Chapter 20. The Answer

Wren POV

He didn't explain on the ice.

He sat down on the bench, unlaced his skates with hands that weren't quite steady, pulled on his boots and said, "Not here. Come with me."

I almost laughed. It came out as a breath.

That's what every serial killer says.

He stopped with one boot half-laced and looked at me. For a second, the rage cracked, and something like the ghost of a smile showed through.

"The considerate ones do," he said.

He'd remembered. Our second text. The first time I'd ever been funny to him.

I followed him out the back door of the rink, across the empty lot and down a narrow path to where the trees started. Not far. Still in sight of the building. He stopped in a small clearing where the morning light came down through the pines in long gold stripes, and turned around to face me.

"I'm going to tell you what I can," he said. "Some thing