What’s your name, girl? she wondered. Mary, Maxine, Mona? If only I’d gotten a second or third letter. Had M. Jane Doe been a runaway? Kidnapped? She knew the girl’s fingerprints had been taken when she’d arrived at the hospital. The nurses had confirmed that much. But so far M. Doe’s identity was still a mystery.

Is someone waiting for you, M? She’d asked for her mom, just before she’d been placed in the helicopter, so she had at least one parent who, one hoped, loved her.

Susannah brought up the Web site for missing children and searched the database for girls. There were hundreds and hundreds. She narrowed the search to those whose names began with M. Now there were fewer than fifty. She studied every face with a heavy heart. Every girl on the screen was gone.

No matter how bad it had been at home, she’d never been taken away. At least not for longer than the one night Simon and his friends had… raped me. It was still no easier to say, even in her own mind. She wondered if it ever would be.

She got to the end of the pictures and sighed. M. Jane Doe was not listed. Most of the girls listed in the database were classified as “endangered runaways,” and runaways weren’t investigated in the same way abducted teens might be. It was sad, but in a world of strained budgets and overworked resources, it was reality.

She wondered if M. Jane Doe had been a runaway, endangered or otherwise. There were online clearinghouses for teen runaways. Some of them had photos. She brought up a Web site for runaways and sighed again. Lots of photos. All individually listed. There would be no searching based on age or gender or names that began with the letter M. She settled back and began opening each photo file, one at a time.

It was going to be a long night.

Charlotte , North Carolina , Saturday, February 3, 3:15 a.m.

Rocky slowed as she pulled into the parking lot, grateful for her nearly photographic memory. She hadn’t wanted to go back to Ridgefield House to check her notes. She hadn’t wanted to face Bobby. Not until I’ve fixed this. Luckily she was able to remember the facts on all the girls she’d lured from their beds during the past eighteen months.

Tonight’s prey would serve a dual purpose-she’d give Bobby a new blonde and she’d ensure Monica Cassidy’s silence, until the girl could be moved out of the heavily guarded ICU, at which point Rocky would make the nurse kill her.

She wasn’t sure how she’d do that, but she’d cross that bridge when she got there.

She’d made good time, but the four-hour drive had left her no more prepared to do this thing alone. She released her grip on the steering wheel to check her pocket. Her gun was still there, of course. But it was reassuring to know for sure.

Don’t be stupid. You’ve done this before. But not alone. Twice she’d accompanied Mansfield on pickups, but he’d done all the work. Rocky had simply navigated the drive.

Tonight she went solo. Oh, God, there she is. A teenaged girl had inched her way out of the shadows and stood waiting. This is it. Don’t fuck it up now.

Ridgefield House, Saturday, February 3, 3:15 a.m.

The ringing of the phone pulled Bobby from sleep. A few blinks had the caller ID coming into focus. Paul. “Yeah? Where the hell are you?”

“In the parking lot of an all-night diner in Charlotte, North Carolina.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s where Rocky stopped. She’s sitting in her car, headlights off. Wait. Somebody’s coming.”

“Can they see you?”

He made a scoffing sound. “You know better than that. Nobody sees me that I don’t want to see me. It’s a girl, about fifteen. She’s coming toward Rocky’s car.”

“Is she a blonde?”

“What?”

“Is she a blonde?” Bobby carefully enunciated each word.

“Yeah. Looks like it.”

Bobby yawned. “Then it’s business. Rocky said she had a few blondes ready to harvest. I told her I’d arrange for pickup, but it looks like she’s trying to make amends. I wish she’d followed my instructions on the nurse. I’ll deal with her when she returns.”

“Then I just turn around and go home?”

“Turn around, but don’t go home. I need one more job.”

Paul sighed. “Bobby. I’m tired.”

“Don’t whine. I need a body found tomorrow morning.”

“Anybody I know?” Paul asked dryly.

“Yeah, the nurse’s sister. I need it to look like she fought off a mugger. But make sure she’s found. I’ve sent the sister’s address and photo to your hotmail account. She should be leaving her house around eight. Be there a little early. Make it hurt.”

“So Bobby takes the gloves off,” Paul said, amusement lacing his tone.

“Absolutely. I always keep my promises. The nurse will be far more willing to follow my instructions in the future. So how is Rocky doing with the blonde in the parking lot?”

“Not bad. The girl struggled a little, but your kid wonder was prepared. Looks like she knocked her out. She’s got a great right hook. No wonder you call her Rocky.”

Bobby laughed softly. “No, that’s not why. Thanks, Paul, I’ll make sure you’re paid well for this evening.”

“Always a pleasure, Bobby.”

“Text me when the sister’s dead. I have a special delivery for the nurse.”

Atlanta , Saturday, February 3, 4:30 a.m.

Luke’s brother Leo brought his car to a stop outside the gated GBI lot. “We’re here.”

Luke opened his eyes, refreshed by the brief rest. He gave his ID to Leo, who slid it through the card reader, sending the gate silently upward. “Thanks for driving me to get my car, man.”

Leo shrugged. “I wasn’t doing anything else.”

Luke grunted as he sat upright, working the kinks from his neck. “That’s sad, Leo.”

“Ain’t it though?” Leo studied him, eyes worried. “Are you all right?”

“I’m here.” He wasn’t going to lie to Leo. He couldn’t if he tried.

“Well, at least you don’t smell like a dog that’s been rolling in rotten fish anymore.”

“There is that. I appreciate the breakfast.” Luke had been unsurprised when Leo had silently materialized from the shadows of his living room as soon as Luke had let himself into his apartment. Leo had seen Chase’s press conference and knew Luke would come home sometime, tired and hungry. Leo was good about anticipating the needs of others. Luke wished his brother was as good about taking care of himself.

“You’re lucky. Those two eggs were the only thing in your fridge that were edible.”

“I haven’t been to the grocery in a while.” Not since his Internet Crimes unit had picked up the scent of those three kids for whom they’d been too late last Tuesday. “I think the milk’s expired, too.”

“It’s solidified. I’ll run by and get you some bread and milk when I take your suit over to Johnny’s later today. He’s getting good at salvaging your clothes.”

That their cousin Johnny had his own dry-cleaning business was both a bane and boon. “Tell him to go light on the starch on my shirt, okay? Last one was so stiff it almost rubbed the skin off my neck.”

Leo smirked. “He did that on purpose.”

“I know.” He needed to move, but his body wasn’t cooperating. “I’m so tired, Leo.”

“I know,” Leo said quietly, and Luke knew his brother understood it was more than physical fatigue.

“Those girls could be anywhere. God only knows what they’ve had done to them.”

“You can’t think like that,” Leo said brusquely. “You can’t think of them as Stacie and Min. So stop it.”

As he had been. Luke pushed the pictures of his sister Demi’s pretty, smiling, teenaged daughters from his mind. “I know, I know. Eyes on the goal. It’s just that…”

“You’re human,” Leo said quietly. “You see their faces. And it eats you up.”

And a little more of you dies each day. How right Susannah Vartanian had been. “It’s like a sea of faces. They’re always there. Some days I think I’m losing my mind.”