Nashville’s skyline rolled into Taylor’s view, the lights of the Batman Building glowing in the darkness, the new Pinnacle tower with its tiny branding sign, so understated. Blue, red and yellow lights reflected off the Cumberland River as they drove across the Shelby Street Bridge, the colors mingling with the dark water, rippling and shimmering in a seductive dance.

Baldwin drove them straight to her office at the Criminal Justice Center. She’d called the team in, too, rousting them from their warm beds. McKenzie met them in the Homicide offices, yawning, with coffees and a homemade chai tea for Taylor courtesy of his partner Hugh. Baldwin accepted one of the coffees and peeled off from the group, went to one of the interrogation rooms to make some phone calls. Marcus rolled in five minutes later looking like he might not have gone to bed yet. Only Lincoln was impeccably dressed, looking sharp in a crisp white Armani shirt tucked into darkwashed Seven jeans with black tasseled loafers, topped with a dark purple suede jacket.

“Clotheshorse,” McKenzie said to him as he handed over the steaming cup of coffee.

“I could help you sometime. We could go shopping. The poindexter look went out a few years ago.”

“What, you want to be my girlfriend now?”

“You already have Hugh for that, sugar.”

“He’s my wife, dumb ass. Husbands don’t go shopping with their wives. That’s what they save for their mistresses.”

“Ouch,” Marcus said, laughing. “He got you there, Linc.”

“Boys,” Taylor warned. “Play nice, or Mommy will take all your toys away. Thank Hugh for the chai, Renn. It’s delicious, as always.”

McKenzie shoved Lincoln’s hand away from his cup of coffee, just saving it from being doused in cream. “I will. He says you owe him dinner.”

Taylor smiled at them. She was happy to see McKenzie fitting in so well with Marcus and Lincoln. He was a very capable detective, and she knew he’d earned their respect on that front. He’d earned hers, too, that was why she’d brought him on as a permanent member of the team. But respect and friendship were two very different things. The three seemed to have bonded quite well. Which was good. She could stop worrying about it. Maybe Fitz would come back to Homicide, too. Lord knew she’d take him back in a heartbeat if he were willing. Becoming the collateral damage of a serial killer wouldn’t be an easy thing for him to put away; he could take his twenty and run off forever. He’d been considering doing just that when he’d been kidnapped—he and Susie had been on a decision vacation, planning out their future.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. The loss he must be feeling overwhelmed her—she only knew Susie casually and she was torn up about her death. She hated that he was lying alone in the hospital. She just wanted to go back to Vandy and hug him, just so he knew she loved him. Later. She’d go tomorrow. He’d kill her if he knew she was fretting about him instead of focusing on the task at hand.

The Homicide office was crowded with the overnight shift, so Taylor led them to the conference room. As she turned on the lights, her cell rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but answered it anyway. There was too much happening to miss any opportunity to learn something new about the case. She vaguely recognized the voice on the other end.

“Lieutenant Jackson, this is Paul Friend. I’m a producer at Fox News—we actually worked together the last time you were on, with Kimberley? During the Snow White case?”

Ah, that was it. Paul Friend had produced the segment, had been the voice in her ear instructing her of breaks and fresh camera shots. “Yes, Paul. How are you?”

“Awake at this ungodly hour, unfortunately. We’ve gotten an unconfirmed report about a murder victim. Make that two victims. Out in San Francisco. Staged to look exactly like the Zodiac Killer’s first kill. A letter was sent to the Chronicle and everything. Turns out the victims were participants on a blog called Felon E, and my sources tell me you’ve been talking to the owner of the blog. We’re running the story during the morning show. Would you be willing to confirm for us?”

“Confirm what?”

“That this anonymous blogger knew the Zodiac Killer was picking victims from the blog and didn’t share that information with the police, or warn the other participants? Oh, and I should mention, we had another set of murders here in New York that looks strangely like the Son of Sam case. The men who were shot were also frequent commenters on the Felon E blog. And just so happens there was a note left near the bodies that said, and I quote, ‘There are other Sons out there, God help the world.’ Since I don’t think David Berkowitz has managed to escape from prison…”

Oh, crap.

“Sorry, man. I don’t know the first thing about it.”

“You don’t? Because I would think you of all people could understand the need to warn people if a copycat killer is on the loose. Especially since you may know exactly who is responsible. Come on, Lieutenant. Just between us, off the record. After your involvement with the Snow White case, and your attendance at the massacre in North Carolina yesterday morning, it’s obvious what’s happening. Listen, I’ve been watching things. I know the Snow White’s apprentice got away. He’s out there, and he’s been quiet for too long. This feels like him. You have to admit that, at least.”

“You’re making some pretty big assumptions there, Mr. Friend.”

Friend was quiet for a moment. “Lieutenant, we’re on the same side here. I want to help you catch these guys. See real justice done. Who knows how many of them are out there?”

“I don’t know anything. I’m sorry. Seriously, Paul, you’re sharing new information with me, not the other way around.”

“You don’t want to be like this, Lieutenant. You want to work with me. I can help you.”

“Really, Paul, I haven’t heard anything about it. Sorry. You’ll have to double-source somewhere else. Have a good night. Morning. Whatever.”

She hung up and turned to the guys. “We need to move, now.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You just lied. Naughty, naughty.”

“Yes, well, you can spank me later. We need to save Colleen Keck’s ass first. Who knows about her calling in outside of us? Dispatch?”

“No one that I know of. Lincoln talked to her, he called you.”

“We might have a leak, so pay attention to anyone who’s showing an interest in this case. Let’s find out what Ms. Keck has managed to uncover.”

Thirty-One

To: troy14@ncr.tr.com

From: 44cal@ncr.ss.com

Subject: Charleston, WV

Dear Troy,

Rocking in the free world.

44

“I could do it right here. Right now.

“Fucking McDonald’s. Happy, nasty children playing. I’ve got the AK, it’s loaded and ready to go. I could just spray them all. That would get their attention.”

Not such a good idea, homey. There aren’t enough. You need more. Many, many more.

He counted them—fourteen. His rancor subsided. The angel was right, fourteen wasn’t enough. He needed to make it a proper mass killing. Like that rag head down in Texas. He put on quite a show, but the dumb fucker got himself shot and was paralyzed. No, suicide by cop wouldn’t work. He didn’t want to die, not now, at least. He had things he wanted to do. Books to read. Especially that, and if he managed a death penalty case, he’d have years to fill.