It was better than they deserved. Better than she deserved. John brought a hand to the back of his head and the ridge of fifteen stitches there, ones received courtesy of Julianna's betrayal. He drew in a long, deep breath, working to calm himself. Since that incident, he'd had to call upon all his self-control, all his training and self-discipline to remain focused. To push back the rage, the betrayal and even hatred, pulsing through him and concentrate on the job he had to do.

He had Julianna and her band of compatriots in his sights already. He smiled to himself, amused. It had been easy to locate them. Pathetically so. They had run to Kate's friend in Houston, the writer Luke Dallas. He had learned that by listening in on Blake and Marilyn's hushed conversations at The Bean. From Kate's Rolodex he had found Luke's address and phone number. The trip from New Orleans to Houston's Hobby airport had taken less than an hour, the trip from the airport to Luke's address in King-wood another forty-five minutes, including the time it had taken to rent a car.

Unfortunately, he had missed them. John brought the juice to his lips. No problem there, Luke's editor had been only too happy to help him out when she had learned he was from People magazine and interested in doing a feature on the author. She had directed him to Luke's agent.

The People magazine gambit had worked again, like a charm. The man had fallen all over himself in his eagerness to get the interview. At first he had claimed not to be able to contact his client, then to prevent losing the interview, had confided that Luke was on vacation in D.C. but would be checking in.

Then it had only been the nuisance of discovering where they were staying. A couple dozen calls later he'd had a name-the Holiday Inn-Capitol Hill. Luke Dallas had made room reservations in his own name.

So easy. John shook his head slightly, almost feeling sorry for them. The choice of D.C. had been the only surprise of the chase so far, and he found a sort of perverse rightness that Julianna's end should come there, where she first betrayed him.

John turned his gaze to the window and the blue sky and billowy white clouds beyond. Luke Dallas should not have become involved in his business. Now John had no choice but to kill him. Kate's involvement he could understand-she would protect her child, no matter the cost to herself-though he regretted deeply having to end her life. He admired her courage and loyalty, her honesty and commitment.

Perhaps, if they had met under other circumstances, he might even have fallen in love with her.

For that, he would not make her watch her child die.

John took a last drink of the juice, holding the cool, sweet liquid on his tongue a moment before swallowing. Savoring it. The way he would savor killing Julianna and her little group of misguided supporters.

He could hardly wait to see the look of shock on their faces when he showed up. Could hardly wait to see her shock. John closed his eyes and imagined a bullet blowing the back of Julianna's head off.

Julianna's description of John's apartment had been disturbingly accurate. Naked, Kate thought, taking a step farther inside. Bloodless and cold. Like the man.

She moved her gaze over the room before her, taking in the leather couch and wine-and-forest print side chairs, the perfectly appointed and organized bookshelves, the generic prints on the walls. John Powers didn't live here; no one did. It was a shell, like a furniture store display, decorated with expensive and classic items, yet with none of the human touches that made a dwelling a home. The only exception was a framed photo on the sofa table.

"Julianna," Luke said, turning to face her, "you've done this before. Any ideas where we should start?"

The young woman stood just inside the front door. She shook her head.

"What should we be looking for?" Kate asked, setting Emma's carrier down, her daughter sound asleep in it.

"Correspondence," he answered. "Phone bills, credit card receipts, or anything else that might help us link him to a place, date or event. Of course, the big find would be the key to his code, though I'd bet he carries that around in his head." Luke turned to Kate. "Why don't you and Julianna search here and in the kitchen. I'll start in the master bedroom."

Kate nodded. "Sounds good to me." She glanced at Julianna-the younger woman hadn't moved from her position just inside the door. She looked as if she might bolt at any moment.

"You okay?" she asked.

Julianna looked at Kate. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

Julianna blinked, her gaze suddenly focusing on Kate. "Fine. Ready?"

"I'll start in here, why don't you take the kitchen?"

Julianna nodded and made her way past Kate. Kate watched her go, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. The other woman's movements were halting, as if her legs weren't completely cooperating with her brain, and her cheeks were pasty, as if she might be sick at any moment.

It might not be such a good idea for her to be here. Kate glanced toward the bedroom, wondering if she should discuss it with Luke. She shook her head, deciding that she was overreacting. The best thing to do was get busy so they could all get out. Being here gave her the creeps, too.

Kate started with the piece of furniture closest to her, one of the print side chairs, a wingback. She checked under the cushion, then turned the chair over, inspecting the bottom lining carefully, looking for a gap in the stitching, a flap that could be pulled away and some small item tucked inside. Finding nothing, she went to the next chair, then the built-in bookshelves.

While she worked, she heard Julianna in the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, rummaging through the freezer. Every so often, she would say something to herself, though Kate couldn't make out what.

Luke emerged from the master bedroom, crossing to her. "Take a look at this."

It was a copy of the New Orleans Times Picayune, dated two months before. Kate stared at it, a queasy sensation in the pit of her gut. She met Luke's gaze. "This means that-"

"Two months ago he had discovered Julianna's whereabouts and was planning his trip to New Orleans."

Kate sucked in a sharp breath. How long had he been watching them? Stalking them, waiting for just the right time to strike?

Gooseflesh crawled up her arms, and she rubbed them. "Anything else?"

He shook his head. "Unfortunately not. This guy makes spartan look cluttered. How about you?"

"Nada. Let's check with Julianna."

They did, but she'd had the same results as Kate.

Luke made a sound of frustration. "You're checking inside containers, aren't you? Pulling things out to look behind them?"

"What there is to check behind and inside, I am. Take a peak." She swung open one of the cabinets. It was empty save for a half dozen plates, glasses and bowls. "Check out the fridge." Except for a bottle of champagne, it, too, was empty. "Same with the freezer and pantry."

"Was it always like this?" Kate asked, moving her gaze over the room, taking in the white cabinets, walls and tile floor. The surfaces were all so clean they gleamed.

"Not so empty, no. I mean, he always had to have things just so. John hates any kind of dirt or clutter, won't tolerate them, but he used to have food in the refrigerator and pantry."

"Even the trash cans are empty," Luke murmured, checking the one under the sink. "I wonder what it means?"

"Maybe he thinks of this as a kamikaze mission," Kate offered.

Luke considered that a moment, then inclined his head. "Or maybe this is a further sign of him coming unglued. A compulsion gone haywire."

"Interesting," Kate murmured, "he can't stand a mess but kills people for a living. What does he do when he gets blood on his hands?"