“Hey, Will, it’s Annie. Got anything for me on those tattoos yet?”

Evan started up the engine, but she put a hand on his arm, silently asking him to wait. He turned off the engine.

“Can you send me all this via fax to… Evan, what’s the number of the new fax machine at your house?”

He told her and she repeated the number for Will.

She listened to Will for a few minutes longer, then said, “Would you repeat that?”

She scribbled quickly on a piece of paper she found in her purse.

“And you’re sure?” She hesitated, then said, “I wish I could remember why that sounds so familiar. I guess it’ll come to me. Give me a call if you find anything else. And thanks, Will. This is great. I owe you. Yeah, another one…”

“He’s identified the tattoos?”

“He found several other similar victims in Chicago. Three girls, all Hispanic. Cause of death was different from yours, though. These girls all died from gunshots to the head. All from the same gun.”

“More executions.”

“That’s what I thought, too, when he first said it. I’m wondering if these girls of yours would have been shot had there not been a serial killer in the same general geographic area. Making the kills look the same could have been simply a way to camouflage the hits.”

“What did he have to say about the tattoos?”

“This is really interesting. These girls in Chicago all had those little stars in the same place, top of the hip, left side. None of them had any identification, but one of them had some kind of dried bean seeds in a small vial on a cord around her neck.”

“Dried bean seeds?” Evan frowned.

“Right. The cop handling the investigation found that these beans apparently are grown in Central America.”

“Could he be more specific?”

“He mentioned a small country called Santa Estela as a possible source.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I have. And it took me a minute, but I just remembered where I heard the name.”

“You going to share that with me?”

“Connor was there, a few years ago. I remember overhearing him and Dylan talking about it.”

“Maybe he has a contact there who could help us to identify the tattoo.”

“I’ll ask him. I’ll e-mail him tonight.” She leaned back against the seat. “We can go now.”

“Thank you.” He turned the key in the ignition.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just thinking.”

“You’re thinking that if the kids from Chicago were from Santa Estela, maybe these girls-my girls-are, too.”

She nodded. “And wondering why they’re here, how they got here.”

“Want to skip the tour of the crime scenes for today and go straight to my place so you can use your computer?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I’m itching to find something concrete on this case.”

“Will is going to fax over everything he has, including the name and phone number of the cop in Chicago who worked this case.”

“I can’t wait to talk to him.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Once they were back at the townhouse, Evan went directly to the fax machine and Annie to her laptop. She turned it on, and typed her message.

TO: CShields00721

From: AMMccall00913

Re: Santa Estela

Connor, strange development on a case here in PA. Tattoos on the vics found to be identical to those found on three vics in Chicago. Young girls, one of whom appears to have a connection traced back to Central America, possibly Santa Estela. Do I recall correctly that you had spent some time there? Any contacts remain?

A

She hit send and waited, but the immediate response she’d hoped for didn’t come. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.

In the meantime, she wanted to see the fax Will had sent Evan. Maybe the Chicago cop had found answers to the very questions Evan was now asking. Maybe he could give them a lead. Maybe this was the thread that, once pulled, would help Evan to send the girls home.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” Evan asked Annie over breakfast early on Monday morning.

“First thing I want to do is try Will again.” She sat across from him at the small table next to the only window in his narrow kitchen.

“Checking to see if he found out anything else about the tattoos?”

“No, he’ll contact me as soon as he has something on that. I want to ask him about Melissa Lowery.” She sipped at her coffee. “Have I mentioned her to you before? She’s a former agent who was on the scene the night Dylan was shot. She wrote an account of the events of that night, but the report isn’t in the file.”

“I think you did mention her. Did you ask around the Bureau?”

“No one seems to know where she went after she left. Which is odd in itself, since she was with the Bureau for seven years. She must have had friends.”

“I guess you didn’t ask the right people. Someone knows where she is. Did you check with HR? Wouldn’t they have a forwarding address?”

“Privacy issues. They don’t give out anyone’s home address.”

“So how would Will be able to find her?”

Annie laughed. “No one really knows how Will finds out anything. He just has a knack with computers and uncanny instincts. If anyone can track her down, it will be him.”

She rested her elbow on the windowsill and gazed out.

“You need a little help finishing that deck?”

“Maybe. Depends on who’s volunteering.”

“I could work on it with you next weekend, if you get the boards that go across the frame.” Her left index finger tapped on the window glass.

“Decking.”

“What?”

“Those boards that go across the frame are called decking.” He downed the last of his coffee and stood. “If you really want to, we can work outside next weekend. If it rains, we can work inside.” He leaned down to kiss her neck.

She smiled and reached up her hand to touch his face.

“Either way, we win.”

“Either way,” he agreed.

“What’s that I see going on out there by the fence?” She tapped on the glass again. “Looks as if someone has been digging.”

“I started to dig up that garden bed for your roses, but I didn’t get around to finishing it.”

“Maybe we could put that on the list for next weekend, too.”

“Hmm. Build the deck. Plant the garden.” He grinned as he walked to the sink to rinse out his cup. “Sounds like what the married guys in the office call a ‘honey-do’ weekend.”

“It’ll be good for both of us to spend some time outside, do a little manual labor. I’m up for it.”

“I’ll make a point next week to pick up the rest of the material for the deck. We’ll start early on Saturday and just work through until it’s finished. Or until one of us falls over.”

“That would have to be you. I’m in great shape.” She tilted her head to one side. “Is that my phone ringing or yours?”

“Mine. And it’s upstairs on the dresser.” He bolted from the room and took the steps to the second floor two at a time.

Annie cleared the table and stacked the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. As small as Evan’s townhouse was, she loved it. It was cozy and homey. With just a little paint on the cabinets, maybe lose that old wallpaper and add some textured paint to the walls, put in a new tile floor, the kitchen could be absolutely charming. She smiled to herself, knowing that such a kitchen would exist only in her mind. Evan would never think to do it on his own, and she’d never suggest it to him. It was, after all, his house.

She went to the back door and looked out onto the small yard. The deck would take up almost all of the space, but there was still room for those roses. She opened the door and stepped out, careful to avoid the box of nails and scraps of wood he’d left on the porch, and walked to the back of the yard where she’d planted the peonies. They hadn’t bloomed this year, might not bloom for a few more years. She’d heard they were temperamental and didn’t like being moved. She was thinking about making a stop at the local nursery to look for something that might bloom now when she heard the back door slam.