"She could have let him in the front door."

"And then put the chain back on the way her nephew and brother-in-law found it later? No. She knew him, Ben. She let the bastard into the house through her back door, and she felt so unthreatened by him that he was able to cross the room and pick up one of her own butcher knives."

Ben frowned but shook his head. "What about Becky? Cassie thinks she didn't know her killer."

Cassie said, "She didn't say his name at a point when she should have. So she probably didn't know it. But that's just an assumption on my part."

The sheriff said, "That doesn't mean he's a stranger to the area. Small town or not, none of us knows every one of our fellow citizens."

Ben granted the point with a nod but said, "Still, we can't be sure, Matt. And even if you're right about it, the task force has other resources we could use. They have experts – in forensics and behavioral science to name just two."

"I can and will handle this investigation," the sheriff said flatly. "I'm not handing it off to the FBI, a task force, or to anyone else. Remember when they came cruising in here a few years ago, Ben? The FBI and DEA, tracking drug runners up from Florida and convinced the operation was based around here? I've never seen such a mess in my life. The rights of decent citizens trampled without so much as a by-your-leave, property destroyed, people up in arms. My father had a heart attack before it was all over and done with."

Sheriff Dunbar shook his head. "Unh-unh, no way am I going to let anything like that happen again, not in my town." With barely a pause he added, "Now, if you two don't mind, I say we get out of here. I need to lock up the place and get back to the office. And I'm sure both of you have better things to do with the rest of your afternoon."

Cassie didn't protest, and Ben didn't say anything else until they got into his Jeep.

Then, watching the sheriff's cruiser drive away, he shook his head. "I'm afraid it was a mess. And it left a bad taste in the mouth for most of the people around here. As nervous as this town is getting, Matt won't be criticized for not turning to outsiders for help."

"Can he handle this on his own?"

Ben started the engine and put the Jeep in gear. "I don't know. He's no fool, and he's got plenty of smart people working for him, but this is something outside his experience. He never worked homicide during his training as a cop, and he sure as hell never dealt with a serial killer."

"He made a good argument for Mrs. Jameson's killer not being a stranger to her. Logical and reasonable. You still don't agree?"

"I just don't agree that it's definitive. There's a chance, however unlikely, that Ivy let a stranger in, or at least opened the door to one. And you say the man who killed Jill wore a mask. She sure as hell wouldn't have opened the door to a masked man, so I have to wonder if her door was even locked. Maybe she was careless and didn't lock it behind her when she went in. Maybe Ivy was careless for once. It happens."

"To both of them on the same day?"

Ben grimaced. "Unlikely, yes. But possible."

After a moment's thought Cassie said, "I have to say he convinced me. And a man who was a stranger to Becky could still be someone Mrs. Jameson knew. If he is local, sooner or later there's bound to be some connection between the killer and at least one of his victims. I guess we'll just have to wait and see if Sheriff Dunbar's investigation turns up anything."

"Such as more bodies?" Ben's voice was grim.

"Maybe he'll find the connection, if there is one. Or evidence that points to a particular man. If he's right about this killer being from the area, then he probably has a much better understanding of the people here – and any potential suspect – than outside law enforcement officials could ever get."

"He understands the people here, but I doubt he has any special insight into the mind of this killer." Ben sent her a quick glance. "Your help could prove invaluable, Cassie. That hasn't changed."

Without responding to that, she said, "If you could just take me as far as the garage, I'd appreciate it. They called this morning to say my car was ready, so I said I'd pick it up."

Ben turned the Jeep in the direction of the garage but said, "Should you be driving? You were out cold for nearly five minutes."

Cassie was a little startled. "So long? I hadn't realized. But it's all right, I feel fine. Whatever happened back there didn't take nearly as much out of me as the usual… connections do."

"Could have fooled me. You went white as a sheet before you passed out."

There was a note in his voice that made her feel suddenly self-conscious, but Cassie managed to keep her own voice casual. "Shock, I imagine. Seeing her sitting there, the way she seemed to be looking at me, was so unexpected." She paused. "What if someone else was there? Why wouldn't they have come forward?"

"Probably afraid of being a suspect. And I really don't like the idea of a witness to a crime scene who's out there possibly telling friends and family what that crime scene looked like. So far we've been able to keep certain details quiet. If word gets out about the way the victims were found posed, the coins in their hands, the weapons used, it could make it more difficult to prosecute the case if and when it comes to court."

"I don't suppose you're worried about a copycat killer," Cassie said absently.

"Not really. Assuming Matt's right, I find it just barely credible that this sleepy little town could produce one vicious killer. Two operating at the same time would surprise me very much."

"Well, maybe whoever it was who might have witnessed the murder scene will be too frightened to talk about it."

"Maybe. But secrets tend not to stay secret for very long in this town."

Cassie thought about that after he dropped her off at the garage. She paid her bill and waited for her car to be driven around front, and it didn't take a psychic to sense the unease of the mechanics. All they could talk about were the murders, and speculation was running rife.

"It's gotta be a stranger. I mean, who around here would do such a thing?" one mechanic standing a few feet from Cassie demanded of his companion.

"I know plenty who could have murdered Ivy," the second man said with a snort. Then he sobered and added, "But not the other two, not Miss Kirkwood or Becky."

"You think it was the same guy?"

"Well, it musta been. I heard that the sheriff found 'em all holding flowers. Is that sick, or what?"

"Flowers? I heard it was candles."

"Candles? Now, what kind of sense does that make? Honestly, Tom, you'd believe anything anybody told you--"

The discussion faded away as they walked toward the back, and since Cassie's car was delivered to her then, she left the garage and drove toward her next stop, the supermarket. She had decided to run a few errands since she was in town anyway. And, in all honesty, she also wanted to get a sense of the mood of the townspeople.

The cashier at the supermarket, unlike the mechanics, was not disposed to be fascinated by the subject. When the customer in front of Cassie asked what she thought of the murders, the teenager looked as if she would burst into tears.

"Oh, Mrs. Holland, it's so awful! Becky was in school with my sister, and Miss Kirkwood was just the nicest lady. And I heard… I heard they had awful things done to them, just awful! I'm so scared, all the girls are so scared!"

The customer murmured a few reassuring words, but it was clear she was none too confident in her own optimism; Cassie noticed that she glanced around her warily as she pushed her shopping cart from the store.

Cassie had bought a few perishables, but it was a chilly day, and she didn't worry when she parked her car downtown, locked it up, and went for a stroll. She window-shopped, and she listened to the people around her talk, winding up in a booth in the drugstore.