He turned and strode back toward Deidre’s place. “Have you searched the premises yet?”

Deke nodded. “We’ve got officers going through her room and the back end of the house, and then they’ll move into the living area. Georgia is still working the kitchen. She’s dusting for fingerprints now.”

Alex imagined Leah’s pale face and the very faint scar that ran down her cheek. It had darkened the longer they sat in the car. He hadn’t noticed it on their date. No doubt she used a special makeup to hide it. “She’s rattled. But she had a good command of the facts.”

“Does she have any theories?” Deke asked.

“Deidre told Leah the divorce wasn’t easy. Her car was keyed. It won’t be hard to find her husband and pay him a visit.”

“Regardless of what she did, I want her killer found,” Deke said. “I want to know what she was doing before all this happened.”

“Understood.”

Deke eyed Alex. “If I didn’t know you, I’d say this didn’t affect you at all.”

Alex arched a brow. “You’re more emotional than I ever was.” His voice monotone, he might as well have been reciting the alphabet. “You hide it well, but it’s there, boiling below the surface. But for me, emotion has never been a significant factor when I’m on a case. It clouds my judgment.”

Deke’s eyes blazed darker. “RoboCop has nothing on you, Alex.”

“That’s the perfect description for Alex since Miller’s Falls,” Georgia said as she exited the kitchen. She’d stripped off her Tyvek suit and booties and now wore her khakis and a long-sleeved, collared forensics shirt. She still wore rubber gloves. “But my all-time favorite Alex description is ‘Iceman.’”

Alex didn’t like references to Miller’s Falls and refused to acknowledge them. Instead, he flipped through a mental catalogue. “Should we share some of the nicknames we had for you?”

She shrugged. “Carrot top, daywalker, ginger. Give it your best shot, bro. Mine are hair-related. Yours stem from a much deeper place.”

If outsiders were eavesdropping on their conversation now, they’d peg them all as heartless and unfeeling. But jokes and jibes at times like this eased the pressure valve on explosively deep emotions.

“You’re the only person I know who can take your emotions, put them in a box, and lock them away until you need them. And, I might add, you need them almost never.”

“Don’t forget agent orange,” Alex offered.

Georgia stuck out her tongue.

Alex only tolerated this kind of guff from Georgia. She was a pain in the ass, but, as he and his brothers often noted, she was their pain in the ass. “How many knife wounds did you count, Georgia?” Alex asked.

Her lips flattened in a stark line. “At least a dozen, but there could be more.”

“I would say this is a case of overkill,” Alex said. “It wasn’t just enough to stab her once or twice, which would have done the job, but the killer stabbed her at least twenty times. Legs, arms, the face several times. This attack carries all the hallmarks of rage. This killing was personal.”

“She’s arrested and pissed off a lot of very bad guys over the years.”

“And, so far, the killer hasn’t left any trace evidence,” Georgia said.

“Nothing?” Deke asked.

“If you plan it right, you won’t leave evidence,” Georgia said. “All cops know about Tyvek suits.”

“So it could be Deidre’s soon-to-be ex-husband, Tyler Radcliff?” Deke asked.

“Statistics suggest Radcliff, but time and evidence will tell,” Georgia said. “There’s always something.”

“When will you have a report?” Alex asked.

“Need time to sort, bro. Will keep you posted.”

“I expect this case closed,” Deke said.

“It will be.” Alex moved past Georgia into the kitchen to stare at what remained of the blood evidence.

Not only was there blood on the floor but it had also splattered the walls and the ceiling. A thin red spray of blood indicated the killer had struck an artery. And the dots and dashes of blood on the back wall had flicked off his knife as he drew it back before plunging it again.

This killer would have been covered in blood. There’d be no way to escape unmarked. But the blood trail stopped outside the back door. Georgia’s theory of a Tyvek suit made sense.

He opened the refrigerator and found it undisturbed. Stocked with three bottles of white wine and one red, cheese, eggs, and a loaf of bread. Its clean, nearly unused surfaces glistened. A check of the cabinets revealed standard inexpensive dishes that might be stocked in a rental. Made sense.

“Georgia, when do you estimate the time of death?”

“About ten last night.”

Alex looked out the back door and noticed it backed up to the woods. A killer could easily have come through the brush undetected. Deidre’s town house was an end unit, and there was a clear path from the back door, around the unit, and up to the parking lot. Easily accessible.

He moved out the back door and walked down the stairs.

“Footprints?”

“It was blistering cold last night and the ground was rock solid.”

“So no footprints?”

“Blood smudges by the back door. I think the killer went toward the woods and stripped off whatever protective gear he was wearing. We’ve got a scent dog coming.”

“Fingerprints?”

“Lots, but I don’t know who they belong to. I’ve checked all around the outside of the door as well as the countertops, the cabinet handles, and the refrigerator door handle. I pulled a few good thumbprints from the counter. But if my suit theory holds true, he’d have been wearing gloves.”

“You’re going to want to see this,” Deke called out from outside the kitchen.

Alex turned and moved into the living room, where a uniformed officer knelt by a coffee table. He watched as the officer, with gloved hands, removed what appeared to be a listening device mounted to the underside of the table.

All the personnel in the room grew quiet as the officer rose and held it out for Georgia to inspect.

She took the small device in her hands and studied it closely. “Someone has been listening to Deidre. This device is wireless and has a range of about a mile. I’ve heard recordings made by such gadgets, and they emit a crystal-clear sound. Whoever was listening would have clearly heard Deidre in this room.”

“Keep your voices down while we need to search the rest of the house,” Deke said, lowering his voice. “My first choice would be the bedroom, another favorite spot for creeps who like to listen.”

Alex pulled on a fresh set of gloves before crossing to Georgia. He held out his open palm, “May I?”

Raising a brow, she handed it to him, whispering. “So polite.”

Alex ignored the comment and inspecting the listening device, said quietly, “This isn’t cheap. And it’s sophisticated. Can also be purchased on countless Internet sites.”

“Stalking made easy,” Georgia quipped.

“Soon-to-be ex-husband?”

“Top of my list.”

Georgia glanced back at the kitchen as emotion flashed in her eyes. We’ve got to figure this out. We’ve got to.

Alex laid his hand on her shoulder. “He’s already caught. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Chapter Seven

Monday, January 16, 11:45 A.M.

Leah’s hands trembled as she tried to insert her key in the front door. She fumbled with her keys and then dropped them. Muttering an oath, she picked them up and finally got the key in the lock. She undid the dead bolt and hurried inside. Without hesitating, she locked the door behind her. Beyond tired, her nerves were shot.

A glance out the front window and she saw the cop car parked across the street. She drew in a steadying breath, trying to break the bands of tension in her chest. The cop would be Alex’s doing. She’d been as careful and controlled as she could be when she’d spoken to him, but he’d sensed more lingering in the silence between her careful sentences.