He wiped away tears with the back of his hand.

“But let me tell you something about Colleen Preston.” He stood. “She did not go easy.”

He walked to the end of the table where he’d left his briefcase and brought it back to his seat.

“She never gave up. Never stopped fighting. That may be the only consolation her family has at this point.”

Curious eyes watched as he removed a tape recorder from his briefcase and set it on the table.

“Just when you think it can’t get any worse, it does,” he told them. “Dr. Reilly found this tape inside the wrappings.”

He hit play, then sat in his chair, his elbows on the table, his steepled fingers covering part of his face.

“This is your chance, now, Colleen.” A distorted male voice filled the room. “If there’s anything you want to tell your parents, your brother, your sister, you’ll want to do it now.”

There was some indistinguishable sound in the background.

“That wasn’t nice,” the male voice said. “I’m giving you an opportunity to leave something behind that might comfort your family.”

“Momma, Daddy, I’m sorry,” a raspy voice whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…I never thought he’d…” The voice broke into sobs.

“Is that all? This is your last chance, Colleen. No words of wisdom for your sweet little sister?” The voice taunted.

“Fry in hell, you disgusting degenerate psychopathic pig-” she snarled.

The tape went silent.

For a long time, no one could speak.

Finally, when he found his voice, Beck said, “He’s not done, and he’s no amateur.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Daley looked around the table, the circles around his haunted eyes deep and dark.

Rich Meyer covered his face with his hands. “If he’s got Mindy Kenneher…if this is what he’s doing to her…”

“The girl from Cameron who went missing a few weeks before Colleen Preston?” Gillespie asked.

Meyer nodded.

“If the same man took her, the odds are that he’s already killed her,” Beck said softly. “She’s already lost, Rich.”

Meyer sat speechless, contemplating the possibility.

“I asked you all here today because I frankly am at a loss,” Daley told them. “We’re all small forces, no reserves, no specialists to speak of. I’m thinking if he hit Cameron, and he hit us here in Ballard, where’s he going to hit next time? Is there anyone here who thinks he won’t strike again?”

“Yeah.” Gillespie nodded. “I think to a man, we’re all thinking the same thing.”

“We have no leads. Nothing. We might have some trace once the county lab reports come back, but that’s not going to be for a while. We couldn’t get any prints from the wrappings, so we’re assuming he was wearing gloves while he wrapped her up. She didn’t have so much as a smudge on her, so the ME thinks she was probably washed down real good to remove any trace before he wrapped her up. The CSIs tell me they got very little from her, but they’re processing what they did find. Gonna be a while before we know if we have anything that will help. Right now, we’re all blind,” Daley told them. “Anyone has any suggestions, I’d sure love to hear them now.”

“How long had Mindy Kenneher been missing before Colleen disappeared?” Beck asked.

“Mindy disappeared on June first,” Rich Meyer told them, then turned to Warren Daley. “The Preston girl?”

“June twenty-six. She disappeared on Tuesday, June twenty-sixth.”

“Three and a half weeks between the two.” Morris Ralston had taken a small notebook from inside his jacket pocket.

“And today is Tuesday, the tenth of July. Just two weeks since Colleen Preston disappeared.” Beck drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Until we’re proven wrong, I think we need to operate on the assumption that we’re dealing with a repeat offender here.”

“Three weeks between the first and second taking,” Gillespie thought aloud. “And he only held the Preston girl for two weeks.”

“Which means he’s probably looking for another victim,” Meyer noted.

“Or maybe he’s already found one,” Ralston said.

“Anyone reported missing that you know of?” Daley asked. Everyone at the table shook their head.

“Which could mean just about anything.” Beck held up one hand and began to count off the possibilities on his fingers. “One, he’s taken someone who hasn’t been reported missing or who’s far enough away that we haven’t heard of it as yet. Two, he could be sated for a while. Three, he could have moved on. Four, he could have stopped-”

“What are the chances of that?” Ralston said.

“Not much,” Beck agreed.

“Five, he could have been run over by a bus and right now is on a slab in the morgue,” Gillespie said, “and six, he could have been picked up on some charge in another state and is now the guest of, oh, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Delaware…”

“Or just about anyplace else,” Meyer said with disgust.

“Okay, we agree, he could be anywhere right now. Any or none of those possibilities could be the right one.” Beck looked around the table at the others, each top man in their respective jurisdictions. At thirty-seven, Beck was the youngest man there. Two were already close to retirement age, another not far behind. “My gut is telling me that he’s still around. I think he’s going to want to watch, to see what Warren does. He’s going to want to watch the press, the papers, and the TV stations. Then I think he’s going to do it again.”

“I hate to say it, but my gut’s telling me the same thing.” Chief Daley nodded.

“So where do we go from here?” Gillespie asked. “You thinking about calling in the county sheriff?”

“God, I don’t want to do that. I swear I do not.” Daley shook his head. “I had three homicide cases I had to work with Jake Madison, and after the last one, I swore I’d never do it again. The man is the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever had to deal with. His ego is as big as the Atlantic, and once you confer with him, he totally takes over. Wouldn’t be so bad if he knew what he was doing, but he’s just a bumblefuck from the word go. I do not want to bring in the county if it means I’ll have to deal with him. As important as this case is, turning it over to him will all but guarantee our killer gets away.”

“There are some really good men over there, Warren,” Lew Gillespie pointed out. “Some fine detectives, and their lab people are top-notch.”

“No argument there, and I’d be the first to say it,” Daley agreed. “But unfortunately, they all take orders from Jake.”

“So what are you proposing to do?” Gillespie asked.

“Well, I thought I’d start with a press conference tomorrow, tell everyone that we’ve had this meeting, and that all the local departments are on the same page. We’re all going to work together to find this killer.” Daley looked from one man to the next. “We all banded together two years ago and we caught that bank robber-”

“ Warren, you know you have my total support, and that the St. Dennis force is behind you one hundred percent,” Beck told him. “But this isn’t the same kind of case.”

“What would you do, if you were me?” Daley asked Beck.

“I’d do what you’re doing, but I’d go one step further,” Beck said. “I’d call the FBI and ask for help. I’d ask for a profiler, first thing, and I’d ask for an agent or two who had experience with serial offenders-”

“Hold up there, Beck,” Lew Gillespie protested. “It’s too early to start throwing around terms like that.”

“I don’t think so, Lew. I think this guy’s killed before. His whole MO is too sophisticated, too well thought out, too well executed. He’s no amateur. I’d bet my life on it.”

“I’ve already told Beck how I feel about this profiler nonsense.” Meyer sat back in his chair. “I think it’s all a waste of time.”

“I think Beck’s got a point,” Morris Ralston told him. “This killer is accomplished, he knows what he’s doing. And even if Mindy Kenneher turned up tomorrow with some story about going to Disney World, even if the Preston woman was the only victim, I don’t think it would hurt us to have an idea of what type of person we’re looking for. Especially if he’s living among us.”