“All right,” Cass said, though her voice was shaky.

“I want you to tell me what he smells like.”

“Uncle Pete.”

“He smells like your Uncle Pete?” Annie started. “Is he your Uncle Pete?”

“No, he smells like him. Like the stuff he wears when he and Aunt Kimmie go out.”

The same cologne or aftershave her uncle wore. Easy enough to trace.

“Does he speak to you? Does he say anything?”

“He’s shouting, but I don’t understand.” Cass covers her ears with her hands.

“Listen to what he’s saying, Cass. Remember, he can’t see you. He can’t hear you. And we took the knife away from him, remember? He can’t hurt you.”

“I can’t understand him. He’s… shouting. Cursing. He’s angry at me. He’s angry…”

“Cass, is there anything else you see? Anything else you remember about him?”

Cass touched her right index finger to the back of her left hand.

“The bird mark.”

“What does it look like?” Annie asked, thinking Cass had said birthmark.

“Like the one on the letters Mommy sent out. The big bird with the…” Her hands made semi-fists, the fingers held out like claws.

“Bird mark? You’re saying bird mark?”

“Yes.”

Anne Marie felt a jolt. This was it, then, their first real lead.

“Cass, is there anything else you see,” she asked again, “anything else about him that you remember?”

Cass shook her head.

“That’s fine, you did just fine. Now, I’m going to bring you back, just follow my voice back, Cass. I want you to count backwards now, slowly, from twenty-five. When you get to one, you’ll open your eyes… you’ll feel rested and peaceful. Start counting now.”

When she reached one, Cass opened her eyes and blinked.

“How did I do?”

“Just brilliantly. You may have given us exactly what we need, Cass. Now, how do we get Chief Denver back in here?”

“Cass, can you sketch out for me what you saw on the killer’s hand?” Craig Denver asked after Annie related what Cass had told her while under hypnosis.

“I don’t think so. I don’t really remember what I saw.” Cass shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just don’t remember.”

“It was something like this.” Annie picked up a pen and her notebook. “She said a big bird, with claws like this…”

Annie bent her fingers to form claws, as Cass had done while under hypnosis.

“Like a hawk? Like some type of raptor.” Denver studied it for a long minute, then muttered, “I’ll be damned,” before buzzing for Phyllis.

“Phyl, I need you to take a look at something in here.”

He held up the sketch when the secretary appeared in the doorway. “What’s that remind you of?”

Phyl didn’t miss a beat. “Looks like the logo on top of the newsletter we get from the sanctuary. Just got one the other day.”

“You still have it?”

“I think so. Let me take a look.” She disappeared behind the closed door.

“I should have figured that out from your description.” He turned to Cass. “Your mother was instrumental in having that bird sanctuary set up down there off Bay Road. That was a big project of hers.”

“I do remember that.” Cass nodded and turned to Rick. “I took you there. Down near where we found…”

“Right. There was a plaque in memory of your mother.”

“They had a big dedication ceremony when the sanctuary was opened.” The chief rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Seems to me that was that same summer.”

He looked up when Phyl came back into the room, holding up the newsletter. Across the top was the picture of a hawk, its talons extended as if reaching for something.

“What do you think, Cass?” Denver asked.

“I remember seeing writing paper in the house, on my mother’s desk in the corner of the living room, that had that hawk on it. I think my mother used to send out letters on it.”

“She probably would have,” Phyl told her. “She was one of the founding members of the sanctuary and was involved in all the fund-raising efforts. I was on her committee two years before the sanctuary opened. As I recall, we raised enough money to open three months ahead of schedule.”

“None of which tells us why the killer would have had the image on his hand,” Anne Marie reminded them.

“Oh.” Phyl rested her arms on the back of a nearby chair and leaned over slightly. “Founders’ Day. They have a big event every year to raise money to keep the sanctuary going. There’s a fair with rides for the kids, food, a little petting zoo, that sort of thing. They set it all up in the parking lot. When you pay to get into the fair, you get your hand stamped. That means you don’t have to pay for any of the events, and you can go to the sanctuary for free the entire weekend. As long as the stamp is still on your hand.”

“Were they having this fair back in 1979?” Rick asked.

“That would have been the first one, I think. I can check on that, but I’m pretty sure the sanctuary was founded in ’79,” Phyl said.

“It was. I remember,” Cass told them. “I remember hearing my mom talk about it. She was really excited about it and happy that it was going to happen. The dedication was the day before the attack at our house.”

“I can confirm that,” Phyl was saying as she left the room. “I’ll get the date of the dedication. It was a big deal back then.”

“So our boy would have been at the dedication of the sanctuary,” Rick said. “That’s where he would have come into contact with Jenny.”

“June first, 1979.” Phyl’s voice came through the intercom. “I called my sister. Says she remembers because it was her seventeenth birthday that weekend and all the kids who had volunteered to work at the sanctuary had come back to the house that night for cake and ice cream.”

“All the kids who volunteered?” Rick asked. “Your sister was a volunteer there that day?”

“Yes.”

“Phyl, get her back on the phone, then come in here. We need to talk to her,” the chief instructed.

“Will do.”

Phyl returned in less than a minute and hit a blinking light on the desk phone, then tapped Speaker. “Louise?”

“I’m here.” The voice floated from the box.

“Louise, Chief Denver here with Detective Burke and Dr. McCall and Agent Cisco from the FBI. We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Fire away.”

“You were at the dedication of the bird sanctuary back in ’79?”

“Yes. There were fifteen or twenty of us there that day.”

“’Us’?” Rick asked.

“Kids. From the high school.” She laughed. “Mr. Raddick, the science teacher, gave extra credit to anyone who volunteered to work out at the sanctuary that spring.”

Rick took over the questioning. “Not to work only that day?”

“No, no, in order to get the credit, you had to go at least one day each weekend that whole marking period.”

“Did you go?”

“Most weekends.”

“Do you remember who else went?” Would it be too easy to have names handed to them? When was the last time that had happened, Rick asked himself.

“I could probably remember most of the kids who went. Mostly girls, but a bunch of the guys went, too. Some of the real popular guys.” She paused. “I remember thinking it was odd that those guys went.”

“Odd in what way?”

“Guys like them weren’t generally interested in that type of thing.”

“Guys like who?” Denver leaned toward the speakerphone. “Do you remember names?”

Louise laughed again. “Sure. It was that whole bunch-you remember, Phyl. Billy Calhoun, Jonathan Wainwright, Joey Patterson, Kenny Kelly… that group.”

Denver groaned.

“Those were the only boys?”

“Far as I can remember. Oh, there might have been a few of the nerdy guys, like Bruce Windsor, but of the cool guys, it was only those four. That’s why so many of the girls signed up, because of them.”

“Anything stand out in your mind from that day?” Annie asked.