“He holds it low. Probably has the stiletto up his sleeve until he needs it.” She stepped closer. “He always slips it in just below the rib cage.” She put her left hand flat against Nick’s abdomen to show him where and immediately she realized this was a mistake when she felt him shiver under her touch. Her eyes met his and she felt the heat rush to her face.

Thankfully exhaustion pushed her into professional mode. She took a step back as she moved her hand with the pen and her arm in the same motion the killer must use.

“He shoves the knife in at an upward angle. Usually pierces the heart. Sometimes the lungs. Sometimes both.”

Finished with the show and tell, she avoided his eyes and took her seat again. Waited for him to do the same. He was slow about joining her and she wanted to kick herself. There was obvious still too much between them. She glanced over at him. Wanted to tell him she couldn’t afford any of the emotion she was seeing in his face right now.

“Gino was a good guy,” he said, surprising her. “He didn’t deserve to die this way.”

She was wrong. The emotion wasn’t about her. Maybe she was a little disappointed that it wasn’t about her.

“He’s been killing two victims in each city. Usually within a period of twenty-four hours.” Maggie sat back. Ran her fingers through her hair. “Then he disappears. Gone. Like he never existed.” She looked at her wristwatch. “In less than fifteen hours he’s going to kill someone else.”

1:39 p.m.

He had been watching the old woman for over an hour. Following her around but keeping in the shadows and back far enough away that she’d never even noticed him. Though he wondered if she noticed much about anything around her.

He’d gotten close enough to hear her muttering. Not just talking to herself but arguing as if with some invisible friend. She had to abandon her shopping cart behind a Dumpster, tucking it away to hide it as best as she could. The snow made it too difficult for her to shove it over the crusted piles left by the snowplows. He almost helped her once. Wanting to touch the fringe of her gray knit hat to feel whether the fringe was actually part of the hat or actually her hair.

Her territory seemed to be within the Old Market area. Interesting, since he didn’t see any other homeless people without venturing several blocks of the cobble-stoned district. She wandered the streets quite fascinated by things no one else saw. Once he watched her stop abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and wave pedestrians around her to avoid stepping on something smashed in the snow. No one else stopped to give it a look. Most people ignored her or scowled and went wide.

That’s when he realized she had to be the next one. She was perfect. Someone no one would miss. She was virtually invisible to these bastards even as they had to walk around her as she protected whatever the precious item was that she found so fascinating. And suddenly he couldn’t wait. He wanted to cut her right now. Right here in the freezing cold sunny daylight in the middle of the crowd that couldn’t see her.

Except he hadn’t brought his knife. And so, he’d wait until tonight. His fingers fidgeted. He was feeling antsy.

He walked toward her. She was bent over, touching the object. He’d walk past and see what it was. He’d go back to his hotel suite. He’d enjoy the anticipation. He already knew where he could find her. And as he got closer he saw her wrapping her ragged knit gloves around the object that had captured her attention and sent her into protective mode. The object was a long icicle that had fallen from the awning above the sidewalk. A frickin’ icicle.

He smiled to himself as he passed by and glanced at her. Her eyes flitted up to meet his and he wanted to tell her that he’d see her later. That it would be his pleasure to watch the surprise in those same eyes as her life spilled out of her.

4:57 p.m.

It was already getting dark by the time Maggie and Detective Pakula started walking the streets. There were crowds gathered at the ice rink and around the outside mall that stretched several city blocks long. Tonight was the lighting ceremony when hundreds of thousands of lights in trees and bushes and along rooftops would be turned on, marking the beginning of the holiday season.

“We’ve pulled in everybody on this, looking and talking to people since five this morning,” he told her as they strolled the cobblestone streets, looking more like an old married couple than a couple of cops.

Pakula wore an old camouflage parka but nothing on his shaved head. Maggie kept on her leather jacket and added a red Huskers ballcap that Pakula had given her.

“It’ll help you fit in,” he told her about the cap.

She didn’t argue. She was getting restless. Exhaustion had given way to the adrenaline that had taken over. Too much time had passed. Why did she ever believe they’d find this guy? It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

She and Nick had wasted two whole hours pouring over the security tapes only to come up empty handed. At one point they saw Gino enter the frame. According to Nick it looked like he was headed around the corner to the front door where he always came to meet Pete, the Rockwood Building’s night security guard.

But then Gino stopped and turned as if someone had called to him. The camera didn’t record sound. They watched Gino cock his head. He grinned and said something before walking back in the direction of whoever had stopped him. He disappeared from the frame. Maggie didn’t say it but she knew Gino had most likely headed right over to his killer.

Nick was taking this man’s death personally and she didn’t quite understand. Maybe it was because it happened outside one of his buildings. He had wanted to come with her and Pakula but they stopped him. He told them he had a license to carry. Pakula told him to go get his hand looked at.

“You should have had stitches,” the detective told him, pointing to the wrapped hand that Maggie had noticed immediately but stopped herself from asking about. “You already bloodied up one of my crime scenes.”

Pakula bought a hot chocolate for Maggie and a coffee for himself. The steam felt good on her frozen cheeks. She wrapped her hands around the cardboard cup and let it warm her fingers. She only had thin knit gloves. Why did she always come to this part of the country unprepared for the weather?

“You two married?” An old woman came up from behind them. She was trying to push a shopping cart filled with an odd assortment of junk.

“No, we’re not married to each other,” Pakula answered. “How are you doing tonight? Do you have someplace warm?”

The woman didn’t look like she heard him. Instead she muttered something to herself. She struggled to hike the cart over the curb that was still snow covered. Pakula grabbed the front end and lifted it easily onto the sidewalk for her.

“They’ve got some extra beds over at Saint Gabriel’s,” he tried again.

This time she blew out a raspberry at him. “I don’t need no Saint Gabriel. Lydia and I have been taking care of each other for years.”

Both Pakula and Maggie looked around at the same time, looking for someone named Lydia. There was obviously no one with this woman. People went around them, even stepping into the street to do so.

“Can I help you find Lydia?” Pakula asked.

This time the woman stared directly into his eyes, her brow creasing under her dirty gray cap. She looked from him to Maggie then back at Pakula.

“You a cop?” she whispered.

Pakula was good but Maggie heard him clear his throat to cover his surprise.

“It’s okay,” the old woman reassured him, her face softening. She reached up and touched his arm, almost a grandmotherly gesture. “We’ve all heard about Gino.” She shook her head. “A damned shame.” Then she straightened and waved her hand like she was swatting at a fly. “Oh stop it, Lydia. You know who Gino was.”