Will's rationality came back to him by the time he had stuffed the note in an envelope with a fake name and return address. Charlie wouldn't let this lie.
If he knew that he hadn't gotten to complete his final kill the way he wanted because of the love of a seven-year-old boy, he would be furious. Perhaps furious enough to tell people that his son was alive and had married the daughter of his final victims.
That sort of thing was what those serial-killer-obsessed nuts ate up with a spoon. Hazel would know the truth and he would never have another moment of peace.
He ripped up the letter and, to be safe, burned the pieces. He didn't smoke but had gotten in the habit of carrying a lighter during his days in the smuggling ring. You never knew when you needed to get rid of evidence.
With a sigh, he slumped over and rested his head on the table. At this point trying to continue to work was useless. He may as well pretend to be sick and go home.
