LEWIS looked at Julian Mercer and finally accepted the truth. Yesterday, Mercer had been lying in a hospital bed, looking weak and tired. Now he was standing in a secret basement with four jars on a shelf, each one holding a human heart. There was no question left in Lewis' mind.
He thought back to when Stevens first told him he knew who the killer was.
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They had left the lab quickly, the conversation cut short the moment Stevens made that claim. Lewis had not questioned him there. He could not do that in front of outsiders.
The moment they reached his car, he turned to him. "What do you mean you know who the killer is?"
Stevens settled into his seat, calm as ever. "The killer is Julian Mercer."
Lewis stared at him. "What?"
"Julian Mercer," Stevens repeated.
"That's not possible," Lewis said, his voice rising. "He's a victim. I found him half-dead. How did you even arrive at that conclusion?"
