"While I'm at it, here's another one to think about: Remmy was in the room with Battle for hours. Who's to say she didn't shoot that stuff into the IV bag before she left?"

"What possible motivation would Remmy have?" asked Sylvia. "She's rich."

"What if Bobby had taken up his old womanizing ways, and Remmy had simply had enough? There might not be enough money in the world to counter that."

"That's a different story, of course. Do you have evidence supporting that?"

King thought about Battle 's secret drawer and Remmy's not wearing her wedding ring but decided not to mention that to Sylvia. "I'm not saying we have anything to support it. I'm just throwing out what-ifs. And maybe even more than money, a woman scorned is one of the oldest motivations for murder there is. So she exits with a built-in alibi and leaves the feather and watch as misdirection. The serial killer's M.O. has been all over the news, so she'd know those types of details."

"But the fact she was even there makes her a suspect, particularly with the delayed manner of death by poisoning," argued Sylvia. "You could make a case that if she were going to do something like that, she'd have slipped in another time, done it and left before anyone saw her. As it stands now, she really has no alibi at all."

"Well," said Michelle, "if I were the person who killed Battle and tried to pin it on our neighborhood serial killer, I'd be looking over my shoulder big-time."

"What do you mean?" said Sylvia.

"If I were the real killer, I'd be pretty upset about that."

"I'm still not following," said Sylvia.

"Look at it this way. The serial killings have been meticulously planned and executed. We have follow-up letters from the killer taunting the police. Clearly, this guy is a control freak and has some grand plan in mind. Now, if another person killed Bobby Battle and tried to pin the blame on the serial killer, our control freak may see it as tainting his masterpiece. He'll want to take out his revenge on the person who killed Battle."

"So, in effect, we may have one killer going after another," said King.

"Exactly," said Michelle.

"I'M DEPUTIZING YOU BOTH," SAID Chief Williams as he sat eyeballing King and Michelle at their office the next day. They stared back at him, clearly stunned.

"Excuse me?" said King. "I was one of your deputies once. I have no desire to re-up, Todd."

"I'm not giving you the option. I need you!"

"They outlawed indentured servitude a long time ago," King shot back.

"What's going on, Todd?" asked Michelle.

"I'm getting squeezed out by the feds, that's what."

"But you wanted their help," exclaimed King.

"But I also didn't want to be shoved off the case, right here in my own town. I don't want folks to think I can't do the job. I'm willing to work with the feds, of course, even let them jointly run the investigation with me. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let them push me out of investigating my very own crime spree."

King shook his head in bewilderment. "Todd, I think you've been attending too many autopsies. Why don't you let them handle it? They've got the manpower and the experience. Let it be their headache."

"There's something to be said for pride, Sean," rejoined Williams in an offended tone. "And you two have put in a lot of time already on this thing. You've got theories and ideas. Who's to say if we work together we can't crack this thing faster than the almighty FBI? Hell, Chip Bailey's running around already like he's king of the hill. I'm just waiting for him to tell me to make him some coffee. That'll be the day. I'll shoot the son of a bitch first." He looked at them pleadingly. "Come on, you two have just as much experience as any of those guys. I know together we can get this done. And remember, we live here, they don't. We need to make Wrightsburg safe to live in again. It's our home. Everybody's counting on us."

Michelle and King exchanged glances.

Michelle spoke first. "Well, it is a challenging proposition."

"So's hang gliding; that doesn't mean you should do it," King shot back.

"Come on, Sean, this case is intriguing you, you can't deny that," she pointed out. "You'll be thinking about it whether you're working on it or not. At least if we're deputized, we can investigate with some official status. We might make more progress that way."

"And what about our investigation firm?"

"You can still do that," answered Williams quickly. "I'm not asking you to spend all your time on this. But what I'm willing to do is give you access to everything. You won't have to tag along after me everywhere. You can go and talk to people and snoop around all by yourself under my badge. I've got the power. I can deputize anybody I damn well want to."

"And Bailey won't have a problem with that?" said King skeptically. "Come on, Todd, you know better."

"So what if he gets his back up? He can't argue with your credentials. But you just leave him to me. I'll go to the mat on this one, even if I have to call the governor."

"I don't know," said King, "this could turn out to be one big turf war nightmare, and I went through enough of those with the Service."

Michelle punched him playfully in the arm. "Come on, what could it really hurt?"

"We could get killed by this psycho! I bet that would hurt."

Michelle looked at Williams and winked. "I'm in."

The police chief glanced nervously at King. "Sean?"

A long moment passed. "All right," he finally muttered.

"Good," Williams said in a relieved tone. He took a pair of silver badges out of his pocket, recited two sentences of official legalese swearing them in and handed them the badges. "Okay, you're officially deputies. Now, look at this."

He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it across to them. They read it simultaneously.

"The letter from Bobby's killer, the Mary Martin Speck wannabe, only not," said Michelle as she glanced up.

King read the letter aloud: "Another one down. That makes five. It was a big one this time, but more to come. And no, I'm not Mary, no Florence Nightinghell here. The feather was just that, a feather for the featherweights that all of you are! See you soon. Not MMS."

He looked up with a thoughtful expression. "Was there a Zodiac symbol on the envelope this letter came in?"

"No, it was clean. Like the Canney-Pembroke letter and the Hinson letter. We've already checked it for prints and other traces. Nothing."

"This letter says that Battle was victim number five," said King.

"Well, heis number five, Sean," replied Williams.

"But the Pembroke-Canney letter only mentioned the death of one kid. Taken literally, that would make Battle only victim number four. That's an inconsistency that's inexplicable right now."

Williams slapped his thigh with his hand. "See, that's why I want you two on board. You see things, deduce things."

"We may be entirely wrong in our deductions," countered King.

"Or you may be exactly right," rejoined Williams. "Another thing you need to know. Hinson wore an anklet, a gold one. It wasn't on the body, and it didn't turn up anywhere in her house."

King said, "Pembroke's ring, Canney's St. Christopher's medal, possibly Tyler 's belly ring and now Hinson's anklet."

"Maybe he wants them as souvenirs," said Michelle, "trophies from his kills."

"Maybe. Was there anything missing from Bobby Battle?"

"Nothing that we know of." Williams studied King closely. "So what's your next move?"

King pondered this for a bit. Finally, he said, "It's time we determined once and for all if there's any connection between the killings."

"But, Sean, we know they were killed by the same person," said Williams.