"You," she whispered. "Dom?"

"Of course it was me."

A man who stares at monsters.

But he was the monster himself. "God, what a fool I am. No trap. No FBI agents swarming in at the last minute to save me."

"Unfortunately not." He stepped closer and was almost lost in the shadows. "Don't put your hands in your pockets. I have a knife in my hand and I can reach you in a heartbeat, but I don't want it to end that soon. It's been a superb game, and I want to savor the win."

"You haven't won yet."

"That's what I admire about you. You never give up. But you should be more generous. I was very clever with every move. I deserve to win."

"You were clever. You set Grunard up perfectly. You even gave me the characteristics of the serial killer so I'd be able to associate them with Grunard later. It never occurred to me that they might also apply to you. You associate with the police as Grunard did, but even more, you're an FBI profiler. You could move from place to place. You liked to be in the field, you said. That means you were contacted by your digital phone and no one actually knew where you were at a given time. You could say you were in Talladega when you were in Atlanta."

"I do regard the digital phone as one of the most helpful inventions. And it was a real challenge to become an FBI agent. Background checks that had to be foolproof, psychological tests that had to show me as completely normal. I prepared for almost two years before I applied. Setting up the personal interviews with people from my supposed past was the most difficult. It took finesse, bribery, and a psychological sleight of hand that would fill you with admiration."

"No, it wouldn't."

"But it was all worth it. Who else would be in a better position to hide and change evidence? I had to keep an eye on where and when any of my kills surfaced so I could erase the records."

"But the VICAP report uncovered the Harding kills."

"Before I was able to sidetrack the search. Very annoying."

"But you led me here to find Debby Jordan."

"I'm a fatalist. I saw that everything was leading back to my roots. I wanted you here to help me start again, to revive that splendid surge of power." He smiled. "It did do that. When I killed Grunard, it was almost like the old days. But he wasn't you. It will be much better with you."

"Did you always plan to kill Grunard?"

"After I examined the situation and all the possibilities, I realized that his death would accomplish two ends, create a red herring and make our game more complicated. How could I resist? He would become Dom and disappear." He shook his head. "But that complication may cause me to have to move on and reinvent myself. Grunard's background is pretty solid. There may be questions." He shrugged. "Oh, well, I'll have plenty of warning and I've already set up an identity in Montana. It may be good for me. Being Robert Spiro made everything too easy for me. The kill, the cover-up . . . It may have been part of my problem."

"You'll move on and you'll kill again." Her voice was shaking. "Over and over."

"Of course, that's what I do."

"How many?"

"I really don't remember. I was drunk with the pleasure during those first years. I went out every night. Later everything blurred. More than thirty years . . . a thousand? I don't know. Maybe more."

"My God."

"But don't feel bad. You won't be like the others. I'll remember you."

"You have me. Let Jane go."

"You know I won't do that. She knows my face and the little bitch would try to find a way to hurt me. She's like you."

"But you were wrong about her being like Bonnie."

"But I set up an interesting scenario, didn't I? It pulled you in. The bones and then sweet little Jane."

"Whose bones were they?"

He was silent.

"Tell me. Were they Bonnie's bones?"

"I could let you go to the grave not knowing."

"Yes."

"But then you wouldn't realize how clever I've been. How wonderfully I'd set you up."

"They weren't Bonnie's bones."

He shook his head. "Doreen Parker's."

"Then everything you told me about your conversation with Fraser was a lie."

"Not entirely. I did talk to him. It was remarkably easy, since I was an FBI agent. He was a copycat and he was claiming some of my kills. We had a nice chat, and I told him to back off. Since he had the good sense to admire me enormously, he agreed."

"You knew about the ice cream. Did you find that out from the police records?"

"No, I told you, we had a nice chat. He told me a lot about Bonnie. Did you want to know how he did it?"

She clenched her fists as waves of pain washed over her. "No."

"Coward." His gaze narrowed on her face. "But you want to know where he buried her, don't you? You've always wanted to find her."

"I want to bring her home."

"It's too late. You're going to die without finding her. That hurts terribly, doesn't it? Your Bonnie is buried all alone in Chattahoochee National Park, and you're going to be buried here, hundreds of miles away from her. It cuts to the quick, doesn't it?"

"Yes."