“Heard about what? Something that could affect the case?”

“Affect it?” Rothko nodded solemnly. “What I’ve got could turn this case upside down.”

Baxter checked her watch. She really shouldn’t be wasting time like this, standing in line. But there was a growling in her stomach that could not be ignored. She craved food, the greasier the better. Large portions.

Not good for her figure. But sometimes, she mused, a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

There was no denying it-this case was starting to get to her. Not the work, not the gruesomeness of the murders. Not even the fight to keep it alive when everyone else wanted to close it. What bothered her was the fact that it wasn’t going anywhere. It was a well-known fact that if a murder case wasn’t solved in the first six hours, the likelihood that it ever would be solved diminished significantly. In a protracted investigation, it was not at all unusual for a case to hit a stagnant stretch. Sometimes that presaged the breakthrough that resolved the mystery once and for all.

The problem here was, she thought they’d already had the big breakthrough. They just didn’t know what to do with it.

She wondered if Mike was still in his office, poring over all those library books. She suspected he was. She had heard-well before she’d even met the man-that he was seriously dedicated, that he had no outside life to speak of, that he was like a feral dog with a bone. He clenched the case between his teeth and refused to release it. Until it had been conquered. And this case was far from conquered.

She couldn’t believe she had kissed him. What the hell had come over her? Even now, just thinking about it made her cheeks flush. Not that he wasn’t good-looking-he was, big time. Very sexy, even if he was still hung up on his ex. But he was her partner. Her partner! When would she ever learn? She had just bounced back from that screwup in OKC with the chief of police. Was she going to repeat the same mistake on this end of the turnpike?

No, she was not, she silently resolved. From now on, it was probably best that they not be in the same room together, not any more than necessary. But even if they were. No matter how long they were together, no matter how lonely she got, no matter how blue were his eyes or how husky his voice-she couldn’t go down that road again. Best to forget it ever happened.

So why did she not think that was going to happen?

Damn everything but the circus! And they say men always repeat the same mistakes. Was she doomed to spend the rest of her life screwing everything up, over and over again?

Stay tuned, she muttered under her breath. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.

After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the front of the line. Thank heaven. Moral dilemmas could wait. Right now she needed carbos.

“I’d like an extra-large-” She froze in midsentence. Was that what it looked like?

“Pardon me, ma’am,” said the well-groomed man in his early thirties. “Is something wrong?”

“What is that… thing?” Baxter said, forcing her lips to move. She pointed.

“This lapel pin?”

“Yes, that. What is it?”

And then he told her.

And then she knew.

Ben leaned across his desk, hanging on every word Peter Rothko said.

“So I was at this convention in Kansas City,” he explained. “Networking with some of the other fast-food dudes. Carl Breyer. Harlan Woods. And somehow we got to talking about flavorists. Someone asked what was happening down at Prairie Dog. I told them I thought Conrad Reynolds was running the show, but that Chris Hubbard was doing all the work.” He paused. “And that’s when Harlan’s face went white.”

“He knew Hubbard?”

“He knew all about Hubbard. And what he knew wasn’t good.”

Ben felt his heart beating away in his chest. Could this be the break they’d been waiting for? That they needed so desperately? “Like what?”

“Like for starters, Chris Hubbard isn’t his real name. He changed it. Correction: he had to change it. After he was arrested. For-get this-indecent exposure.”

“You’re joking. That kid chemist?”

“I’m as serious as an IRS audit, Ben. Apparently this guy whipped it out and showed it to a nine-year-old girl one day in her front yard. Where he had no business being.”

“Was he convicted?”

“Harlan wasn’t sure about that. He thought Hubbard-or whatever his name really is-might’ve copped some sort of plea. But the publicity was so huge he had to move and do the name change.”

“How did your friend know this?”

“Apparently Hubbard applied for a job with him, so Harlan had him checked out. Harlan believes in very extensive employee checks. We’re talking real Ross Perot-type stuff. A little over-the-top, if you ask me. But I guess it paid off in this case.”

“Incredible.” Ben reached for the phone. “I’ve got to get this to my friend at police headquarters. If you’re right-” Ben looked up. “You may have saved the life of an innocent man.”

“I hope so.” Rothko ran a hand through his burnt-orange hair. “By the way, Ben-you play racquetball?”

“Not well.”

“Perfect! Let’s play a few rounds sometime.”

Ben smiled, his right hand already punching Mike’s number. “Deal.”

Gabriel Aravena obsessively checked the clock on the wall of the convenience store. Stupid, he told himself. That will not make the time pass more quickly. Just the opposite, it seemed. But he couldn’t help himself. He was so scared. So worried about what he might become. If he didn’t get out in time.

April should be back by now. Just as he was not trusted with the proceeds, so he was not trusted to deliver the paychecks. It had never mattered much to him-until now. The seconds seemed to tick away like hours as he desperately waited for her return.

What was taking so long, anyway? Didn’t she know how important this was? Didn’t she know the danger he was in? Of course-she didn’t. She couldn’t. Only he knew. He… and the other.

He felt damp-on his chest, under his arms. It was showing, too. He saw the woman staring at his shirt as he counted out her change. No matter. He was used to being stared at. Better to be thought a freak for sweating than because you were turning into a woman.

“The eagle has screamed!”

Aravena whirled around. It was April! Waving an oh-so-welcome slip of paper in her hands.

“Payday has arrived, Gabriel. Time to go out and par-tay!”

As he gazed at her, he felt so much affection he almost reached out and embraced her. Why not? He was quitting this job anyway. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago he had been fantasizing about hurting her. Sexually. But he had still been on the Depo back then, or just off it. Ironic, wasn’t it? The drug that was supposed to cure him in fact did anything but. It may have suppressed his physical ability to have sex, but it didn’t suppress his imagination. It inflamed it. When his body couldn’t find release one way, it looked for another…

“Thank you, April. It is much appreciated.”

“Don’t thank me, Gabe. I’m just the messenger.”

“Still-thank you. For everything.”

Her brows knitted. “Excuse me?”

“You have always been most kind to me. And I have appreciated it. I always will.”

She gave him a strange look. “What’s this all about, anyway? Why are you getting all mushy on me?”

Fool! he cursed at himself. You should have kept your mouth shut. “It’s just-I thought-you never know. When will we see each other next?”

“That would be… tomorrow at nine for the morning shift. Wouldn’t it?”

He did not answer.

“Gabe, you’re not planning to quit on me, are you? Not just when you finally made manager.”

“No, no. Of course not. I just…” He tilted his head slightly. “One never knows.”