“Did he show an interest in gun clubs?” Mason asked. “I’m fishing a bit here, but what about white supremacy or domestic terrorism? We’re looking for anything that could shine some light on how these young men could know each other. And we’re still looking for a motive in all three shootings. People don’t do what these three men did without a motive.”

“I understand you have to ask shit like that,” Bill replied, his voice growing tight. “But I can tell you in all honesty that I’m not aware of anything like that. The police searched his apartment and took his computer. Wouldn’t they have found something there if that was true?”

Ray pointed at the file on his lap and then held up his hands, shaking his head. All clear.

Mason wanted to swear. Joe Albaugh’s apartment had been cleaned out a few weeks after the shooting. He knew the parents had requested some of the items, while Lane County had kept others. A detailed list was in the file. He asked Ray for the list and looked it over while Ray asked Bill about Joe’s hobbies.

There is something here. I feel it.

27

Ava jumped as someone tapped on her window. Zander scowled through the glass.

She’d called him from the hospital parking garage, her voice sounding oddly flat and emotionless in her head as she told him she didn’t know what to do. He’d asked a few questions, rapidly understood her situation, and ordered her not to move until he arrived.

It seemed as if she’d hung up five minutes ago. A glance at her clock told her thirty minutes had ticked by.

I’ve been staring into space for half an hour?

She opened her door. “Where’d you park?”

He took her arm as she stepped out, his mouth in a tight line. “We’re going inside the hospital. Did you find out anything about your sister?”

She blinked at him. “No.”

“You don’t know if your sister is alive or dead?”

“No.”

“Did you call Mason yet?”

“No. I don’t know what to say to him.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “As soon as we find out what’s happened, you call him.”

She nodded and made her feet move toward the hospital doors.

Inside they discovered that Jayne was alive.

Zander asked questions and pressured the clerk at the computer until he found out Jayne’s medical status. It took another twenty minutes for a doctor to have the time to talk to them. The ER physician took a hard look at Ava, clearly comparing her face to that of the woman he’d worked on. “She cut her arms deep enough to severely damage a tendon,” he said. “I’ve requested a specialist to take a look. And there’s a gash on the left side of her lower chest where it appears she may have stabbed herself. We’ll know more after the CT scan. She’ll probably need surgery for both injuries.”

Ava stared at him, thoughts of insurance, rehab, and costs spinning through her brain.

“At the park, the paramedic administered a medication to offset the respiratory depression she’d caused by taking too many narcotics. We’ve had to give her a few more doses.”

“She anesthetized herself,” Ava said. “Nearly to death.”

“Exactly,” the doctor agreed. “Has she attempted suicide before?”

“She’s talked about it several times, but this is the first time she’s harmed herself. She has a history of mental illness.” Ava’s face burned; she felt as if she were betraying her twin. She knew the doctors needed to know; this was not the time for secrets.

The doctor nodded, his gaze never leaving Ava’s face. “Physically she’s going to be fine; she’s stable and out of overdose danger. The next step is to figure out the best treatment for the arms and abdomen. I’ll get a psych evaluation and see if we can get her admitted to the psych department—at least while she’s recovering from surgery. I want her monitored so she doesn’t damage the surgical sites.”

Ava couldn’t speak. He was absolutely right. Jayne couldn’t be trusted about anything—her health or the safety of the people around her. She felt Zander’s hand tighten on her shoulder, and she wanted to crawl in a hole. High levels of sympathy rolled off the men, and she ached to run away.

Where is my spine?

She should have been grateful that people were working to help Jayne; instead she was embarrassed, as if she’d been the one to slash her wrists and create havoc. She forced a confidence she didn’t feel. “I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry,” the doctor said. “You didn’t do this. Clearly your sister needs some help, and I suspect she hasn’t accepted the help in the past?”

“You wouldn’t believe how much help she’s walked away from,” stated Zander.

“Can I see her?” Ava asked.

The doctor paused. “Not yet. Let’s get her tests and evaluations finished. Perhaps later.”

The doctor was called away, and Zander led Ava to an empty waiting room. “You need to call Mason. Now,” he told her with a direct look. “I have my own calls to make.” He held her gaze until she nodded.

Ava sat in a hard chair and listened to the fluorescent lights buzz overhead.

I don’t want to see her.

Shame washed over her, and she slumped in the chair. What good could seeing Jayne do? The doctor said she was out of danger, and she knew Jayne couldn’t care less if Ava appeared. She was getting attention from the doctors and nurses. Ava wouldn’t enter her thoughts until the fuss settled down. Then she’d reach out, seeking sympathy, satisfying her narcissistic urges.