Meredith drew a breath, understanding. “The blanket and the ditch. It was the same.”

“One of the Arcadia men remembered Alicia’s murder. When I saw her picture in an old newspaper article, I knew she was one of the girls in Simon’s pictures. I was going to track down Alicia’s family the next day.” He looked at Alex. “And then you walked in.”

Alex stared at him, stunned. “Simon raped Alicia? But they caught the man who killed her. Gary Fulmore. He was a drifter. On drugs.”

Daniel hung his head wearily. “There were fifteen girls in those pictures. Only one of them had died, that I knew of anyway. Alicia. Until tonight.”

“Oh, God,” Meredith murmured. “Sheila.”

Daniel lifted his head, his eyes bleak. “I think so.”

Alex stood, vicious rage bubbling up from deep inside her. “You knew. You bastard. You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“Alex,” Meredith cautioned.

Daniel’s face became stern. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Alex shook her head. “You didn’t want to hurt me?” she repeated, stunned. “You knew that your brother raped my sister and you didn’t want to hurt me?”

“Your stepbrother may have been involved,” Daniel said quietly.

Alex stopped cold. “Oh my God. His letter.”

Daniel nodded and said nothing.

“And the letter he sent to Bailey,” she added. Dazed, she sat down. “My God. And the reverend.” Her eyes flew to his. “Wade confessed to Beardsley.”

“And now he’s missing,” Daniel said.

“Wait.” Meredith stood up, shaking her head. “If Simon and Wade raped these girls, and both of them are dead, then who’s behind all this? Who took Bailey? And who killed all those women?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think Simon did the raping.”

Alex’s temper blew again. “Of all the-”

Daniel held up his hand, wearily. “Alex, please. Simon was an amputee. None of the men in the pictures were missing a leg. I think Simon may have taken the pictures. It would have been just like him to do.”

“Wait,” Meredith said again. “Men? Like more than one man in the pictures?”

“Maybe five, maybe more. It’s hard to say.”

“So others were involved,” Alex said.

“And they don’t want anyone to know.” Meredith sighed. “Fifteen girls. That’s a hell of a secret to need to keep.”

Alex closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning. “Where are these pictures?”

“They were in my safe, at my house. Luke’s bringing them here, as we speak.”

She heard him push away from the counter and walk across the room. He sat next to her, but didn’t touch her. “I also called my boss. I need to tell him.”

She opened her eyes. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa cushion, back bowed, head down. “Will you be in trouble for not telling him before?”

“Probably. But I didn’t know what do.” He rolled his head to look at her and she saw the pain in his eyes. “If he allows it, I want you to look at the other pictures. You recognized Sheila tonight. Maybe you know some of the other girls.”

She trailed her fingertips down his back lightly. The pain in his eyes had banked her temper. “And maybe we know some of the other men.”

He swallowed. “That, too.”

“You both lived here.” Meredith said. “Why should Alex recognize faces you don’t?”

“I was five years older,” Daniel said. “When it all happened, I was away at college.”

“And he was rich,” Alex added. “The rich kids all went to the private school. Alicia and Shelia and Bailey and I, we all went to the public school. There was a very rigid line between the two worlds.”

“But Simon and Wade were friends.”

“Or at least accomplices,” Daniel said. “Simon was expelled from private school. He graduated from the public school. We need to get our hands on some yearbooks.”

“How do Janet and Claudia fit?” Alex asked. “They were only nine when Alicia died.”

“I don’t know,” Daniel said. He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes. “I do know that Sheila had something to tell me. My business card was in her pocket.”

“Who killed her?” Meredith asked.

“Some guy robbing the cash register.” Daniel shrugged. “Or that’s what we’re supposed to think.” Abruptly he lurched to his feet, stunned realization on his face. “I can’t believe I missed that.” He opened the door. “Hatton! Can you come here?” He turned to Alex. “I’m going to meet Luke and Chase at the restaurant. Stay here.”

Dutton, Wednesday, January 31, 1:35 a.m.

Daniel walked back into Presto’s Pizza, where Corey Presto was standing just inside the door, shell-shocked. He’d been crying, his face tear-streaked but now dry.

Dr. Toby Granville was examining the body draped over the counter and one of Frank’s deputies was taking pictures with a digital camera. Frank was crouched next to where the young officer had died, staring at the floor. They must have taken the young man to the morgue first. Sheila still sat in the corner, in her grotesque doll-like pose.

Daniel didn’t see Randy Mansfield and assumed he’d been either taken to the hospital or released. “Frank,” Daniel said.

Frank looked up, and for a moment desperation flashed in his eyes. Then the moment was gone and his old friend’s eyes were flat. “Why are you back, Daniel?”

“I’m taking over this scene. Toby, if you wouldn’t mind, please step away from that body. I’ll be calling in the state ME and crime lab.”

Toby Granville’s gaze swung to Frank, who’d stood slowly, his fists on his hips. “No, you’re not,” Frank said.

“That car out back was involved in a hit-and-run with a witness under my protection, just this afternoon. Now it’s here and another witness is dead. This restaurant is now a GBI crime scene. Please, Frank. Move, or I’ll move you.”

Frank’s mouth had fallen open and he jerked to stare at the man hanging across the counter. “Hit-and-run?” he asked unsteadily. “Where? Who?”

“In Atlanta, outside the Underground,” Daniel answered. “Alex Fallon.” He looked at the doctor. “I’m sorry, Toby. I need to process this internally. No offense.”

Granville backed away, gloved hands out. “None taken.”

“Wait,” Corey Presto was shaking his head as if to clear it. “You’re sayin’ this wasn’t a robbery? That that man meant to kill Sheila?”

“I’m just saying that car was involved in an attempted vehicular homicide earlier today.” Daniel turned his gaze to Frank, who looked broken. “And Sheila is dead.”

“What was she a witness to?” Frank asked quietly, and Daniel glimpsed the man he’d known so well. That he thought he’d known, anyway.

“That information’s need-to-know. I’m sorry, Frank.”

Frank dropped his gaze to the bloodstained floor. “Sam was only twenty-one.”

“I’m sorry, Frank,” Daniel said again. “You can stay while we process the scene if you like.” He turned to Presto. “Mr. Presto, we need to know if any cash is missing.”

Presto wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’d already made the deposit.”

“You were here tonight,” Daniel said, “when I was here with Alex Fallon.”

“Yeah, I was here.” He lifted his chin. “So?”

“Sheila was talking to me. You called her back to the kitchen, and not kindly.”

“I had orders pilin’ up. I don’t pay her to gab.”

“She said that she’d said too much, that she wouldn’t want to upset the powers that be. Who do you think she was talking about?”

“I don’t know.” But the man was lying and they both knew it.

“How long had she worked for you?”

“Four years. Since she got out of rehab. I gave her a chance.”

“Why? Why did you give her a chance?”

Presto’s cheeks flamed. “Because I felt sorry for her.”

Daniel softened his expression. “Why?”

Presto swallowed hard. “She’d had a hard time. I felt sorry for her, that’s all.” But when he looked at Sheila’s lifeless body his throat convulsed and a unique pain filled his eyes, along with new tears, and Daniel understood.