"I wondered the same thing," Steven said. "Either she's still alive, or-"

"Or she's dead and he wants us to find her before the animals do," Harry finished grimly.

"This is nowhere near the two other clearings," Sandra commented. "Is there a pattern? Like that nutcase who bombed mailboxes picking cities that made a happy face on the map?"

Steven winced. He hadn't considered that. He'd ask Meg if a map pattern like that matched the profile she'd created of their killer. "I marked them on the map. No pattern yet that I can see."

"But we only have three points," Harry said.

"Let's pray we don't have four," Steven returned. "I've sent some state uniforms over to secure the site and informed the local town sheriff. He's going to meet us there. He says the indicated area is huge, so we've got a long night ahead of us. Harry, I'd like you to come with me."

Harry sighed. "I'll grab some barf bags."

Steven almost smiled. "Sandra and Nancy, keep plugging away at the list of ballplayers."

"We've contacted ten of the players with priors so far," Sandra said. "They've all got alibis for Thursday night and the night Lorraine went missing."

"Keep going. When you've exhausted the list of priors, start in on the gentle folk." Steven looked over at Kent who hadn't taken his eyes from the note. "What, Kent?"

Kent glanced up, then reglued his eyes to the paper. "This, right here." He pointed to a small mark in the lower left corner of the page.

"I saw that," Steven said. "It's some kind of design. Why, does it mean something to you?"

Kent nodded and tilted his head to one side, taking in the design from a different angle. "This side of it, right here. This looks like it might match the tattoo on Lorraine Rush's scalp."

"The one that was mostly gone," Harry said thinly and Kent looked up with a nod.

"That's the one."

Steven got up and stood behind Kent, looking over the young man's shoulder. He squinted, trying to focus. "How can you tell, Kent? There wasn't a hell of a lot left of that tattoo."

"I had the ME take some photos and I had them blown up. Posted them above my desk and I've been looking at them every chance I get. I'm pretty sure, Steven. This is the mark." Kent turned in his chair so that he could meet Steven's eyes and once again Steven was impressed with the intelligence mixed with compassion he saw there. "And when you find Samantha's body-if you find it before it's scavenged-I'll bet you find this mark on her scalp, too."

Steven blew out a breath. "It'll be dark soon. Kent, come with me and Harry. If we find something I want you to be able to start on the scene before dark. Nancy, run that mark through your database. I want to know where it came from. Sandra, I guess you have enough perps to question so that if Nancy takes a break to run this design you won't be twiddling your thumbs."

"Unfortunately, I have plenty to do," Sandra said dryly and again Steven almost smiled.

"Then let's go, folks. Everyone be on call."

Everybody moved but Sandra who remained seated. As the room cleared, her face clouded and Steven felt his gut twist. Twist more, anyway. She had something to say she didn't want the rest of the team to know. Yet. Steven watched her look anywhere but at him. What Sandra had to say would be personal, then.

His mind went to Brad, God help him, and for the first time he admitted that whatever was troubling his son could be more than emotional. It could be illegal.

But not like this. He looked up to the bulletin board where he'd pinned the photo of Lorraine Rush's body. He refused to believe whatever was troubling Brad could be anything like this.

When it was just the two of them, Sandra picked up her notebook and moved to the seat right next to him. "You want it sugar-coated or straight?" she asked.

"Just spit it out, Sandra," he said, his voice coming out harsher than he intended.

"Okay. When I looked at all the games that were played in the week before the disappearance and crossed it with people who had access to both victims one possibility popped up."

Steven swallowed. Brad didn't know either girl. Did he? Steven realized he hadn't even asked himself the question. But why would he? he asked himself defensively. "Who?"

Sandra sighed. "Father Mike Leone."

Shocked, Steven could only stare. "No."

Sandra shrugged. "I'm sorry, Steven, but it lines up. Both girls were part of his parish. And there'd been some kind of church league tag football game the weekend before. I asked Anna Eggleston if Samantha was involved and she said that Samantha didn't normally go to those games, but that last weekend she did because it was a special game. Father Leone was there."

The twisting in Steven's gut became full nausea. "He was there. He didn't play a good game."

Sandra looked as ripped up as he felt. "It was one of those special games, Steven. Old versus young. The priests and church faculty played the church's teen team. Father Leone played. And I understand from a few other teens who were there that he did play a pretty good game."

Steven looked away, not sure how to manage this latest stress. "Does Harry know you were looking at Father Leone?"

Sandra shook her head. "No. I thought you should know first. I asked everyone so that no one would know what I was really asking. If he's innocent-"

"You could ruin one of the best men that ever lived," Steven finished bitterly.

Sandra laid her hand on his arm. "I know, Steven," she said quietly. "But if he's guilty…"

"He's not," Steven insisted. "I know this man. He's simply not capable."

"But you'll let me investigate, won't you?" Sandra asked, just as quietly.

Steven fixed his eyes on the photos of Lorraine Rush. Before, beautiful and vibrant. After… Someone had done this to her, had robbed a vibrant girl of her very life. Violently. It wasn't Mike. Steven knew it deep down. But he also knew he had a responsibility to Lorraine and Samantha and their families. And crazy as it sounded, Mike would agree.

"Yes," he whispered, then cleared his throat. "Don't do anything without coming to me first."

Wednesday, October 5, 5:30 P.M.

Helen set the casserole dish on the table. Tuna casserole. One of the boys' favorites and one of the easiest things to make. She hated it worse than liver, but two outa three wasn't bad.

"Boys!" she yelled up the stairs. "Dinner!"

Footsteps pounded on the stairs and Matt appeared and plopped in his chair.

"I'm starving, Aunt Bea."

"You're always starving, Matthew. That's hardly earth-shattering news." She turned toward the open doorway. "Brad! Nicholas!"

"I'm here," Nicky said and slid into his chair. "Y' don't hafta yell."

"Sorry," Helen said, appropriately chastised. "Where's Brad?"

"Probably sulking in his room," Matt said cheerfully. "He's grounded for life, after all."

Helen frowned at him. "Your brother is not grounded for life. It's only for a week."

"Might as well be for life," Matt said, shoveling casserole on his plate.

"And you would know," Helen said dryly. "You, who have experienced the joys and woes of grounding for many weeks of your own life."

"Yep," Matt said, just as cheerfully, digging into his plate with a fork. "But not this week. I'm golden," he added, his mouth full.

"Put down the fork and go tell your brother it's time for dinner."

"Golly gee whiz, Aunt Bea," Matt whined and Helen lost control of her mouth and smiled.

"Go," she said, popping him on the head with her oven mitt. "Now."

Muttering, Matt complied and Helen turned to Nicky. "Well, how was your day, Nicky?"

Nicky shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"Anything special happen?"

"No, ma'am." He looked up and brightened and Helen felt a tug at her heart. "This weekend Jenna said she'd take me and Cindy Lou to the park to teach her to sit."