“Yes.” She unlocked the door and tossed her bag onto the passenger seat.

“How many times have you read through this?” he asked.

“Lots. You?”

“Lost count.” He looked past her, toward the exit. “Every time I think, I wish I had been there. Maybe I could have done something…”

“There was nothing anyone could have done. Aidan was there, and he couldn’t save him.”

Andrew merely shook his head.

“Andrew, when was the last time you looked at this file?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” he admitted. “We were all sitting around at Aidan’s bachelor party, talking about how much we missed Dylan, and I just felt-I don’t know, compelled, somehow, to take another look. I guess I always somehow hope this time it will end differently.” He shrugged. “Of course it never does.”

“Do you happen to remember seeing a report from an agent named Melissa Lowery?”

“Not really. I remember her, though. Didn’t she leave the Bureau a while ago?”

“Not long after Dylan died. She was on the backup team that night.”

“Maybe she had a tough time dealing with it.” He cleared his throat. “She wouldn’t have been the only one.”

“Any idea where she is now?”

“No. I didn’t really know her. I only know her to say hi.”

Annie opened the back door, then turned to take the files from Andrew. She placed the files on the backseat, then got into her car and started the ignition.

“By the way, Andrew, did you know an agent named Lou Raymond?”

“Yeah. What a waste. He died in a car crash out near I- 95 a couple of years ago.”

“That’s the one.”

“He was on one of the exit ramps coming off 95 into Maryland. Three or four in the morning. Word was he apparently fell asleep or something and the car hit the guardrail, then went out of control and flipped over. At least, that’s the story that was going around at the time. Best I recall, there were no witnesses.”

“No other cars involved?”

“Not as far as I know. It was called in by a tractor-trailer driver who came across the scene at some point after it happened.” He cocked his head to one side. “Did you know him?”

“No. I just saw his name in the file-Dylan’s file-and was curious, that’s all. The master-file list notes that Raymond had sketched the crime scene, but there’s no sketch in the file.”

“You mean the sketch that shows where everyone was at the time of the shooting?”

“I’m not sure what it was. I haven’t been able to find it. Likewise a report written by Melissa Lowery.”

“I worked maybe two or three cases with Lou when I first got out of training. He always drew things out, made it part of his report. He’d show where everyone was stationed, parked, standing, whatever. Put his whole account in pictures. It was pretty interesting, actually.” Andrew appeared to think for a minute. “I don’t remember ever seeing sketches that Lou drew in this file. Not ever. And like I said, I’ve gone through it a couple of times. Can’t say I remember a report from Lowery, either, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. At some point, they must have fallen out.”

“Must have.” She put the car in gear. “Thanks for carrying the files for me.”

“Anytime.” He stepped back to allow her to back out of the parking space. “Tell what’s-his-name I said hello.”

“It’s Evan,” she told him. “His name is Evan…”

“Sorry.” He shrugged, much as his brother had a few days earlier, and waved to her as she drove off.

“So, you think this guy is targeting homeless guys because he thinks he’s on some kind of a mission to clean up the streets?” Evan sat on the sofa, his bare feet propped on the coffee table.

“I think he has a vigilante mentality. Look, check out this letter he sent to the local papers.” Annie found the newspaper and read, “ ‘The city belongs to the people who pay the taxes that pay the police and the firemen and the city workers. I’m a street cleaner, just like them.’ ”

“Ugly.” He frowned. “Who thinks like that?”

“Some misguided soul in Denton, Ohio.” She yawned and closed the file cover. “How about your case, you ready to talk about it now?”

“I don’t know what else to tell you that you haven’t already read for yourself. I’m finding it confusing as hell.”

“It is confusing, but I still think you’re looking for two different people, Evan.”

“The killer is doing exactly the same things, in exactly the same manner. Rape the girl, slash the throat. Dump the body. Steal the shoes. The murders are identical.”

“Except for one very important difference. The victims. And you know what I always say.” She poked him in the ribs with her pen.

“Yeah, yeah. Know the victims, know the killer.”

“Are you humoring me?”

“Nope. That’s what you always say. And you’re usually right; at least, in my experience with you, that’s held true. I just don’t see how it could be two different killers. Especially since we haven’t released any of the details about the crimes. I just wish we had something-hair samples, DNA, something-that we could use to confirm one way or the other. We’ve kept the MO, the signature, all of the important things, under wraps. And as far as I know, there haven’t been any leaks.”

“Well, someone is talking. The second killer has to be someone close to the investigation.”

“You realize what you’re saying?” He bristled. “The only people close to the investigation are the cops working the case. I’ve known all these guys forever, since I joined the force in Lyndon. I’ve worked with every one of them at one time or another, either as a county detective or as a Lyndon cop. I can’t believe that any of these guys would kill a kid.”

“Someone’s killing them, Evan. And you of all people should know that killers don’t look like killers. They look like the rest of us.”

“I can’t argue with that, but I just don’t see any of these guys killing little girls. I couldn’t even narrow the list down to a few likely suspects, Annie.”

“It’ll be the person you least expect. It always is,” she said almost absently as she made notes on the yellow legal pad.

“So, you almost finished with your analysis?”

“Almost.” She nodded. “I won’t be too much longer. I want to get this e-mailed to the chief of police tonight.”

He sat up and began to lay the photos of the murdered girls side by side across the table.

“Those are your vics?” She looked up from her notes.

He nodded and continued setting out the pictures in order of the girls’ deaths.

Annie put her notes aside and sat next to him, studying the photos.

“It’s not the same guy, sweetie,” she said softly.

“Annie…”

“Look at these girls in their school uniforms, at the way they project such innocence. Now look at them through his eyes, at the way he’s left them, defiled. He’s ruined them. He’s taken something clean and pure and ravaged it. He’s stolen from them. He has tremendous power over them now. He’s definitely feeling very proud, very smug. He’s stolen something precious, and no one can stop him. No one is powerful enough to stop him.”

“You think this is mostly about power for him?”

“It is only about power. My guess is he works a low-level job where he’s in contact with people whom he perceives as socially and economically superior to him.”

“We all come in contact with people like that.”

“This is daily, this is close contact on a daily basis. He resents that he’s placed in a position of inferiority, of subservience, when he knows he’s morally and intellectually superior to all of them. That he’s forced to work for them, that his livelihood is dependent on people he thinks are less than he. That they can’t see his brilliance marks them all as fools. This is how he retaliates. He’s showing them who has the power. He’s showing them who’s really in charge.”

“And you don’t see that here?” Evan tapped on the photos of the last three victims.