Special Agent Lisa Martinez sat in the FBI command center in Salt Lake City with forty-seven photographs spread across the table in front of her.
All of them were connected to Blake in some way. Crime scenes. Victims. Locations. Patterns.
It had been two weeks since the shooting at the Hyatt Place. Two weeks of surveillance footage analysis, financial record tracing, and the slow accumulation of evidence that Blake was far more dangerous than a spurned academic with a grudge.
"We've got six confirmed murders," Agent Chen said, pointing to the photographs. "Beyond the officer. These are cases across Pennsylvania and New Jersey going back five years. All unsolved. All potentially Blake."
"Why weren't they connected before?" Martinez asked.
"Because they weren't connected," Chen replied. "Different victims, different methods, different locations. No obvious motive. Local police departments had no reason to think they were related. But look at the timeline."
Chen pulled out a spreadsheet. The murders corresponded to Blake's periods of employment with Vincent's Asset Management. Each victim had been robbed of cash or valuables. Each death had been ruled as collateral to the robbery.
"So Blake didn't just turn to robbery when he got out of prison," Martinez said. "He's been a killer for years."
"At minimum," Chen confirmed. "And based on the organization's structure, we believe Vincent knew about these killings and either sanctioned them or ignored them."
Martinez stood up and walked to the window. Below, Salt Lake City was going about its business. People were working, shopping, living their lives unaware that a serial killer was potentially moving through their region.
"Where's Blake now?" Martinez asked.
"Best guess? Philadelphia," Chen said. "His last known sighting was in Philadelphia. But that was four days ago. He could have moved on. He could be anywhere by now."
"No," Martinez said. She turned from the window. "Blake hasn't moved on. Blake is still focused on James Patterson. Everything else is just collateral. Blake is in this region because James is in this region. And Blake is planning something bigger than another isolated attack."
Detective Jacy Perkins was interviewing Frank at an FBI field office in Newark.
Frank was Blake's associate from Vincent's operation—a man in his fifties with scarred knuckles and the careful speech patterns of someone who'd spent time in prison and learned to be cautious about what he said.
"I want immunity," Frank said. "I'll tell you about Vincent's operation, but I want immunity from prosecution."
"That's not my decision," Perkins replied. "But full cooperation usually results in favorable considerations."
Frank nodded. He'd negotiated with law enforcement before. He understood how this worked.
"Blake joined us about six months ago," Frank began. "Vincent found him through contacts. Blake was desperate—just out of prison, no prospects, no money. Vincent offered him work."
"What kind of work?" Perkins asked.
"Surveillance. Planning. Blake was smart. He could look at a location and identify vulnerabilities. He could watch people and predict their behavior. Vincent used him for the pharmaceutical company job we were planning in New Jersey."
"But Blake did more than just plan," Perkins said. "Blake killed people."
Frank was quiet for a moment. "Blake killed people on his own time. Vincent didn't order it. But Vincent also didn't stop it. In our world, you don't ask too many questions about what your colleagues do on their own time."
"And Blake's obsession with James Patterson?" Perkins asked. "Did Vincent know about that?"
"Of course," Frank said. "Blake told Vincent everything. Blake said he was going to kill this man once he accumulated enough money. Vincent told him it was a stupid idea but didn't try to stop him."
"Did Vincent give Blake money? Resources? Help?" Perkins pressed.
"Not directly," Frank said. "But Vincent let Blake work for six months knowing Blake's endgame was murder. That's implicit support."
Perkins made notes. This was useful information but it was also complicated legally. Without explicit orders, it would be hard to charge Vincent with conspiracy.
"Where is Vincent now?" Perkins asked.
"I don't know," Frank said. "Vincent disappeared two days after the Provo shooting. He knew law enforcement would be connecting Blake to the operation. Vincent is smart. Vincent planned for contingency."
Martinez received the report about Frank's interrogation by email.
She read through it twice, analyzing the implications. Blake wasn't just acting on his own. Blake had been part of an organized criminal network. Blake had access to resources, training, and mentorship in how to commit crimes and evade law enforcement.
This meant Blake was more capable than a simple revenge killer. This meant Blake understood how to hide, how to move, how to plan systematically.
This also meant that Vincent might still be protecting Blake—or at least not actively helping law enforcement find him.
Martinez called Detective Perkins.
"I want to bring Vincent in for questioning," Martinez said. "Even if he's not directly helping Blake, his decision to hide is itself obstruction of justice."
"We're already looking for him," Perkins said. "But Vincent is good at disappearing. He's had decades to perfect his exit strategy."
"Then find his exit strategy," Martinez replied. "Where would Vincent go if he needed to disappear? What resources does he have? Who would help him?"
After the call, Martinez pulled up everything they had on Vincent. The man's actual identity was obscured—multiple aliases, multiple documented deaths, multiple relocations. He was a ghost with a physical body.
But ghosts leave traces. Everyone leaves traces. Martinez just had to find them.
James was in the FBI safe house when Martinez called to brief him on the developments.
"Blake isn't working alone," Martinez told him. "He's connected to a criminal organization. He's potentially been killing people for years."
James absorbed this slowly. "So this wasn't just about me. Blake has been a murderer."
"Yes," Martinez confirmed. "The question now is: what is Blake's current intent? Is he still focused on you or has he expanded his targets?"
"He's focused on me," James said with certainty. "Everything else is just a means to that end."
"How can you be sure?" Martinez asked.
"Because I know Blake," James said. "I know that he's the kind of person who can only maintain focus on one thing. He got obsessed with me because I rejected his research and won his romantic rival. That obsession has been his only anchor point. If Blake lost that obsession, he would completely collapse."
Martinez considered this. It matched what Emily Washburn had told her about Blake's psychology—that Blake needed external validation and couldn't function without it.
"We're setting up a situation where we flush him out," Martinez said. "It's going to require your cooperation and your willingness to put yourself in a controlled vulnerable position."
"Okay," James said. "Tell me what you need."
By the end of the day, Martinez had briefed her team on the plan.
They would create a public event where James would appear. It would be framed as a professional opportunity—a conference or a seminar that would draw media attention. They would announce it publicly so Blake could see it.
Then they would set up surveillance around the event. They would position tactical teams. They would be ready to move when Blake appeared.
"The danger is that Blake will bring weapons or explosives," Chen warned. "If Blake has realized he's going back to prison, he might decide to take as many people as possible with him."
"Then we prepare for that," Martinez said. "We scan for weapons. We require metal detection. We secure the perimeter."
"It's still risky," Chen said. "Blake is unpredictable."
"Blake is desperate," Martinez replied. "Desperate people make mistakes. That's our advantage."
Word came through that night: they'd found Vincent.
Vincent was attempting to leave the country through Miami airport. He'd been flagged by TSA security and was currently in FBI custody.
Martinez and Perkins flew to Miami to conduct the interrogation.
Vincent sat across from them in a windowless interrogation room, looking exactly like what he was: a man who'd lived in the margins of society for so long that conventional reality no longer applied to him.
"Where's Blake?" Martinez asked.
"I don't know," Vincent replied.
"Blake worked for you for six months. He killed people while in your employ. And now he's a fugitive who tried to murder a man in broad daylight. You helped create this situation."
"I didn't help create anything," Vincent said calmly. "Blake created his own situation. I simply provided him with work and didn't ask questions about what he did outside of work."
"That's conspiracy," Perkins said.
"That's a matter of legal interpretation," Vincent replied. "I never ordered Blake to kill anyone. I never provided him with funds specifically for murder. I never gave him information to locate his target."
Martinez leaned back. Vincent was right, legally. Without explicit conspiracy charges, they couldn't hold him on much. But they could make his life very difficult.
"We're going to freeze your assets," Martinez said. "We're going to investigate every connection you have. We're going to make it nearly impossible for you to operate."
"That's your right," Vincent said. "But it won't help you find Blake."
"Then help us," Martinez said. "Blake is going to hurt more people. You know Blake. You understand him. Help us find him before he kills again."
Vincent was quiet for a long moment. Then he said: "Blake is in Philadelphia. He's in a motel room watching Sarah Martinez. Blake has decided that the only way to reach James is through the people James cares about. Blake is going to hurt someone close to James to force James into a vulnerable position."
"Which motel?" Martinez demanded.
Vincent gave her an address.
Within two hours, an FBI tactical team was moving on the Philadelphia motel.
They found Blake's room empty. The motel clerk confirmed that Blake had been there but had checked out that morning. He'd paid cash for multiple nights but had left suddenly.
On the bed, they found notebooks filled with surveillance documentation of Sarah Martinez. Maps with her movements marked. Analysis of her vulnerabilities.
On the wall, someone had written in pencil: "I understand now what I've become. I don't know how to stop."
Martinez looked at those words and understood something crucial: Blake was approaching the end of his own story. Blake was moving toward a final confrontation—either with James or with law enforcement or with himself.
And Blake knew it was coming.