"What the…?"

"Kimberly, now!"

The girl dug her elbow into Andrews's exposed side and lashed out with her foot. Twisted and off balance, Andrews released his hold on her instinctively, struggling to bring his gun up and around. Rainie whipped the metal chair into Andrews's neck and shoulder. He howled as his gun and the chair both went flying and he realized too late he'd been duped by the oldest trick in the book.

"Bitch!" he roared.

"Kimberly," Rainie cried out again. "Gun, now!" They needed to find a weapon. Now, now, now.

Her Glock, under the coffee table. Rainie scurried over on all fours. Andrews saw her movement, and cut her off with a brutal kick to her chin. Her jaw cracked. She collapsed on her back, seeing stars. Dimly she was aware of Kimberly diving across the room reaching for Andrews's fallen gun. Andrews saw her. He had the chair. Raising it over his head, towering above Kimberly.

The chair slammed down. Kimberly made a heavy, wet sound Rainie had never heard before.

Andrews smiled in triumph. Then he flung down the chair and crouched for the 9mm Rainie could now see it lying just inches from Kimberly's body. The girl had been so close…

One last chance. Rainie flipped onto her side, looking, looking, looking. The Glock, there against the brass leg of the table. Come on, Rainie. Dying is not preferable to living. Dying is not preferable to living! Damn, she'd be an optimist in the end. Reach!

The startling sound of a cartridge being ratcheted into a gun chamber. The sound of death.

"Bye-bye, Rainie," Andrews said.

And Quincy said, "Hey Andrews. Get your fucking hands off my daughter."

Virginia

Albert Montgomery was still feeling calm and controlled fifteen minutes later when Quincy returned to the dimly lit interrogation room. Four thirty-one P.M. The agent probably had just confirmed his daughter's death. Albert wondered if he'd get to see him cry. He would like that.

His interrogator stopped in front of him.

"Howdy Albert," the man said in a crystal-clear voice Albert had never heard before. "It's my turn to tell you some things you don't know. One, I'm sure Kimberly is just fine. And two, I'm not Pierce Quincy." The man reached up and ripped off the salt-and-pepper wig it had taken Glenda and an FBI makeup expert two hours to apply. Then he stepped out of special shoes with two-inch lifts. And he removed his navy blue suit jacket, custom-tailored to mirror Quincy 's taller, broad-shouldered build. "The name is Luke Hayes," the stranger said calmly. "And I'm a friend of Rainie's."

Portland

Andrewss face paled. He snapped around toward the bedroom door, the gun in his right hand dipping down toward the carpet, but his left hand still on Kimberly's shoulder. "Who? How? But you're in Virginia!"

Quincy stepped into the living room from the adjoining bedroom. He had his 10mm out, but down at his side. His gaze was locked on Andrews. He'd wasted fifteen minutes relentlessly searching the lobby for a man talking on a cell phone before he'd realized his mistake. The man was already upstairs. The man was already in his daughter's room. Plan B had always been the fire escape. Six floors up, rung over rung. Quincy should be tired. He should be exhausted.

He stood looking at this man who was heavily armed and crouched over his daughter, and he felt unbelievably calm. Time had slowed. All was manageable. The UNSUB finally had a face. And like so many killers before, the face wasn't even that impressive. He was just a man after all, average height, average weight, average age.

"You killed Mandy," Quincy said. He kept approaching. Andrews still hadn't brought his gun back up. He hadn't shot any of his other victims. Chances were that he wasn't that comfortable with guns, Quincy decided. An ambush was one thing. A genuine face-off, another.

"Easy pickings," Andrews snarled. But his voice wobbled. Behind him, Rainie was slowly extending her arm again, reaching for a pistol Quincy could just make out beneath the glass table. Quincy quickly looked away, not wanting Andrews to follow his line of sight. He focused his gaze on Kimberly instead, who was beginning to moan at Andrews' feet.

"You killed Bethie," Quincy said.

"More easy pickings." Andrews shifted suddenly, wrapping his arm around Kimberly's neck and dragging her up against him. Kimberly's eyes fluttered open. She looked disoriented, bewildered. Then her gaze met her father's and she simply looked heartbroken.

"It's okay," Quincy told her automatically. He wanted to comfort his daughter, erase the pain from her gaze. He kept his hands at his sides. Kimberly was strong. He would trust her strength to carry her through, just as he hoped she trusted his strength now. Believe in me, he willed his daughter. Iwill always take care of you.

Andrews smiled and jerked Kimberly closer. "On your feet, Sleeping Beauty. Time to say bye-bye to Daddy."

Andrews jerked them both upright. Quincy didn't make any move to stop them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he discerned another movement in the background, but once again he resisted the temptation to look. He homed in on Andrews, focusing now on narrowing the man's universe. There was just Andrews, Kimberly, and Quincy. Just one vicious predator, one daughter, and one father determined to keep his child safe. If he had eyes only for Andrews, Andrews would have eyes only for him. Rainie… The rest must be a leap of faith.

"How does it feel, Quincy?" Andrews demanded, twisting Kimberly's arm, bringing her even closer against him. "How does it feel to lose everything and never even understand why!"

"You're not a real person," Quincy said conversationally, moving slightly to the left, away from the living room, and drawing Andrews's gaze with him. "You're a shell of a man, lacking genuine feelings, connections, compassion. You've spent your whole life acting at being a human being, molding yourself into other people's images because otherwise you don't know how to be. You don't know who to be. The greatest justice in life was that your little girls never had to see you again."

Andrews jerked up his pistol. He pointed it at Quincy 's head. "Fuck you," he screamed, causing Kim-berly to flinch. "I'm going to kill you! I'm going to blow out your goddamn brains!"

"You can't," Quincy said, his voice as calm as Andrews's was angry. He looked at his daughter, willing her to remain strong, willing her to be all right.

"Yes I can!"

"You can't. Without me, your life has no purpose. When I'm gone, who will you be, Andrews? What will you do? What will you dream about at night? As much as you hate me, you need me even more. Without me, the game ends."

Andrews's face grew red. His eyes dashed from side to side. The rage was building inside him, the implosion imminent. From rational act to crazy reaction. This was what Quincy needed. For Andrews to finally lose control. For Andrews to unleash the monster he kept locked inside.

Andrews's finger wrapped around the trigger. Quincy kept his eyes on Kimberly. He tried to tell his daughter how much he loved her, and he tried to apologize for what she would have to watch next. Rainie. Kimberly. Rainie.

God give them both strength.

A movement out of the corner of his eye…

"Kimberly," Quincy murmured. "Fuck ballet."

On cue, she sagged heavily in her captor's arms. Andrews howled in surprise and pulled the trigger, but her unexpected movement had rocked him off balance. Gunfire spit low across the wall. Quincy dashed left. He brought up his 10mm to return fire but Andrews and Kimberly were too tangled together. He didn't have a shot. He didn't have a shot.