“And why did he want to do that so badly?”

“She practically put out a hit on him.”

“Yeah, but so what? He likes attention. He’s been craving a challenging opponent.” I shook my head. “It wasn’t the reward money. It was the character assassination.”

Patrick didn’t get it. “Is it possible to assassinate the character of a serial killer?”

“It is in his mind. Remember-he’s a proper southern gentleman doing some kind of respectable, perhaps even sacred work. And then this woman goes on television and suggests that he’s a pervert. It’s an affront to his honor.”

Chief O’Bannon walked between us, a grim expression on his face. “They’re demanding a press conference, people. What can we tell them?”

“Stall,” I advised. “We need more time.”

“They’re very insistent.”

“Tell them to cool their heels.”

“That won’t cut it. In their view, we’ve let a serial killer snatch one of America’s most beloved television personalities. One who recently suffered a great personal loss-thanks to the same killer. All the news reports have been critical of us.”

“Okay, then promise them a conference-later. After we’ve had more time to sift through the evidence.”

He grunted. “Can I at least tell them whether we think Spencer is still alive?”

“There’s no corpse,” Patrick said. “Why bother taking her if he’s going to kill her?”

“He’s killed all the others.”

“But not right away,” I insisted. “There’s no reason to believe this will be different.”

“So there’s still a chance. If we move quickly.”

“But I wouldn’t say that to the press,” Patrick quickly interjected. And we all knew why. Because we didn’t want to be blamed if we didn’t find the killer in time to save her. As things stood, we weren’t even close.

“We’ve got to do something,” O’Bannon growled. “You bring Darcy out today?”

“No… I thought it would be best not to.”

O’Bannon nodded curtly. “He seemed pretty upset last night. Had to give him something to get him to sleep. Haven’t seen him that anxious in a while. You take him to an espresso bar?”

“No. He… saw something that bothered him.”

To my surprise, O’Bannon didn’t ask any more questions. Sighing heavily, he headed back toward the press corral.

Over by the smashed Chevy, I heard a cry. Either pain or exultation, I couldn’t tell. But a few moments later, I saw Tony Crenshaw running toward me.

“What?” I wasn’t going to get my hopes up, but his eyes were like Christmas lights. “What have you got?”

“You are going to love me so much,” Tony said, obviously pleased with himself. “You are going to fall down on your knees and kiss my feet. Perhaps even some more sensitive spots.”

I saw Patrick giving me a sidewise glance. “Cut the fantasy and tell us what you’ve got already.”

But he wasn’t giving it up that easily. “Most forensics would’ve missed it, of course. You do the outside of the car, sure. The upholstery. But how many would’ve bothered to check the floor mats? Especially with a guy who has been so scrupulous in the past?”

I grabbed him by the lapels. “Prints? Are we talking about prints?”

“It’s possible…”

“I’m not your joytoy, Tony. Don’t play with me. Have you got a print?”

“There’s definitely something there. I’ll take the mat back to the lab and try vacuum metal deposition. It’s great for lifting prints off plastic. I’ll get something for you.”

I couldn’t restrain myself. I pulled him closer and smacked him a big one, right on the lips. “But that’s as far as it goes,” I cautioned.

“Looks like there was a tussle,” Tony explained. “We found a few drops of blood in there that didn’t come from Spencer. I think she hurt him. He fell forward, his hand went down on the mat, he forgot to clean up. Maybe didn’t have time. The rental company tells me those mats were washed just before Spencer rented it, so…”

I couldn’t help myself. I kissed him again.

He arched an eyebrow. “Could we take this somewhere?”

I released his lapels. “Yeah, back to the lab. Now.”

She must’ve heard him coming. The steps leading to the basement were wooden and creaked when he stepped on them.

“Who is that? Let me out of here!”

The basement was dark, but he liked it that way. When he first moved in, he had been down almost every day, oiling hinges, wiping the walls with mildew remover, but at some point he had realized that was futile and foolish. He was denying the basement its true nature, its essential basementness, so to speak. Certainly the prophet would not have approved. So these days, he let things be what they were. As a result, the basement had acquired a distinctive odor, not noisome, but a lovely evocative mustiness. The air seemed thick and earthy; the walls bore a thin filmy layer of green growth.

He found Dr. Spencer in the alcove on the far side, strapped to the table, just as he had left her.

“You can’t get away with this,” she shouted. Her words echoed through the basement, reverberating off the stone walls. “I’ve had people following me everywhere I go.”

“Then where are they, madam?” he replied, smiling sweetly. “I’m afraid I find that statement lacking a certain credibility. You see, I am intimately familiar with all your security precautions. I struck at a time when your protection entrusted you to the custody of the rather poorly chosen and recently bifurcated Harv Bradford.”

Between the two of them, forming a partition between the alcove in which she lay and the rest of the basement, was a four-foot-tall brick wall.

“You’re the security man, aren’t you?” she said, staring at him. “Back at the hotel. The other one.”

“What a memory you have. Spectacular.”

“Let me tell you something, mister. You didn’t know half the precautions I was taking. I had eye-in-the-sky copters watching me. There’s a homing device in my shoe.”

“I don’t think so.”

“As soon as they zero in on my position, your ass-”

“Madam, you have been here more than twenty-four hours.”

She paused, her mouth sucking air. “But-I just-”

“You’ve had a nice long nap, courtesy of my favorite pharmaceutical. But I am forced to conclude that if anyone had the slightest notion where you were, they would have long since arrived.”

She was silent for a while. “What do you want? Are you going to strip me naked and… do whatever it is you do?”

He struggled to maintain control. “I have not removed your clothing because you are not now, nor could you ever be, an offering. And may I add that I have never assaulted or in any way behaved inappropriately with any of my offerings. Your public accusations were offensive and ungrounded.”

“You killed three girls!”

“That is correct, in a technical sense. But there was no sexual misconduct, my dear pseudo-doctor. I’m sure the police have conducted tests establishing that for a fact. They in all likelihood have shared that information with you. Nonetheless, you appeared in a public forum and made your vile accusations.” He paused. “A gentleman’s reputation is his stock in trade. You have impugned my personal integrity. For that, you must be punished.”

He had prepared the mortar earlier. He added some water from the sink, loosening it. He stirred it with the trowel. It was ready.

“I can’t believe this,” Spencer said. Her voice was hoarse from shouting and it had acquired an edge, but one born more of fear than of menace. “I’ve got a serial killer complaining that I tarnished his reputation.”

He slapped mortar down atop the partial wall, then pressed a brick into place. It held.

“I mean-don’t you see a certain irony in that?”

“I see that you understand nothing,” he said, applying another brick, then another. “I see that you categorize me with the insane, or those who kill for pleasure or sexual gratification. Insult upon insult.” Another brick. Then another. Then another.