“You’re sure this is everything?” Rick looked up at Denver. He’d just gone through the contents of the three boxes of evidence that they’d lugged in from the department’s storage room at the end of the hall, where they’d been since being moved from the garage of the former chief of police when the new municipal building was dedicated. “These are the only boxes?”

“That’s all we have. Three boxes. I can vouch for that myself. All we ever had.”

“Any chance that another box of evidence was left in the garage when this stuff was moved here? A smaller box, maybe, that could have been overlooked?”

“No. I was one of the officers who cleaned out the chief’s garage after he died and brought the files here and put them in the storage room. I can tell you, every speck of evidence that was put in there came back out. The room is always locked, and Phyllis has the only key. You want something, you have to ask her for it, like we had to do.”

“The chief… what was his name?”

“Wainwright.”

“How was it that all your evidence boxes found their way into Chief Wainwright’s garage, anyway?”

“No other place to store the stuff. The old station was only three small rooms.” Denver shrugged. “Didn’t seem like a big deal back then. We didn’t think about things like chain of control or evidence being tampered with. We didn’t have anyplace else to store the old files, so when he built that big new garage, we took over part of it. Besides, it was a solved case. We had our man. He’d been tried and convicted. You can say what you want now, Agent Cisco, but that jury was convinced. There was no damned reason to think that anyone other than Wayne Fulmer was involved. I’m still not certain there is now.”

“Let’s both keep an open mind, Chief. I’ll allow that the evidence was pretty solid against Wayne and you’ll allow that maybe things weren’t what they seemed at the time. Now, what did Chief Wainwright keep in the other part of the garage?”

“He had an old car he was working on. Restoring. Don’t remember what it was, frankly.”

“So anyone could have gone into the garage and gone through the boxes?”

Denver frowned. “Not likely. Wainwright’s property was all fenced in back there. Top of that, he had the biggest, meanest dog on the Jersey Shore, had the run of that garage. The chief had one of those dog doors and the dog used to come and go. I can tell you from my own experience, that was one unfriendly dog. I can’t imagine a stranger getting past him.”

Rick took one more quick look through the box holding Jenny Burke’s clothing.

“You want to tell me what it is you’re looking for?”

“First thing, I’m looking for the ribbon Jenny had in her hair that morning. Cass said she wore a ribbon in her hair.”

“Yeah, I remember seeing it at the trial. The hair ribbon, her earrings. A thin gold chain she wore around her neck, it had a little heart on it. All those little things were in separate envelopes.”

Denver looked at the inventory.

“Says here there’s a ribbon, look right here. One pink ribbon.” Denver leaned over the side of the box, pushing Rick aside. “It went in, it’s still here…”

He rooted around in the box for a few minutes, muttering, “Could’a fallen out of the envelope, gotta be in here someplace…” then looked up, puzzled.

“It’s not here.”

“I didn’t see it, either.”

“Where could it be?” Denver frowned. “It would have gone in, right after the trial.”

He began to remove items from the box, one by one.

“Here’s the chain with the heart… the earrings. No ribbon. Maybe in this box…” Denver started searching through a second box. When he came up empty-handed, he moved on to the third.

“Why would someone take the ribbon and leave the gold jewelry?” Rick wondered aloud.

“Right. If you were going to steal from the evidence box, why wouldn’t you take the items that had some value? Of what use is-” Denver stopped in mid-sentence and turned to look at Rick.

“Those pink fibers the lab found in the victims’ hair,” he said flatly.

“That’s what I’m thinking. Question is, how did he get it?”

“How did who get what?” Cass came into the room, followed by Annie, who, realizing that Rick could have used a little more time, gave him an apologetic smile. “We got you both some ice cream.”

Cass proceeded to unpack the bag. “Chocolate for the chief… I know that’s his favorite. Annie thought you liked coffee, Rick.”

Rick nodded. “I do. Thanks.”

“What’s in the boxes?” Cass frowned, then glanced at the label on the side of the box closest to the end of the table.

Burke homicide.

Cass looked from Rick to the chief and back again.

“You know, you didn’t have to send me out for ice cream, as if I were a child.” She addressed the men, angry with both. “I’m really insulted neither of you thought I could deal with this, that I wasn’t professional enough or stable enough-”

“Don’t blame them,” Annie interrupted. “That was me. I could tell from Rick’s expression that something was bothering him and it appeared he needed us to clear out. I wasn’t sure why. Ice cream was the only thing I could think of, since I skipped lunch and ice cream is the first thing I ever think of when I’m hungry. I apologize. It wasn’t intended as anything more than a means to buy Rick a little time for… whatever it was he wanted to do.”

“Apparently what he wanted to do was go through the evidence without me present. I’m not that fragile, Rick. I know what evidence boxes contain. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been a detective for several years, I’ve seen dead bodies… hell, who do you think took the photos of those victims?” She pointed to the stack on the table.

“I’m sorry, Cass. It just occurred to me to look for something specific, and I didn’t want you to be upset if we found it.” He blew out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I was absolutely out of line. I should have thought it through. If I had, I would have realized that you didn’t need to be patronized. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Find what you were looking for?”

“No.”

“And what was it, may I ask?”

“The ribbon you pulled out of your mother’s hair that morning.”

“It wasn’t there?” She frowned.

“It’s gone. The chief remembers that it had been there after the trial. But it’s gone now.”

“He took it. He has it.” Cass stared up at Rick, her anger pushed aside for now. “The fibers Tasha found… she said it was from ribbon that hasn’t been manufactured for years…”

“How’s that fit in with your profile, Dr. McCall?” Denver asked.

Annie set her bag on the conference table and reopened the file. She drew out the envelope of photographs the chief had given her when she arrived and spread the pictures across the table. Without being asked, Denver took a folder from one of the boxes and removed a photo, which he handed to Annie. She studied it for several minutes, then placed it on the table, ahead of the others.

“This puts it all into perspective,” she said matter-of-factly. “This has it all make sense.”

Her eyes went from crime scene photo to crime scene photo.

“Explain it to me, then, because I’m not following.” Denver crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you explain the fact that he killed all the Burkes? Except you, of course, Cass, though God knows he tried.” He paused to ask her, “Are you sure you’re up to this? You know, no one would think less of you. This is your family we’re talking about here.”

Cass waved away his concern and nodded. She’d never seen the photos of the crime scene from her own house, and, despite her bravado, wasn’t looking forward to it now. At that moment, her pride kept her in her seat and focused on the photos on the table between her and Annie.

“See, I’m saying the Burke homicides don’t fit the pattern, Dr. McCall. Jenny Burke was attacked along with her whole family. And Jenny Burke was not raped. All the other victims were attacked alone-every one of them raped and strangled-none of them in their homes.”