit earlier…” Robin muttered restlessly.


    If only he had found Phoebe sooner. The doctor had said even a day earlier could have given Phoebe


    a fighting chance to survive.


    “Bang!”


    His fist collided with the wall, and blood trickled from his knuckles.


    I stepped forward to stop him, but I was at a loss for soothing words.


    Robin turned and made his way to the designated smoking area, lighting up a cigarette.


    Colin and I stood by the entrance, enveloped in silence.


    “Smoke?” Robin offered one to Colin.


    Colin shook his head, “Smoking kills.”


    “Huh…” A bitterugh escaped Robin. “Guess I’ll just have a few more to calm the nerves.” Colin spoke


    again, “If it’s so harmful, why do they even make them? Where’s the source?”


    Where’s the root of this evil?


    Robin’s hand froze mid–light, and he looked up sharply at Colin.


    Colin was reminding him that they’d been on the wrong track from the start.


    The police had been fixated on the murderer and on the victims. But understanding why the murderer


    murdered was the key.


    Since the murderer had stumbled with Melody, they needed to seize this chance, follow the trail, and


    get to the source.


    To get the true source of evil….


    We left the hospital at 4:30 in the morning. Dawn was teasing the horizon, but the world was still


    shrouded in a lingering darkness.


    I hated the pre–dawn gloom. It was lifeless and eerily quiet, breeding an inexplicable panic. Melody had


    been rattled. She had been a nervous wreck until they sedated her.


    From outside her room, I watched her using me of mockery, of enjoying her downfall.


    I was mocking her, reveling in it, but it didn’t sit well with me.


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    I wanted her to suffer the most excruciating pain life could offer, and this was nowhere near enough.


    Exiting the hospital, we stumbled upon a boy of no more than eight or nine. He looked frail with a


    bloody nose that he’d wiped haphazardly across his face.


    “Mister, can I please have my brother back?” the boy approached Robin, pleading through his


    tears.


    Clearly, this was the little brother of the boy who’d been taken away.


    “Please,” he sobbed as blood streamed from his nose. “My brother did it all for me.”


    Robin pulled out some tissues, kneeling to attend to the boy’s nose.


    A female officer hurried over, “Robin, this is the suspect’s brother, who is suffering from leukemia.


    We’ve just checked; both the suspect and this boy are orphans, no one’s adopted them. They’ve been


    living on the streets, surviving mostly through the older boy’s thievery. Robin eyed the boy, his brow


    furrowed, “Your brother… he always made you steal to live?”


    The boy shook his head, “My brother didn’t let me steal.”


    Robin remained silent, his head bowed and no one knew what’s on his mind.


    Perhaps he was pondering the suspect’s hysterical cries of ‘What do you people know? You just stand


    there on your high moral ground!…


    “Take care of him,” Robin told the officer, then stood and walked away.


    I was about to leave when I heard the boy mutter softly beside me, “Miss Foebe Larson…”


    I froze in my tracks. Stunned, I looked down at the boy..


    They really knew me? Foebe Larson?