She was more than happy driving her truck. Practical. That was her.

Sam must have simply let her phone die. Taylor herself had done it herself the other day. All this worry, the tension; she was just on edge, seeing ghosts everywhere. Typical of Copeland, too, to send her off in a rush. He wanted her to react, not to think things through. This was all a game to him, one that took lives to satisfy his sick sense of humor.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Mitchell’s men were in place, then entered the building and went straight to Kris. The bubbly blonde was chatting on the phone, obviously on a personal call. She had a smile on her face a mile wide, her finger twirling a lock of hair at her shoulder. Taylor tamped down her annoyance. It was before hours, there was no reason Kris shouldn’t be on the phone with a personal call.

When she saw Taylor approaching, she murmured something, and placed the phone to her chest to block the conversation from whomever she was speaking to.

“Morning, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for Sam.”

“She’s long gone, I’m afraid. She scooted out of here before I made it in this morning. I had some reports to finish, so instead of staying late last night I decided to come in early today and get them done. Did you try calling her?”

“She’s not answering her phone. Kris, you’re sure she’s not here? Her car is out front.”

Kris’s forehead creased. “Yeah, I’m sure. She was having trouble with the car last night. She was going to run out for dinner at 10:00 or so and it wouldn’t start. She probably had Simon pick her up. I’m glad you mentioned it. I should call a tow truck for her. She didn’t leave a message about it but I know what shop they use.”

Taylor’s heart returned to her throat.

“Kris, hang up the phone.”

Kris didn’t hesitate—the look on Taylor’s face must have been enough. She set the phone in its cradle without saying goodbye.

“What’s wrong, Lieutenant?”

“We don’t know where Sam is. Have you been in her office, or through the whole building yet this morning?”

She came out from around the desk with her badge out. “No, but let’s go look. My God, I hope nothing’s happened to her. Did you call Simon?”

Kris crossed the lobby and swiped her key card through the access slot. It unlocked and she yanked open the door to the executive offices. Taylor followed close on her heels. They jogged down the hallway to Sam’s office. The door was cracked. Taylor pushed it open. Empty.

“I talked to Simon. He doesn’t know either, but don’t get in touch with him just yet. He said Sam had the overnight shift, then a doctor’s appointment,” Taylor said.

“Yeah, her first big checkup. They were going to do an ultrasound this morning.”

Oh, my God. Sam. She took a deep breath. Stay calm. You’re going to find her. She’s going to be okay.

Taylor made a mess of Sam’s desk looking for her datebook. “Where’s her schedule? I can’t find her Day Runner.”

“It’s online now. We’re trying to go paperless. She wanted to set an example.”

“I assume it’s on her computer?”

Kris nodded.

“Pull it up. I need to look at it. Then you go to the autopsy suite, check with whoever’s down there now.”

Kris sat at Sam’s desk, trying to type. Her hands were shaking, little wispy breaths leaking out of her mouth. She was closing in on a panic attack. Taylor finally reached over her shoulder and grabbed her hands.

“Listen, relax. Breathe. We’re going to find her. She’s going to be just fine. I promise.”

There were tears in Kris’s voice. “I hope so. She’s the best. Lieutenant, I’m sorry, this is taking forever. She shut her computer down last night. She never does that. We always put them in sleep mode, password protected, of course. But she’s turned her whole damn system—”

“Shoot, Kris. Stop. Stop typing. Don’t touch anything. Back out of here, shut and lock Sam’s office and access the schedule from your computer.”

Kris listened, stood quickly and turned to Taylor. “What’s the matter?”

“You said Sam never turns off her computer.”

“No, never. It uses less energy to keep them in sleep mode, it’s a part of our green initiative.”

“In case we need to dust for prints or Hemascein the area for DNA, we need to keep it as undisturbed as possible.”

“Oh, God,” Kris sobbed.

Taylor took the girl by the shoulders. “Kris, I need you. You have to keep it together for me. Go back to your desk, bring up Sam’s calendar. If there’s anything else you think of that might be relevant, tell me. Who she was with last night, too. I need a list of everyone who was on shift, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Kris swallowed hard and nodded.

“Good. I’m going to head over to the autopsy suite myself and have a quick look around, make sure she isn’t over there lost in a case. I’ll be back in a minute.”

More time, leaking away.

Taylor watched Kris head back through the door to the lobby and her desk. She swiped her own key card to enter the autopsy suite. It was eerily silent. The sun shone through the skylights, making the metal accoutrements along the table glow in the early morning light. There was no one there. No one alive, that is.

Panic struck her. She closed her eyes for a moment, braced herself, then slowly walked into the hall, to the stainless-steel door that housed the body cooler. Bodies were kept systematically stored, laid out on the wheeled tables that were used for autopsies, in their body bags. If things got crowded, they could be stacked vertically.

The door opened with a hiss, refrigerated air spilling into the corridor. A row of about ten bodies greeted her, all nestled in their black casings like caterpillars preparing to shed their chrysalis, their souls hardening into afterlife’s wings. A slow day.

She tore through them, ripping open the bags, breaking a zipper on the third, glancing at faces, seeing nothing while she desperately searched the chilled bodies for her best friend.

The end of the row now, the last bag. She took three deep breaths, then firmly grabbed the zipper and pulled.

A man. It was a man.

Relief overwhelmed her.

She’d never been so happy to see a dead man before.

Forty-One

Baldwin paced his office nervously, waiting for Kevin to return his call. He hated agreeing to split from Taylor. He didn’t like letting her out of his sight right now, not with this maniac so close. He glanced out the window; the bright morning sun disappeared behind a gray cloud that looked ominous. He could smell snow when he’d crossed the parking lot half an hour before. Just what they needed, a storm on top of this mess.

The idea that Taylor had about the list of figures on the CD was proving to be quite fortuitous. A quick search through the databases showed that the numbers the Pretender had sent them were in fact license plates, and all three plates were registered to car rental companies. Kevin was searching through each database with the appropriate agencies, trying to find out where the cars were.

It had been over twenty minutes. What was taking so long?

Baldwin glanced at his phone again, willing it to ring.

Nothing.

He sat at his desk and opened his laptop. Surfed through his news sites. Felt his stomach drop.

Son of a bitch.

The story was everywhere. Headlines screamed:

Serial Killers on the Loose

The Country Is Under Attack

Do You Know Where Your Children Are?