Chapter 10 THE SEVENTH
\[ARIA POV\]
As soon as I open my eyes, there’s the crane.
By the coffee machine. It's white - looks nice. Over there.
I guess I just didn't see it last night.
It’s morning now - Ethan’s up as well. Water trickles in the bathroom, while his soap scent drifts out. Sounds and smells fill the air since he started moving.
I grab the crane, take a closer look.
The edges are clean, no shaky lines. Could he have done this while I dozed off?
Maybe he's had this all along - just holding out for the right time? Feels like forever to finally track it down.
I set it down once more.
My phone vibrates.
I got some words here.
Call me. Now.
It’s Marcus.
I step outside, shutting the door behind me. The city spreads out below - cars crawling through streets while a distant alarm blares now and then.
He answers.
"We got another one."
I shut my eyes.
"Where?"
"Westside. Coffee shop on Palmer Street. You know it?"
I do.
My hands feel icy.
"Aria? You there?"
"Yeah. I'm here."
"Victim's a young woman. Early twenties. Works—worked—at the counter. Same MO. Bird and everything."
Emma.
Her name's Emma.
She never forgets what I like - extra cream, minus the sugar.
She wanted to know last week if I was using alright - mentioned I seemed worn out.
I said I was okay.
"Aria?"
"When?"
"Last night. Between closing and this morning. The owner was under her when he came in to open up."
Last night.
Ethan was at home. Was he not?
I try to recall - then imagine it instead
I got back home about eight. While he was in the kitchen, cooking dinner.
We ate. Then we chatted. He was asked how my day went.
After that, I headed off to sleep.
And he kept going through the night.
Saisaid he wanted to finish a chapter.
"Aria, you coming in or what?"
"Yeah. I'll be there in twenty."
I hang up.
Stay out there on the balcony. Just looking at empty space.
Emma.
He killed Emma.
Since I chat with her. On account of her being part of my daily flow. Seeing as she checked in to see how I’m doing.
He’s spausingpausing’te
I head back in.
Ethan’s just stepped out of the shower. Now he’s in the kitchen, pausing in his step. A coffee cup rests between his palms. Jeans cling to him, along with a plain t-shirt. His hair? Still wet from earlier.
He grins whenever I show up
"Morning. You want breakfast?"
"No. I got called in."
"Another one?"
I look at his face when I tell him that.
"Yeah. Another one."
He doesn’t back down. Yet he keeps staring. Still holds his ground. While tension builds up.
Just sips his coffee, then pauses.
"Same area?"
"Westside."
"That's close."
"Yeah."
He puts the cup down. Then moves toward me.
"You okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine."
His hand brushes my face. It feels warm.
"You sure?"
I pull back.
"I have to go."
He lets me go. Just stands there while I snatch my coat plus head out.
"Stay out of trouble," he adds
I don't answer.
The café’s closed once I arrive.
Two squad cars up ahead. Behind them, a forensics van sits in the side street. Folks start showing up along the pavement. Some are snapping photos using their mobiles
Marcus hangs near the entrance. When he spots me, he moves closer - right away.
"You look worse than usual."
"Thanks."
"I'm serious. You okay?"
"I'm fine. Let me see the scene."
He takes me in.
The place is tiny. Just six tables inside. Behind a counter, there’s a cash machine along with a glass cabinet. You can still catch the scent of coffee floating around.
Emma’s at the back. Inside the storage room.
Just like everyone else.
Hands crossed. Neck slashed - a bird resting on her chest.
This time it’s not like the others.
This one? Already clear
I drop to my knees next to her - there’s a pop in my joints.
She’s got on that apron again - the one she never swaps out. Her tag’s still stuck there, just like always. Emma. A little grin sketched beside the letters.
I reach out - then pause, Marcus, back before my fingers meet her skin.
"You know her?" Marcus asks.
I nod.
"She worked here. I came in every morning."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"That's twice now. Victim four was that blogger. Now this. Both connected to you."
I stay quiet.
"Aria, this guy's targeting people in your life."
"I know."
"So what do we do?"
"I don't know."
I get on my feet. Then I check what’s around me.
No sign of a fight. Not even scratches on her hands. She trusted him enough to come near.
Because she trusted him.
Maybe 'cause he acted so smooth she never noticed what was about to happen.
"Anyone see what happened?" I say
"None. The owner says the shop closed at nine. She would've been all about outside cameras in the back room."
"What aboutthe outside?"
"Street cctv caught someone leaving around ten. But it's too dark to make out a face. Just a figure. Average height. Dark jacket."
I wonder about Ethan - medium build. His coat’s on the doff arker side, though it fits just right.
Sure, plenty of others around here do that too.
"Anything else?"
Marcus grabs his phone. Then shows me a picture.
"This was on the counter."
It's just a napkin. Plain white one. Folded like a crane.
Different from the one she had up top. This version’s tinier - rougher around the edges.
Like it came together fast. But still works just fine.
"He took two?" I say
"Looks like it."
I look at the picture.
Two birds.
One for her. Also one for me.
I hang around for a while longer. Then I keep moving through it all slowly. Jotting things down along the way. Pausing now and then to wonder out loud.
Yet I’m not actually present.
I'm wonderin' 'bout Ethan.
That crane on the shelf earlier today.
About how he grinned when I mentioned another victim was found - sort of a cold reaction, really.
About why he figured it out before I said anything.
My phone buzzes.
Text from him.
Hey, how are things? Maybe I could grab you something to eat?
I look at the screen.
He knows my location. Because he’s been watching me closely.
He’s wondering whether I’d like some lunch.
I reply:Theredoing fine. Thanks anyway.
Three dots appear.
Okay. Just say so if you decide differently. Love you.
I secure my device.
Slide it into my pocket beside the pen.
The pen was there - left behind when he hit the first crime spot.
The pen I've had on me, as if it might whisper something one day.
It already has.
He’s saying he knows how to reach people.
Even folks I bump into daily
Some folks still check in on me - yet they don't really stay. Others just pass by while pretending to care.
Marcus drives me back to the precinct.
We never chat. Besides, he gets that I’m feeling off
As we roll into the spot, he blurts it out, "You need to tell meone."
"Tell them what?"
"Whatever you're holding back."
I glanced his way.
"I'm not holding anything back."
"Aria."
"I'm not."
He looks at me. After that, he raises his head.
"Alright. But when this blows up, don't say I didn't warn you."
He steps out of the vehicle.
I stay there a moment - just me. By myself.
Then I pull out my phone.
Open my photos.
Go back three weeks. There he is - Ethan, sitting at his desk. A pile of folded paper cranes sits beside him
Six cranes. Six victims.
Now seven.
I shut the pic.
Open my texts.
Type: Let's chat.
Stare at it a while - don't look away just yet.
Then delete it.
Step out of the vehicle.
Go inside.
Pretend everything's fine.