The media was losing faith, accusations were starting to fly. And if the pattern was followed, another girl would go missing tonight.

Il was late when Baldwin had dismissed the team to get some rest, as if that was possible. He and Charlotte had stayed in the office for a while, waiting. When no call came, they relaxed a fraction, and Baldwin decided that they should get some food, recharge and start fresh in the morning. Sleep had been his enemy this week-he was running on caffeine and takeout, and his body was rebelling. Added to the mix was Charlotte, who jumped him every time they got a few minutes alone. Intense and powerful as the sex was, he was getting worn-out from all the pressure. There was a bit of desperation in their lovemaking now, coupled with a sense of insecurity and fallibility. He was beginning to sense Charlotte would bleed him dry if given the chance.

Yet here he was, spent and gasping on the bed again. Charlotte was pacing the bedroom. She was naked, her hair flying out behind her with every turn.

“It’s him, goddammit. We know it’s him. There’s got to be something there. Something that tells the story. Where is he keeping them? How does he disappear with them so easily? Everyone is on the lookout. We’ve had units on Arlen for days now, there’s no way he slipped out without our notice. We’re chasing a fucking ghost.”

“He’s not a ghost. He’s right there in front of us. We’re just missing the clues.”

She turned on him, small white teeth bared in a grimace. “What could we have missed? We’ve been in his house. We’ve watched him. He’s the single most perfect reformed child molester I’ve ever seen.”

“Exactly. That’s what’s wrong with him. He’s too perfect. He will slip up, Charlotte. We are running out of time, yes, but he will make a mistake.”

“How many girls need to die before we figure out what that is, Baldwin?”

Her voice caught. Add vulnerable to the list of qualities he never thought he’d see from her.

“Come here,” he said. Obediently, she walked to the bed. ”Again,” she said, husky, demanding, and he almost laughed. “Charlotte, I’m only one man. I don’t think it’s possible for me to-” She proved him wrong, once more.

Forty-Nine

Nashville

7:30 p.m.

Susan Norwood was meek and docile in the presence of her parents. Taylor wondered if her mother knew about her alter ego, Ember, and her boyfriend the drug dealer, Juri Edvin, aka Thorn. If they didn’t, they’d find out soon enough.

Mr. and Mrs. Norwood looked smaller today, shrunken with grief. First their son murdered, then their daughter accused. They didn’t smile when Taylor and McKenzie entered the room. Miles Rose got to his feet and shook Taylor’s hand, pulled her out of earshot of his clients.

“This better be good, Lieutenant. Her parents are squawking about having your badge for holding a minor against her will without bringing them in.”

“Quit posturing, Miles. You know as well as I do I’m allowed to talk to her without her parents around. Besides, said minor ran from me, tried to hit me and was read her rights before a word was spoken. She’s being charged with murder, assaulting an officer and fleeing the scene. This isn’t some sweet little innocent you’re trying to protect.”

He showed her teeth in a semblance of a smile, a rat on a floating barrel, then went to his clients and sat down. He ran his hands through the fine black strands that raked across his balding pate. She always felt like she needed a shower after shaking hands with Miles Rose.

Taylor sat across the table from them, introduced McKenzie to the Norwoods. The niceties observed, Mrs. Norwood asked, “Is there news on our son’s murderer, Lieutenant?”

Taylor said, ‘Good question. Why don’t we ask Susan that? Susan, what do you think about all of this?”

The girl glared at her, and Taylor raised an eyebrow. Still under her parents’ control on the surface, at least.

“Why in the world are you asking Susan? She had nothing to do with any of this. And I want to know why she was taken and held last night, Lieutenant. What exactly is going on here?”

Taylor sat back in her chair. “Your daughter is dating a drug dealer, for starters. He’s implicated her in a murder he committed.”

“What in the world? That’s it. We’re leaving.” The Norwoods jumped to their feet.

“You can go, but Susan stays. We’re charging her with first-degree murder.”

Laura Norwood started to sputter, and Susan let out a howl. Miles Rose leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands across his belly, visions of dollar signs dancing in his eyes.

Mr. Norwood said, “But she’s a juvenile. Surely you can’t charge her. She’s done nothing wrong.” ‘That’s right. I haven’t done anything. I’m not involved in this.” Susan glowered at Taylor.

“Let me tell you a little story, okay? You can correct me where I’m wrong. You’ve been hanging out with a boy named Juri Edvin, also known as Thorn, who is supplying half of Hillsboro High School with drugs. Vi-Fri ring a bell? Your boyfriend gave a dosed pill of Ecstasy to Brittany Carson, then stood outside her window watching her die. He left his DNA on the wall of her house, there’s no mistaking it. Aren’t you and Brittany friends? Juri said something to that effect yesterday.”

“This is bullshit,” Susan said.

“Susan!” Mrs. Norwood thundered at her daughter. “Where are your manners? Apologize to the Lieutenant this instant.” She fumbled for a tissue in her capacious bag. “This is obviously some kind of mistake. Susan and Brittany were friends. They used to babysit together. Then Brittany started attending St. Cecilia’s on a scholarship, and the two of them stopped hanging out as much. Brittany started seeing one of Susan’s old boyfriends, and they had a little falling-out. But you were still in contact sometimes, right?”

“Shut. Up. Mom.” Susan’s jaw was clenched so tight Taylor was afraid she’d break her teeth. “You were the one who gave her the drugs,” Taylor said, incredulous. ‘*You killed her.”

“That’s not true. It was Thorn. He gave her the drugs. I had nothing to do with it. With any of it” She looked around wildly, seeking support. Her parents were staring at her in horror. Taylor leaned closer to the girl.

“Susan, he said you told him to, but it was you all along. You went there together, forced her to take the dosed pill, and once she’d taken the drugs and was down, you carved the pentacle into her stomach, just like you did with your brother and Mandy Vanderwood and Brandon Scott and Chelsea Mott and-“

“No! That’s not what happened.”

Susan’s parents were ashen, her mother let out a tiny cry. Taylor ignored them, leaned into Susan’s face, ‘Then why don’t you tell me, Susan. Tell us all what happened.”

The girl started to cry, long, racking sobs. “It was Raven,” she said finally, hiccupping. “Raven made us do it.” At the name, she dissolved into a puddle of incoherent cries, clutching her stomach. Neither one of her parents leaned over to comfort her.

Taylor wasn’t inclined to show the girl any leniency, either. She held the key to this case, tucked deep into her bratty little mind. “Who is Raven, Susan?”

She shook her head, a low moan escaping her lips. “I can’t tell you. I’m bound from saying his name aloud. Bound by blood, bound by fire. Bound together, a funeral pyre.”