THE CABIN
The trailhead was at the edge of the park, surrounded by towering pines and the sound of the ocean.
Maya stood at the entrance, looking into the dark.
Torres stood beside her, his hand on his gun.
“We should wait for backup.”
“He won’t wait. He’ll run.”
“Or he’ll kill you.”
“He could have killed me a dozen times already. He didn’t. He wants something else.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I need to find out.”
She walked into the trees.
The trail was narrow and dark. Her phone light cut through the shadows. Torres followed a few paces behind, his footsteps silent.
They walked for twenty minutes.
Then Maya saw a light.
A cabin. Small. Remote. Smoke rising from the chimney.
“He’s there,” she whispered.
Torres raised his radio.
Maya touched his arm.
“Let me go first.”
“Maya—”
“Please.”
He lowered the radio.
She walked toward the cabin.
The door was unlocked.
She pushed it open.
Inside, a fire burned in the hearth.
And Vance sat in a chair, waiting.
“Hello, Maya. I was wondering when you’d get here.”
THE CONFRONTATION
The cabin was warm. The fire crackled. Vance sat in a wooden chair, his hands folded in his lap, his silver hair catching the light. He looked calm. Peaceful, even.
Maya stood in the doorway. Her heart was pounding. Her hands were steady.
“You knew I would come.”
“I hoped you would.”
“The FBI is outside. You’re surrounded.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Vance smiled. It was the same gentle smile he had used on his patients. The same smile he had used on her.
“Because I wanted to see you. One last time.”
Maya stepped closer. “You’ve killed four women that we know of. Probably more. Why?”
“I didn’t kill anyone. I helped them find peace.”
“You manipulated them. You pushed them toward death.”
“I listened to them. I heard their pain. I gave them permission to let go.”
“They didn’t want to die. You made them think they did.”
Vance tilted his head. “How do you know what they wanted?”
“Because I talked to their families. Their friends. The people who loved them. None of them believed it was suicide. None of them believed their daughters, their sisters, their best friends would just… jump.”
“People hide their pain.”
“Not from everyone. Not from the people who know them best.”
Vance was silent.
Maya sat down across from him. “I’ve been chasing you for months. I’ve been shot at, burned, thrown off a bridge. I’ve lost sleep. Lost weight. Almost lost my daughter. And through all of it, I kept asking myself one question.”
“What?”
“Why? Why did you do it? What did you get out of it?”
Vance looked at the fire.
“Control,” he said quietly. “For the first time in my life, I was in control. Of their thoughts. Their dreams. Their deaths. It was… intoxicating.”
Maya’s stomach turned.
“You’re sick.”
“I’m human. There’s a difference.”
“No. There’s not. That’s what you never understood.”
She stood up.
“The FBI is going to come through that door in about two minutes. They’re going to arrest you. You’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison. And I’m going to watch.”
Vance looked at her.
“You’re not going to give me a chance to explain?”
“I’ve heard enough.”
She walked to the door.
Opened it.
Torres was standing outside, his gun drawn.
“He’s all yours.”