“I knew the police would want to talk to me someday,” he said. “So Scanlon did it again. Didn’t he?”“We believe so,” said Jane.“A monster like that, he doesn’t just call it quits one day. He keeps going and going, cutting down lives.” Harry stepped aside to let them enter. “Come in, Detectives. Tell me how I can help you take the bastard down.”It was an older home, and Jane could smell its age as she walked into the living room, the accumulated odors of dust and mildew and worn carpets. The first thing that caught her eye was the array of photographs on the wall, images of what looked like the same dark-haired girl through the years. As a child, sitting in a swing. As a teenager in her graduation cap and gown. As a young woman hugging a smiling man. Jane was startled to recognize Harry O’Brien in the face of that man in the photo—a younger, happier version of the bitter man now standing in the room with them.“Kitty had so much to give to the world,” he said, staring at his daughter’s photo.
