“Not all. I was up for R &R and just came into Fort Benning. It was on my way, so I thought I’d stop on my way home. I still have one of Wade’s letters, you see. He asked that I write three letters, one to his sister, one to his father, and one to you.”

The screaming took up in her head and Alex closed her eyes. When she opened them Beardsley was watching her with a concern she ignored. “Wade wrote to me?”

“Yes. I mailed his letters to Bailey and his father to this address, but I didn’t know where to find you. I was looking for Alex Tremaine.” From the portfolio he carried under his arm, Beardsley pulled an envelope and his card. “Call me if you need to talk.”

Alex took the envelope and Beardsley started to walk away. “Wait. Wade sends Bailey a letter. She disappears, the same day a woman is killed and left in a ditch.”

He blinked at her. “A woman was killed?”

“Yes. I thought it was Bailey, but it’s not.” She ripped open the envelope and scanned the letter Wade had dictated. She looked up. “There’s nothing in this letter that will tell me where Bailey’s gone. It’s just a letter asking for forgiveness. He doesn’t even say what he’s asking forgiveness for.” Although Alex was pretty sure she knew. Still, it wasn’t anything that Bailey would have been abducted over. “Did he tell you?”

“He didn’t say in the letter.”

Alex noticed the tightening of Beardsley’s jaw. “But he did say in his confession. Trust Wade to screw up. You won’t tell me what he said, will you?”

Beardsley shook his head. “I can’t. And don’t say I’m not Catholic. The sanctity of a confession is just as critical to me. I won’t tell you, Miss Fallon. I can’t.”

First Vartanian and now Beardsley. I can’t. “Bailey has a little girl. Hope.”

“I know. Wade told me about her. He loved that little girl.”

That Alex found hard to believe, but she didn’t argue with him. “Then tell me something that can help me get Hope’s mother back to her. Please. The police won’t help me. They say Bailey’s just a junkie and probably ran away. Did Wade say anything outside the confession?”

Beardsley looked down, then into her eyes. “ ‘Simon.’ ”

Alex shook her head in frustration. “Simon? What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a name. Just as he died he said, ‘I’ll see you in hell, Simon.’ I’m sorry, Miss Fallon. That’s going to have to be enough. I can’t tell you any more.”

Atlanta , Monday, January 29, 12:15 p.m.

Dr. Felicity Berg looked up at Daniel through her goggles. She was standing on the other side of the autopsy table, bending over what remained of their Jane Doe. “You want the good news or the bad news first?”

Daniel had watched in silence as Felicity had taken Jane Doe apart with deliberate care. He’d watched her do autopsies more than a dozen times, but he never failed to wonder how she kept her hands so steady. “The bad news, I guess.”

The mask covering her face moved and he imagined her wry smile. He’d always liked Felicity Berg, even though she was called “The Iceberg” by most of the men. He’d never seen her as cold, just… careful. There was a difference, as Daniel well knew.

“I can’t definitively identify her. She was about twenty. She had no blood alcohol, and doesn’t have any obvious diseases or defects. Cause of death was asphyxia.”

“And the blows to her face? Where they pre- or postmortem?”

“Post. As was this bruising around her mouth.” She pointed to four fingertip-sized bruises.

Daniel frowned. “Wouldn’t those bruises be from the hand that killed her?”

Her brows lifted. “That’s what he wanted you to think. Remember the fibers I pointed out in her lungs and in the lining of her cheeks?”

“Cotton,” Daniel said. “From the handkerchief he shoved in her mouth.”

“Exactly. I’m guessing he didn’t want any of his own DNA in her teeth in the event she bit him. There are bruises on her nose that were put there before she was dead, you just can’t see them because of the beating. But after she was dead, somebody’s fingers were pressed to the side of her mouth. The distance between the finger bruises indicates it was a man’s hand, small in size. He went to considerable trouble to make this happen, Daniel. He was careful when hitting her face to leave this area around her mouth untouched. It’s almost like he wanted the finger bruises to show.”

“I wonder if Alicia Tremaine had finger bruising around her mouth.”

“That’s for you to find out. I can tell you this woman’s last meal was Italian, with sausage, pasta, and some kind of hard cheese.”

“Only about a million Italian restaurants in the city,” he said glumly.

She picked up the woman’s left hand. “She has thick calluses on her fingertips.”

Daniel leaned closer to see. “She played a musical instrument. Violin maybe?”

“Or something in the string family, something with a bow, I think. The other hand is soft, no calluses, so it’s probably not a harp or a guitar.”

“Was that the good news?”

Her eyes glinted in mild amusement. “No. The good news is that even if I can’t tell you who she was, I think I can tell you where she’d been twenty-four hours before she was killed. Come here, to this side of the table.” Felicity ran a black light wand over the victim’s hand, revealing the remnants of a fluorescent stamp.

He looked up and met Felicity’s satisfied eyes. “She’d been to Fun-N-Sun,” he said. The amusement park stamped the hands of anyone leaving and planning to return the same day. “They get thousands of visitors every day, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Felicity placed the woman’s arm at her side with gentle care and respect, elevating her in Daniel’s regard. “Or maybe someone will finally miss her,” she said quietly.

“Dr. Berg?” One of her assistant’s came into the room, carrying a sheet of paper. “This woman’s urine tox came back positive for flunitrazepam, one hundred micrograms.”

Daniel frowned. “Rohypnol? He used a date-rape drug? That’s not a lethal dose, is it?”

“That’s not even enough to knock her out. It’s barely enough to show up on the test. Jackie, can you run the test again? If I get called before a grand jury, I’m going to want a verification of your results. No offense.”

Unperturbed, Jackie nodded. “None taken. I’ll do it right now.”

“He wanted us to find the drug, but he didn’t want her completely incapacitated,” Daniel mused. “He wanted her awake and aware.”

“And he knows his pharmacology. It wouldn’t have been simple to achieve that low level of flunitrazepam. Again, he went to some trouble.”

“So the presence of Rohypnol is one more thing I need to check on the murder of Alicia Tremaine. I need to get that police report.” And so far, Dutton Sheriff Frank Loomis still hadn’t called him back. So much for professional courtesy. Daniel was going to Dutton to get that report in person. “Thanks, Felicity. As always, it’s been fun.”

“Daniel.” Felicity had stepped back from the body and was pulling off her mask. “I wanted to tell you that I was sorry to hear about your parents.”

Daniel drew a breath. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to go to the funeral, but…” A self-deprecating smile bent her lips. “I got to the church, but I couldn’t go inside. Funerals make me queasy. Believe it or not.”

He smiled at her. “I believe you, Felicity. And I thank you for trying.”

She nodded briskly. “I had Malcolm request the autopsy report on Alicia Tremaine after Miss Fallon left. When we get it, I’ll let you know.”

“Again, I appreciate it.” And as he walked away, he felt her watch him go.

Atlanta , Monday, January 29, 1:15 p.m.

When Daniel got back to his office, Luke was sitting in one of his chairs, a laptop in his lap and his feet up on Daniel’s desk. He looked up, studied Daniel’s face, then shrugged. “You’re making it damn hard for me to lie to my mama, Daniel. I can tell her you’re all right all I want, but those dark circles under your eyes tell a different tale.”