Elisabeth's POV
Something had clicked into place between Jefferson and me, or so I thought. We seemed to understand each other better, but apparently that understanding didn't extend to letting me participate in solving murder conspiracies. Staring at the computer screen, everything suddenly made sense. The pattern was there, clear as day. I knew who the next victim would be.
The challenge would be getting Jefferson to listen. He'd dismissed my theory with a casual promise to "look into it." But I wasn't throwing out random guesses. Years of my parents drilling me on pack politics had given me knowledge I never thought I'd need. All those lessons I'd resented were suddenly crucial.
