Now, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in his left hand, he used his right hand to click onto CrimeFreePhilly.

The morning's lead headline was:

Three dead? had been Curtis's first thought as he sipped from his coffee cup.

Then: Pop-and-drop? That's an interesting way to put it.

He noticed that Michael J. O'Hara had written the news article. Curtis had seen the byline in the Bulletin for a long time, and he liked the articles the O'Hara guy wrote. But he hadn't seen O'Hara's name in some time, and he'd wondered if something had happened to the reporter. But now, here was his name appearing on this new website.

Curtis read O'Hara's news story. It was short, only six brief paragraphs stating the basic information that three men had been left dead in Old City at Lex Talionis. It didn't list the victims' names or how they'd been killed.

And it mentioned absolutely nothing about the pop-and-drops at the police stations.

Curtis saw that the article referenced both the reward offered by Lex Talionis and the speech made by Francis Fuller. Both references were underlined, meaning they were links to other pages with more information. When Curtis clicked on Francis Fuller, the page with the pop-and-drop article was replaced with a much longer piece on Fuller's speech on the "evildoers," written by someone named Dick Collier. He skimmed it, then went back and read it in its entirety.

Then he went back and clicked on the underlined Lex Talionis, and the link took him to the page at LexTalionis.com announcing the ten-thousand-dollar-reward program for information leading to the arrest and conviction of an evildoer. He knew about the program, but he read the page anyway to see if there was anything new.

There wasn't, and Curtis again clicked back to O'Hara's article on "Three Dead in Old City."

Where the hell did the third body come from?

A coincidence? Oh, sure. Someone just happened to have one lying around, and dropped it off on Halloween!

Is some asshole copying me?

Except they're not dumping bad guys at the police stations. Not that I know of, anyway. There haven't been any stories about those, mine or anyone else's.

In deep thought, he drained his coffee cup. Then he slammed the cup on the desk.

Some asshole has to be copying me!

What does that mean?

Well, for starters, it means more dead perverts.

Not that I have a problem with that.

But there's gonna be cops on every corner looking for me and whoever else is dumping bodies.

And that means, if I'm going to enforce the law of talion in whatever time I have left, I'm going to need to do something different. [TWO] Will Curtis had his balled fist inside the iron burglar bars and was again banging on the filthy metal door.

"FedEx delivery!"

Now he could hear footsteps inside. They were moving toward the door.

Then came the sound of a chain rattling against the back side of the door, then a deadbolt unlocking, then the doorknob turning.

The door cracked open, just barely.

Judging by the sliver of a gaunt face that Curtis saw through the crack, it was a woman old enough to be Kendrik Mays's mother. She stared at him with only her left eye, and she looked absolutely awful.

Well, what the hell did you expect to find here? Miss America?

Curtis held up the envelope so she could see the bill of lading.

"Got an express delivery for a Kendrik Mays."

The lone visible eyeball darted between Curtis and the envelope.

"Ain't today Sunday?" she asked.

"Look, I don't like working weekends any more than the next guy."

She nodded as she considered his answer.

After a moment, the woman said with a shaky voice, "He down at his cousin's. Don't know when he come back. You leave it with me."

She pulled the door open wider to where the chain became taut and stuck out a badly bruised hand, fingers clawing for the envelope.

Now Curtis could see more of the woman. The entire right side of her face, including all around the right eye, was deeply bruised. She stood, her feet bare, at maybe five-two. She was clearly malnourished, and couldn't weigh a hundred pounds. Torn and dirty black jeans and a ratty T-shirt hung on her.

Curtis, trying to get over his initial shock, pulled back the envelope.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but it's gotta be signed for by the person it's addressed to."

She squinted her sunken eyes and looked harder at the envelope. "Who it from?"

Will Curtis turned over the envelope, pretending to read from the bill of lading. "Says the U.S. Treasury in Washington."

"Treasury? You sure you got the right address?"

He read it off the envelope, then said, "Kendrik Mays, right?"

She said, "Think that may be a check?"

In a tone he hoped showed he was uninterested, he replied: "Yeah, that'd be my guess. Pension check, IRS refund, maybe some of that stimulus money the government's been giving away. That'd be a good reason they want it delivered to the right person."

Will Curtis looked her in the eyes and could see she was considering her options.

She said, "I sign for it. Kendrik my boy. I see he gets it."

Curtis shook his head. "Sorry, ma'am. I'm just a delivery guy. And I got to follow rules. I guess I'll come back-"

She slammed the door shut in his face.

What the hell? he thought.

Then he could hear the chain clanking against the inside. The door swung all the way open.

"Hurry up," she said shakily. "Maybe he got money, he don't beat me no more. Maybe he move out for good."

Curtis looked around the inside of the house. It was a shambles. The only furniture was a threadbare sofa with torn cushions and two white plastic patio chairs.

"You know that's not right. No one should beat you."

She said, "I knows. I do. But he don't mean to. It's drugs. They make him mean. Different, you know?"

"No, ma'am, I don't know. I can't begin to understand it. Where is he?"

She pointed to the floor, indicating the basement, and started to cry. "He was such a sweet little boy. The street turned him bad…"

"That, I know."

"What?"

He held up the envelope, then grabbed the tab at the top, peeling it open. He reached in and pulled out a sheet. It was a Wanted poster from the listing of Megan's Law fugitives at CrimeFreePhilly.com, one he'd downloaded and printed in his basement.

Next to a color mug shot of an angry-looking young black man with a full beard and dreadlocks was:

Name (First, Middle, LAST):

Kendrik LeShawn MAYS Description:

Black Male, 5'9", 200 lbs. Date of Birth: