“That would explain the last-name change, but not the first.”

“You think she’s hiding from something?”

“Or someone. Yes, it’s possible. She might just slam the door in my face once I tell her who I am.”

“Assuming that she does speak with you, do you think there’s anything in that report that will tell you something you don’t already know?”

“Probably not,” she admitted, “but it bothers me, that her report disappeared, then she disappeared. Then the other agent whose report is missing, Lou Raymond, is killed in a freak car accident. It’s making me uneasy, the more I think about it. It just seems… weirdly coincidental.”

“And anyone who knows you, knows you don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Have you ever met an FBI agent who did?”

“Now that you mention it, I guess I haven’t.”

He was silent for a moment, and she could almost see him, one elbow leaning on the desk in his office, the other resting on the arm of the chair. He’d have his shoes off and his shirt unbuttoned to the third button and his shirttails out. The familiarity of the image brought a smile to her face.

“So what are you going to do now?” she asked.

“Right now, I’m going to bed and praying to God the phone doesn’t ring so that I can get one good night’s sleep this week. Then, at the crack of dawn, I’m going to go into the office and copy the file on my girls, make an extra set of photos and lab reports to take to Chicago. I want to give Detective Manley a copy of everything I have on this guy. I’m hoping between the two of us…”

“You’re hoping to find what you need.”

“Exactly. I want to find whatever it is we need to catch this bastard. Bastards, I should say. There are obviously several at work here.”

“In the long run, that should make it easier to solve. The more of them there are, the more likely it is that one of them will screw up eventually.”

“One could only hope.” He yawned. “Sorry, babe.”

“No apologies necessary. Get some sleep, Evan. I’ll be turning in, too, in a few minutes.”

“Wish you were here, Annie.”

“So do I.” She stifled a yawn of her own. “But I’ll be there by Friday afternoon, Friday night at the latest. We should have a lot to talk about while we’re working on that deck.”

“Well, here’s hoping we both find the answers we’re looking for. You in Montana, me in Chicago…”

Annie hung up the phone and looked for her glasses so she could read the fax. The letter was exactly what she’d been led to expect.

DEAR FOX NEWS PEOPLE:

I THINK YOU NEED TO TALK TO D.A. SHERIDAN IN AVON COUNTY AND ASK HIM WHY HE DIDN’T TELL YOU ABOUT THE LETTER I SENT TO HIM EARLIER IN THE WEEK. I TOLD HIM THAT I DID NOT KILL THOSE OTHER THREE GIRLS-YOU KNOW ABOUT THOSE THREE GIRLS, RIGHT? THE ONES NO ONE KNOWS WHO THEY ARE? I DID NOT KILL THEM AND DO NOT LIKE THAT EVERYONE IS SAYING I DID. THERE IS A COPYCAT KILLER IN AVON COUNTY AND NO ONE IS LOOKING FOR HIM. THE GIRLS HE KILLS ARE NOT LIKE MY GIRLS. ANY IDIOT COULD TELL YOU THAT.

ALSO, I TOLD D.A. SHERIDAN THAT I WANTED TO BE REFERRED TO AS THE SCHOOLGIRL SLAYER. DID HE TELL YOU THAT?

I DIDN’T THINK SO. SINCE HE DIDN’T TELL YOU ANYTHING, I AM FORCED TO TELL YOU MYSELF. I THINK HE THINKS HE IS PLAYING A GAME WITH ME. HE SHOULD KNOW THAT THIS IS NOT A GAME.

I THINK YOU ARE SMARTER THAN HE IS AND WILL CALL ME BY MY NEW NAME.

THANK YOU.

THE SCHOOLGIRL SLAYER

More posturing, more of the same demand for attention. Interesting that he hasn’t mentioned any new kills, though, and has made no threats.

Annie read through the letter again.

He has to know that the police are closing in on him. Maybe that’s why he’s not being too cocky. He’s just setting the record straight, as he sees it, and trying to take full advantage of his fifteen minutes.

“Your days as a free man are coming to an end, buddy,” she murmured as she folded the fax and tossed it onto her desk.

In the morning, she’d call Sheridan and discuss the case with him, give him the benefit of her thoughts on the matter. Don’t react publicly. Don’t do anything, because he’ll be in custody within twenty-four hours. That was the reaction of both her gut and her intellect, but Sheridan would do whatever he felt was in his best interest. Only he knew what that was.

Annie locked up her house and turned off the lights. She got into bed and searched for the remote control for the TV on the stand opposite her bed. She found it under her pillow and tried to remember when she might have put it there. She watched the news until she fell asleep.

She slept later than she’d intended the next morning, and when she awoke, the television was still on. She turned up the volume while she washed her face in the bathroom steps away from her bed, and had just started to brush her teeth when she caught scraps of dialogue. She stuck her head around the corner, her toothbrush still in her mouth, in time to see a handcuffed man being helped into a police car.

“… who, according to detectives here in Avon County is the self-proclaimed Schoolgirl Slayer, apprehended early this morning by county detectives…”

The camera zoomed in for a close-up of a man with thinning brown hair and glasses, wearing a polo shirt with some kind of logo on it. Annie got as close to the screen as she could, but still couldn’t make out the writing.

When the phone rang, she knew it would be Evan.

“Do you ever get tired of being right?” he asked.

“This one wasn’t so tough. I figured once you narrowed the field, he’d be easy to spot.”

“Can you guess who spotted him?”

“Cahill.”

He swore softly under his breath and she laughed out loud.

“Miranda has a lot of experience. This is far from being her first serial-killer case. They sent her because she has an uncanny knack for seeing things that other people miss,” she said. “Are you going to tell me who and how, or do I have to hang up and get the details from the TV?”

“His name is Albert Vandergris. He is, just as you had predicted, thirty-five years old and he works for the landscaper who did the lawns for all the victims’ families. Has worked for them, cutting lawns, for twelve years.”

“Sounds good so far,” she told him, “but it wasn’t a prediction.”

“Right. Anyway, Jackie called the owner of the landscaping company yesterday, set it up to talk to his employees before they started for work around seven this morning. All the crews report in by six, get the day’s assignments, pick up the trucks and their equipment. So Jackie shows up with the three from the FBI and a few other detectives, and the owner explained to his crews what was going on. He had all the guys waiting there in the barn and starts calling the men up, one by one, to speak with Jackie. And while she’s talking to workers, Cahill wanders out of the barn and around the back. Who do you think she finds trying to slip out the back door?”

“Albert.”

“You’re really good at this, aren’t you.”

“Yes, I am. So Miranda nabs him and brings him in?”

“Not until she and Albert had a little chat.”

“And she managed to get him to confess.”

“Yeah, she did.” Evan’s voice held a touch of awe. “She told him she’d read the letter he’d written to the news station and pointed out the grammatical errors.”

“And he got his back up and began to argue with her?”

“How do you know all this? You already talk to her this morning?”

“No. But she did this once before, in Indiana. Almost the exact same scenario.” Annie laughed again. “But let me guess, Jackie is going for the credit here?”

“I’m betting there will be a press conference by noon this morning, complete with a carefully worded statement, prepared and read by the district attorney, praising the work of the county detectives, especially lead detective Weller, and thanking the FBI for their cooperation. I’m almost sorry I won’t be here for it.”