"No, Nicky, I can't," she said. "If I left Jim here, Jean-Luc would be lonely. You wouldn't want that to happen would you?"

Steven opened his eyes to find Nicky slowly wagging his head back and forth. "I guess not." Nicky's face brightened a shade. "Can you stay for dessert? Aunt Helen made three kinds of pies."

"Three pies? Goodness." Jenna shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not, darlin'. I have to go now." She straightened and angled a look at Brad. "Tomorrow? I'll see you in class?"

Brad jerked a single nod, which Jenna apparently took as assent.

"My briefcase, Helen? Please? And, Matt, my jacket, if you don't mind. Jim, get your leash."

With a sigh Helen left the room. With a disgusted glare aimed in Steven's direction, Matt followed her. Jim the dog had already padded away, Nicky in close pursuit. Brad stood and turned a dark scowl on his unshaven face. "Good work, Dad," he sneered. "Ruined yet another family dinner." He turned to Jenna. "Please excuse my father's rude behavior, Dr. Marshall. And feel free to take home some leftovers. I'm not having any more. I've lost my appetite."

Steven locked his jaw as Brad turned on his heel and raised his hand in a sarcastic salute. He waited until Brad was gone, leaving just the two of them and a table overflowing with turkey and stuffing. Brad was right. He'd ruined dinner and had been insufferably rude. "Jenna, I-"

She held up her hand, stopping him midsentence. "That's not necessary, Mr. Thatcher."

Ouch. So they were back to formalities. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Her eyes blazed with the same fire he'd seen when he knocked her down in the school lobby. "It's not me you should be apologizing to, but the boys and Helen. That was inexcusable."

"I'd like to explain."

She shook her head. "I don't want to hear it." Helen appeared with her briefcase and Steven stepped forward to help her carry the heavy monstrosity, but she grabbed it from Helen's hand with what could only be called a polite snarl. "I'll carry it myself," she snapped at him, then drew a breath and turned back to Helen. "Thank you for your hospitality. I'm sorry I have to run."

"I understand," Helen murmured and together Steven and his aunt watched Jenna limp to her Explorer, briefcase slung over one bowing shoulder, Jim at her heels. When she'd driven away, Helen looked at Steven with contempt. "You idiot," she whispered and left him standing alone.

Seattle, Washington, Sunday, October 2,

9:00 P.M. Eastern Time (6:00 P.M. Pacific)

"I hope you know what you're doing," Barrow said, slowing down for a pedestrian pulling a set of suitcases through the airport crosswalk.

"I plan to make it up as I go along," Neil replied dryly. "Unless you have a better idea."

Barrow glanced over at him before pulling mto an open space at the departures curb. "You could forget about all this and get on with your life. Maybe get Tracey back and settle down with a couple kids and grow too much zucchini in the backyard of a house in the suburbs."

Neil just looked at him and Barrow sighed and added, "Or you could go do what you think you have to do. Just be careful and don't do anything stupid."

"Like flying across the country on the off-chance it's the same guy?"

Barrow nodded. "Hold your temper until you have real evidence. Even if it is the same guy."

Neil frowned. "I had real evidence last time."

Barrow shrugged. "The judge said we didn't."

"The judge-" Neil bit off what he really thought of the judge. "I'll be good. I promise."

"I don't see why you can't investigate this from here. The Parkers couldn't have just dropped off the face of the earth."

"For all intents, they did." Neil should know. He'd spent every waking hour after the moving truck pulled away from the curb three years before trying to figure out where the Parkers had run. Where they'd started their new life, leaving anguish behind here in Seattle. "If you're rich enough, you can buy nearly anything, including a new start. I have to prove to myself it isn't Parker."

Barrow sighed heavily. "So when are you coming home, Neil?"

"When I'm finished, I guess. I had some vacation coming, so I took a few weeks off." Actually, he had more than a few weeks accrued. He hadn't taken a day off in almost three years.

If his LT hadn't allowed the leave, Neil had already planned to resign, which both Barrow and his LT would have classified as "stupid," but was consistent with how much he believed in what he was doing. Three years ago he'd made a promise to four dead girls who were denied justice due to a technicality, an error on the part of the Seattle police. His error.

Those four girls would get justice if it was the last thing he did.

"Take care, Neil," said Barrow and Neil forced a grin.

"Always do. Thanks for the ride."

Neil climbed from the car, his hanging bag swung over his shoulder, the handle of the locked case holding his service re-volver clenched in his right fist. "Carolina, here I come," he murmured. "If you're William Parker, watch out. You won't get away again."

Raleigh, North Carolina,

Sunday, October 2, 9:00 P.M. Eastern Time

He'd been frozen out, Steven thought, staring at the little peephole in Jenna's front door. By his aunt, his children, and now by the woman whose forgiveness he needed to secure before he'd be able to sleep another wink. He knocked again. "Jenna, please open the door. I know you're in there." He leaned his forehead against the cold steel. "Please let me explain." What he intended to say, he had no idea. He just knew he had to make this one thing right. If only this one thing.

He'd tried to let the whole situation just die down. He'd fixed himself a plate of turkey, which tasted like sawdust. But he'd eaten it, if for no other reason than to have some sense of normalcy. Then he'd looked up to find Nicky staring at him with those solemn brown eyes. "You shouldn't have yelled, Daddy," Nicky said. "She's a nice lady and she didn't know Aunt Helen invited her over on purpose." He'd raised both carrot-colored brows, his face looking so much older than seven. "You need to apologize, Daddy." Wiser than seven, too.

And if that weren't chastisement enough, Matt took his turn, extolling Jenna's virtues and frowning at his father as though he were mud. Helen was ignoring him and he didn't even try to talk to Brad. So he'd left, gotten in his car, and driven with no destination in mind, but was totally unsurprised to look up and find himself sitting in front of her apartment.

"Jenna, I saw you through your window. I won't stop knocking until you open the door."

"I'll call the police," she said through the door.

"I am the police," he reminded her. "'Please."

"She's a stubborn one," a voice said behind him and he turned to find himself the subject of octogenarian scrutiny from a six-inch opening of the neighbor's front door. "I'm Mrs. Kasselbaum."

Ah, he thought. The nosy neighbor. Perhaps she might be an ally. He extended his hand. "I'm Special Agent Steven Thatcher of the State Bureau of Investigation," he said and watched her eyes go round as saucers. Antique saucers.

A gnarled arthritic hand appeared from the six-inch opening and shook his hand with a strong grip. "Is our Jenna in some kind of trouble?" she asked, dropping her voice to a loud whisper.

"No, ma'am. I got myself in trouble. I said something I shouldn't have and now she won't let me apologize. Do you have any suggestions?"

She pursed her lips, then said, "I've got a key." And it was Steven's turn to widen his eyes.

"You do? Jenna gave you one?"

Her expression fell. "No," she admitted. "The tenant before traveled a lot and I watered his plants and fed his cat. The landlord never changes the locks between tenants."