“He was found in an autobody shop. Of course he had a tire iron.”

“I’m just telling you what I remember,” Randy said, annoyed. “You want it or not?”

“I’m sorry. Please go on.”

“The tire iron had Alicia’s blood on it and they found her blood splattered on the cuffs of his pants.”

“Pretty solid evidence,” Daniel said.

Randy’s mouth twisted in a fuck-you smile. “Glad you approve, Agent Vartanian.”

Daniel closed the folder. There was nothing more in it. “Who took his statement?”

“Frank did,” Wanda said. “Fulmore denied everything, of course. But he also claimed to be some rock singer, as I recall.”

“He said he was Jimi Hendrix.” Randy shook his head. “He said a lot of things.”

“Randy’s daddy prosecuted him,” Wanda said proudly, then her mouth drooped. “But he’s passed, too. Heart failure, twelve years ago now. He was only forty-five.”

Daniel had read that Mansfield ’s father had prosecuted in one of the articles Luke had downloaded, but he didn’t know the man had died. Not being able to interview any of the original players was damned inconvenient. “I’m sorry to hear about your father, Randy,” he said, because it was expected.

“I’m sorry to hear about yours,” Randy replied in a tone that said he really wasn’t.

Daniel let it go. “Judge Borenson tried Fulmore’s case. Is he still alive?”

“Yes,” Wanda said. “He retired and has a place up in the mountains.”

“He’s an old hermit,” Randy said. “I don’t even think he has a phone.”

“He has one,” Wanda said. “He just never answers it.”

“Do you have his number?” Daniel asked and Wanda flipped through her Rolodex.

She wrote it down and gave it to him. “Good luck. He’s a hard man to track down.”

“What happened to the blanket Alicia was found in?”

Wanda grimaced. “We got flooded during Dennis and lost everything below the four-foot waterline. That file was stored higher up, or it would’ve been gone, too.”

Daniel sighed. Hurricane Dennis had caused massive flooding in Atlanta and the surrounding counties a few years before. “Damn,” he murmured, then winced when Wanda glared. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Her glare became a worried frown. “The man who killed Janet. He’s killed another.”

“Last night. He seems to be copying the details from this old murder pretty closely.”

“Except for the key,” Wanda said, and it took all of Daniel’s control not to blink.

“Excuse me?”

“The key,” Wanda repeated. “The one that was found on the new victim’s toe.”

“Pics are on the Internet,” Randy added. “The key tied to her toe was pretty clear.”

Daniel shoved his temper back down. “Thanks. I hadn’t seen the news reports yet.”

Randy’s expression slid from sober to just shy of smug. “I’d say you have a leak.”

Or a damn dog named Woolf. “Thanks for your time.” He turned to go, then remembered his promise to Alex. “Oh, one more thing. Bailey Crighton.”

Wanda’s lips thinned. Randy rolled his eyes dramatically. “Danny…”

“Her stepsister is worried,” Daniel said, making his tone apologetic. “Please.”

“Look, Alex didn’t really know Bailey.” Randy shook his head. “Bailey Crighton was a hooker, plain and simple.” He looked over at Wanda. “Sorry.”

“It’s the truth,” Wanda said, dark color flooding her cheeks. “Bailey was white trash. She’s not missin’. She’s just gone, run off like the druggie tramp she’s always been.”

Daniel blinked at the venom in Wanda’s tone. “Wanda.”

Wanda wagged her finger at Daniel. “And you’d best be watching yourself with the stepsister. She may look all sweet in the moonlight, but she was trouble, too.”

Randy put his hand on Wanda’s shoulder and squeezed. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured to the old woman, then turned to Daniel, his eyes telegraphing back down. “Wanda’s son had a… relationship with Bailey a few years back.”

Wanda’s eyes blazed. “You make it sound like my Zane intended to take up with that whore.” She shook with fury. “She seduced him and nearly broke up his marriage.”

Daniel searched his memory. Zane Pettijohn was his age and had played ball at the public school. He’d had a penchant for curvy girls and hard liquor then. “But all’s well?”

Wanda was still trembling from rage. “Yes, with no thanks to that tramp.”

“I see.” Daniel let a few beats pass and Wanda sat back down in her chair, her scrawny arms crossed over her scrawnier bosom. “All that notwithstanding, what’s been done about Bailey? I mean, have you searched her house? Where’s her car?”

“Her house is a sty,” Randy said with contempt. “Garbage everywhere. Needles… dammit, Danny, you should have seen that little girl we took out of the closet. She was terrified. If Bailey’s gone, she left on her own two feet or one of her johns got her.”

Daniel widened his eyes. “She was still hooking?”

“Yeah. If you run her record, you’ll find she’s got a sheet as long as your arm.”

Daniel had, actually, and found Bailey’s last arrest was five years ago. She’d been busted for solicitation and possession several times before that. But she’d been clean for five years and nothing Randy had said about Bailey’s house matched what he’d heard from Sister Anne the night before. Either Bailey had gotten really good at not getting caught or something wasn’t right. Daniel was leaning toward the second one.

“I’ll run her record when I get back to the office. Thanks. Y’all have been a big help.”

He was in his car when it hit him. You’d best be watching yourself with the stepsister. She may look sweet in the moonlight… He’d kissed Alex last night, on her front porch, in the moonlight. Someone had been watching them. The bungalow was right off Main Street, so it might have been a goggle-eyed biddy and nothing more. Still, he was uneasy and Daniel was a man who listened to his instincts.

Which was why he’d kissed Alex Fallon last night, in the moonlight. His skin warmed at the memory. Which was why he planned to do so again, very soon. But his unease persisted, shifting to worry. Someone had been watching them. He dialed her number and got her cool voice as the call went to voicemail.

“It’s Daniel. Call me as soon as you can.” He started to pocket his phone and then frowned. Woolf. He called Ed. “Have you seen the news?”

“Yeah,” Ed said glumly. “Chase is on the phone with the powers that be, explaining how Woolf managed it.”

“So how did he?”

“BlackBerry. Snapped the picture and winged it off onto the Internet.”

“Dammit. I didn’t list his BlackBerry in the warrant. I have to call Chloe and re-up.”

“I already did, only the BlackBerry’s not in his name. It’s in his wife’s.”

“Marianne,” Daniel said with a sigh. “Can Chloe turn it around fast?”

“She thought so. Hey, you get any of the old evidence from the Tremaine case?”

“No,” Daniel said, disgusted. “Flooding took out their evidence room and the file is pathetic. The only thing I can tell you is that there was no key. That’s a new MO.”

“The two keys match,” Ed said. “Same exact cut, but that’s not surprising. Did you talk to the principal of that middle school?”

“Yeah, on my way from the crime scene to the police station. She said Janet rented a minivan to take the kids to Fun-N-Sun. I called the parents and all of them say Janet dropped off the kids at seven-fifteen. Leigh’s running down the car rental place from Janet’s credit cards. If anybody asks, I’m headed over to the morgue. I’ll call you later.”

Atlanta , Tuesday, January 30, 12:55 p.m.

Alex gave the photo of a smiling Bailey one last look before she slid it into her satchel, which sagged from the weight of her gun. Meredith had frowned when Alex had taken the gun from its lockbox, but Alex was taking no chances. Hefting the strap of her satchel higher on her shoulder, she looked up into the face of Bailey’s boss.