“God, Simari, sorry. That’s awful,”

“Yes, well. It’s not your problem. I actually came to tag along on your warrant. Wade requested Max and I ride along.”

“Are you up for it? You’ve been on shift all night?”

“I am. It’s all good. We’ll rest after.”

“So Marcus, we have the warrant?” Taylor asked.

“Signed, sealed and delivered. Mr. Johnson was the guest of the county last night.”

“What about Susan Norwood, the girl who calls herself Ember?”

“Released into her parents’ custody at midnight.”

Taylor slammed her hand against the desk. “Shit. I wanted her held. What happened?”

Marcus shook his head. “Nothing to charge her with. Sneaking into a boy’s hospital room wasn’t enough. Miles Rose, slippery bastard, talked her right out of the cuffs.”

Taylor chewed on her lip for a moment. “I want an officer on her at all times. She’s involved in this.”

Marcus waved his hand at a pile of papers, what she assumed were the guardian orders. “Already done. Juri Edvin passed an uneventful night at Vandy. They think he’ll be ready to be released into custody tomorrow. Lincoln’s in, he’s still working with the video-sharing sites.”

“Excellent. Thanks for running all that down for me. McKenzie, what time is Ariadne supposed to be here?”

“The escort is supposed to bring her back at 10:00 a.m.”

“Then let’s get moving. Simari, Marcus, you’re with us.”

They left a few minutes later. Taylor drove, McKenzie rode next to her. Marcus was in the backseat, working his phone. Simari followed in her patrol car, Max sticking his nose out the open window, a channel of crisp, fresh air running straight up his black nostrils.

Rush hour was ending, but the streets were still congested with latecomers and two fender-benders. The ride up to Joelton would normally take thirty minutes; they’d already been gone an hour and Taylor was getting frachetty. She hated traffic.

Lincoln called just as they took the exit off the highway. Marcus spent a few minutes listening, then slapped his phone shut.

“Good news,” Marcus said “One of the video sharing sites found a match to the address. They’re tracking it down now.”

Taylor looked in the rear view at him. “What do you mean, a match to the address?”

“Remember Lincoln said yesterday that there was a ghost in the IP address that showed him the uploads were being rerouted? There were multiple IP addresses for the uploads, but he’s found a pattern.”

“Honestly, no. That one slipped by me.”

“Well, there’ve been other videos posted by the person who posted the original video. They’re tracking the IP addresses now. They think they’ll have something concrete by noon.”

“Big Brother is watching,” McKenzie said wryly.

The morning had become glaring and hot. Taylor slipped on her sunglasses. She looked back at Marcus again, amused by the excessive floppiness of his brown hair this morning. The kid hadn’t slept much, looked like when he did, it was face-first. “Well, thank goodness for Big Brother in this case, because it may be our only credible lead. Nothing showed up on Juri Edvin’s or Susan Norwood’s computers, I take it?”

“Susan’s hasn’t been looked at-her parents are being a bit difficult. But the Edvins were quite forthcoming, dropped Juri’s laptop off with Lincoln late last night. He didn’t find any links, but he’s still looking. The kid was into all kinds of crazy stuff though. His history reads like a who’s who of creeps and illegal stuff-some bondage footage, a guide to bomb making, cyanide poisoning, neck breaking. He’s studying violence, and violent means of death. He fits the profile we have to a T”

“If we can tie him to Barent we’ll be set. Any correspondence between the two?”

“Not that we’ve found yet. We dumped his texts and are going through them, but that’s going to take a while.”

“Anything off the personal security video cameras at any of the houses?”

“The only one that had a camera was the Norwoods’, but it was turned off. The rest were pointed away from the scenes, so nothing of use.”

“Well, if little Miss Ember was sneaking out at night to see her boyfriend. Thorn, she may have jury-rigged the camera to cover her tracks.”

“We’ll have to ask the Norwoods to get the whole story. The security firm said the camera was turned off sometime during the first week of September because Mrs. Norwood felt it too intrusive.”

“Too intrusive? I will never understand why people spend oodles of money on these elaborate alarm systems then don’t use them correctly.”

“Maybe Mrs. Norwood was aware of her daughter’s proclivity for running around after hours and approved,” McKenzie said.

“Do any parents approve of their child seeking nocturnal activities?” Marcus asked.

Taylor glanced at him in the rear view. “You’d be surprised, I’ve seen parents do crazy things. If the Edvins were feeling so terrorized by their son, what’s to say the Nor-woods weren’t feeling that from their daughter? Maybe it was self-preservation.”

“Do you think she could kill her own brother?”

“I don’t know, Marcus. I just don’t know.”

McKenzie pointed to an ornate mailbox. “Hey, this is it.”

Taylor braked, hard, skidding a little bit on the rough asphalt. There was a gated entrance, harled stone stacked six feet high on either side of a dirt driveway. The black wrought-iron gate was conveniently open.

Taylor backed up a bit, then drove through, dust swirling around the Lumina in choking waves. The drive was about a mile long, with a hedge running along each side that blocked the view of the land.

“He’s got a decent bit of property out here,” she said, gritting her teeth as she hit a dip in the road unexpectedly, jarring all of them. “Sorry.”

The road curved then, and opened into a beautiful cobblestone parking area. The house beyond sprawled the length of the circular turnaround, a three-storied Gothic Victorian, columned, gray with white trim, complete with a turret. It was a lovely house, double balconies, in good shape, no peeling paint, no cobwebs. If it were run-down, then she could get the sense that the king of the vampires lived there. As it was, it was downright cheery. She snorted to herself at the thought, threw the car into Park and climbed out.

Simari pulled in behind, left Max in the car and joined them.

Marcus stared in admiration at the surroundings. “Used to be a farm, I’d bet. See how the land rolls away? It would make a good vineyard.”

“Lots of good farmland up here. Cotton and corn. Some tobacco, too.” They jumped at the voice, turned to see a small man in coveralls advancing on them, brandishing a rake. “You’re trespassing on private property. Can I help you folks?”

Taylor took a step back, tapped her badge on her belt. “Yes, sir. My name is Lieutenant Jackson, Metro Homicide. Detective Wade, Detective McKenzie and Officer Simari. We have a warrant to search the premises.”

Max began barking in the backseat, Taylor shot Simari a glance. No sense getting this guy riled up. Go calm the dog. Simari turned and went to her patrol car. Max’s throaty growls lessened.

The man used the rake like a cane, leaned on it and scratched his freckled, balding head. He had tufts of white hair pouring out of his ears-it made him look like a party favor.

“Now, what in the world? A warrant? For what? Why do you need to search my home?”

“Your home? We were under the impression that it belonged to a Keith Barent Johnson.”

“Ha!” The little old man laughed. “That’s me, and this here’s my house. But I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Sir, we have a man in custody who says his name is Keith Barent Johnson, and lists this address as his residence.”

The man shifted the rake to his other side. Taylor could see him thinking. He finally sighed deeply, mopped his forehead with a red bandanna and waved them to the porch.