Free Killer Within by S.E. Green Page A

kitchen. “I finally cleared out your mom’s personal things from her locker. I’m bringing the box home tomorrow. I want all of us to go through and decide what we do and don’t want to keep. Plan on that. Okay? Next I want to do the whole house.”
    I nod. “Absolutely.”
    “Dr. Depof recommended it,” he rationalizes, like he thinks it might bother me.
    It doesn’t.
    I’ve already combed through her stuff here, but I definitely want to see what she kept in her office. She was certainly sneaky enough to hide something right within the walls of the FBI, knowing no one would think to look there. Frankly, she would have gotten off on it.
    Gramps settles down in front of the TV, simultaneously reading the newspaper, and sometime later says, “Who is this Masked Savior person?”
    I bring my head up from the pot I’m scrubbing to see him staring at the TV. The reporter is going on about the local task force, the vigilante acts, if anyone has any information, and on and on.
    “Huh,” Gramps grunts. “Seems to me this guy is doing everyone a favor around here.”
    What do you know, maybe ol’ Gramps and I have found common ground.
    The reporter ends with “. . . and although the chief hasn’t specified, an inside source confirms there has been a big break in the case as to the true identity of the Masked Savior.”
    Big break? Well, damn, what the hell would that be? Clearly, they must not think the Masked Savior and Aisha are one and the same and already behind bars. So what am I missing?

Chapter Seventeen
    I WORK MY PATCH AND Paw shift, and unfortunately “I’m” all anyone can talk about. Masked Savior this and Masked Savior that. It’s annoying. When Dr. Issa starts in, I give up, grab Corn Chip, and go outside.
    “You okay?” Dr. Issa asks some thirty minutes later.
    No, I’m not okay. I’ve created a monster of a problem with this copycat of mine, and I have no clue how to make it go away.
    On top of that there’s supposedly a “big break” as to my identity.
    Worst-case scenario: The cops somehow know it’s me. I just don’t see how that’s possible, though. I’m always so careful. Plus, they would’ve arrested me by now.
    Best-case scenario: They’ll find my copycat, the Masked Savior website will go away, and I can resume my life.
    “Lane, you okay?” Dr. Issa repeats.
    I nod. “Just thinking about this Savior character. What’s your take on it?”
    “Good versus evil versus ridiculous.”
    I turn from Corn Chip to look at him. “Interesting analysis.”
    “That teen prostitute,” he elaborates, “sure she made some bad choices, but did she deserve to be beaten? No. That’s the evil side of this guy.”
    I agree.
    “Then there’s that rapist and that guy who tortured animals—that’s the good side of this guy. They deserved what they got.”
    I agree. The Weasel and Marco, both done before Mom died. “And the ridiculous?”
    “Shaving that girl’s head. Ridiculous. Seemingly juvenile, if you ask me, and beneath our guy’s abilities.”
    Again, agree. Something I did after Mom.
    “Either our hero is confused with his game plan, or he has a split personality.”
    The side door opens, and the receptionist sticks her head out. “Lane, there’s a guy here to see you.”
    That’s odd. “Okay.” I toss the ball back to Corn Chip, don’t look at Dr. Issa, and head straight out to the parking lot to findTommy standing next to his bike holding his helmet. My stomach muscles twitch.
    He doesn’t smile. “Hey.”
    “How did you know I work here?”
    “I ride by here a lot on my way to school. I caught sight of your Jeep and decided to stop.”
    I wait for whatever it is he wants.
    “I’m sorry about the other night. I get crazy sometimes. Ever since my sister died, I’ve been lost, looking for something, anything to make me feel again. Sometimes I find it, but then it’s gone. I know what I did was stupid. Hell, I knew it as I was doing it, but I can’t seem to