“So these kids, Ava and J.J., were afraid the others coming out of the woodwork were going to ruin his father's chances to win the election?” Robert rested his forearms on the table. “You think that's the motive?”

“I think that's part of it. And Ava, by the way, is actually Avery. JJ. was Justin on the message board.” Emme told him. “I think in the beginning, to her, it was a game. But right from the start, JJ. was protecting what he saw as his. His home, his name, his share of what would be quite a substantial inheritance someday. He wasn't about to share with these nobodies. And once he killed that first time, he found he liked it, pure and simple. He wanted to do it again. He'd convinced himself that these girls were no real relation to him, so he felt okay about raping them and strangling them afterward.”

“So his first victim was one of the girls he met online?” Susanna asked.

“Yes. Jessica. He met her on the message board, but then he got together with her during a trip to Florida last year and talked her into going off with him. He killed her and drove back to Maryland with her in the trunk of his car, then he buried her at the far end of their property. There's a place the locals believe to be an Indian burial ground, and he buried her there. He stole her laptop and went onto the message board and posted as Jessica, said she was leaving for France because her father's job was transferred. End of Jessie, nice and neat.”

“If his first victim had been one of the boys, do you think he would have enjoyed it as much?” Mallory asked.

“Probably not. I don't think shooting Henry gave him the kind of thrill that strangling the girls did. I think the whole thing kind of got all twisted in his mind. He enjoyed the rapes-he must have, because he kept souvenirs of each of the girls. A necklace of Jessica's, a length of Belinda's hair, a ring of Lori's. They were still trying to figure out what he took from Ali, but he did keep all of their laptops. I'm only guessing, but I think he probably got a thrill from reading their emails, you know, like a way to know them better?”

“How did Nick take it?” Robert wanted to know.

“As well as anyone can. I think it was terribly painful for him to hear what had been done to Belinda. He showed an admirable amount of restraint.”

“Emme-Ann-I'm not sure how to address you now,” Mallory said. “Obviously, we're pleased that our first case was successful. But, you know, we have a real problem here. You lied to everyone at this table.”

“I did. And I'm sorry… I cannot begin to tell you-each of you-how sorry I am that I had to do that.”

“Had to?” Kevin asked. “Why did you feel you had to?”

“Father Burch, it's a long story,” she told him, tears welling in her eyes.

“I'm still Kevin,” he told her, reaching out to cover her hands with his. “Why don't you start from the beginning?”

She took a deep breath and tried to get her thoughts and emotions under control. She kept her eyes cast down, unable to meet the gaze of anyone at the table. She had lied, she had let them down. Would she have eventually told them the truth? She didn't know. She'd like to think she would, someday, but she couldn't be sure of that.

“Mallory, we talked one day not too long ago, and I told you-”

“Some bullshit story about being found by nuns in a church as a newborn.” Mallory rolled her eyes. “You probably could have done better than that.”

“That bullshit story was the truth.” Emme managed a weak smile. Even now, she didn't want to think of herself as Ann.

“You were abandoned by your mother?” Kevin still held her hands, as if to give her strength, and his kindness brought tears to her eyes again.

She nodded. “They said I was only a few hours old. The nuns named me Ann after St. Ann-that's the name of the church I was found in. My mother was never identified. My father… who knows?”

“Were you adopted?”

“I was almost adopted twice, actually. The couple who had me first ended up divorcing before the adoption was finalized, so I was returned to Catholic services. The second time, my almost-mother died and my almost-father couldn't cope, so back I went again. I grew up in foster homes. When I was eighteen, I was out of the system and on my own. I got a job, I lived with some other girls like me who had no one to help them out… Long story short, I went through junior college in California while I was working as a file clerk for the police department in Silver Hill. I worked my way up in the department, then I asked to go to the police academy. I applied, and I qualified.” She raised her head, gave Kevin's hands a final squeeze, then let go and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked at every face, met every eye. “Regardless of what you might think of me now, I was a damned good cop. That's one thing you have to understand about me. I was a damned good cop.”

“But why lie about your name? I don't understand.” Susanna shook her head from side to side.

“Five years ago, I was working undercover in narcotics. I arrested a young woman for sale and distribution and brought her in. She was young-I think she was only seventeen at the time. She wasn't using, but she was selling, and I was afraid it was only a matter of time before she started sampling the goods. I tried to mentor her, I guess is the best word. Got her one of the better public defenders, tried to get her to find a different line of work. If other things in her life had been different, I think she might have moved on. But her boyfriend was a man named Anthony Na varro, who now controls a huge piece of the drug trade between Mexico and the southern United States.” Her mouth was getting dry and she licked her lips.

Trula got up and went to the small refrigerator in the conference room and returned to the table with several bottles of water. She placed one in front of Emme and the others in the middle of the table for whoever might want them.

“Thank you.” Emme twisted the cap off and took a long drink.

“Go on with your story,” Trula told her when she finished.

“Tameka found out she was pregnant just about the same time that Navarro got tired of her. He set her up to be arrested with a large quantity of cocaine in her possession, which guaranteed her a prison sentence.”

“What do you mean, he set her up?” Kevin frowned. “How could he do that unless he had-”

“A friend in the police department?” Emme nodded. “We could never figure out who it was, but there had to have been someone. Supposedly it was an anonymous tip, but it was too specific, the wheres and the whens and the whats. Anyway, Tameka goes to prison, and before you know it, she's ready to have her baby.” Emme sighed deeply. “You have to understand, she was a really decent kid who got in over her head, and had no one to help her out. Her own mother was a junkie, she had no idea who her father was-she had no one in this world except her unborn child, and she was determined to do what was best for that baby.”

“Chloe.” Trula whispered.

Emme nodded. “Tameka asked me-begged me-to take her child and adopt it. She said she knew she wasn't going to get out of that prison alive, that she wanted her baby raised by someone who would give it a good life. She picked me.”

Tears rolled down her face and she had to stop for a moment.

“So I agreed to take the baby after it was born. We had a lawyer and someone from children's services there to make it all legal. When Chloe was three days old, I brought her home. A few weeks later, Tameka was dead. They never did find out who actually killed her, but we all know that somehow Navarro had gotten to her.”

She took another sip of water. “Fast-forward four years. Anthony Navarro has a bad case of measles and finds out he's sterile, and he's pissed. He's older now, and he's been thinking about passing on his name, his empire, and now he's bummed out about not having any offspring. And then one day he remembers Tameka and the baby she had in prison. He spread a lot of money around to find out what happened to this child. He found the social worker who handled the case, he has the records copied for him, and someone in public service gets a nice fat envelope for coming up with the goods.”