“You tell Hal? He might cut her loose if the price is right.”

“Not a chance.” Todd laughed. “I offered to buy that beauty myself, but the price he quoted was three times what she’s really worth. Cagey old bastard. He knows there’s nothing else like her around here.”

“Which is why the Shady Lady will be parked in his slip until someone is dumb enough to pay what he’s asking.” Beck took another drink.

“So if you’re not looking for a boat, what brings you down to the marina?”

“Just walking. Thinking.” He half-smiled. “Worrying.”

“Yeah, Lisa told me the killer who murdered that girl in Ballard might have killed the girl from Cameron as well.” Todd shook his head. “She said the medical examiner’s report came in, says that girl suffocated inside that wrapping. What kind of a sick bastard wraps a girl up and then lets her die like that? What was that stuff he wrapped her in, anyway?”

“Regular clear plastic wrap.”

“Like the stuff you buy in the grocery store?”

“Exactly.”

“Must have taken a lot to wrap her up. Maybe the cops over in Ballard should talk to the local stores and find out if anyone’s bought up lots of that wrap lately.”

“I imagine someone’s done that, although frankly, it’s the same type you can buy anywhere. One or two packages would have been enough. She was thin. It wouldn’t have taken much.”

“So you probably couldn’t trace it. That’s what Lisa said, too.” He played with the cap from his water bottle. “You think that girl from Cameron is dead?”

“She could be.”

“That’s what Lisa thinks, too.”

“Well, let’s not spread that one around. She may still show up alive.” Beck replied, thinking Lisa might be taking a little too much of her job home to share. He’d have to talk to her about that.

“Hey, all these years married to a cop, you don’t have to tell me what to keep to myself.” He made the gesture of zipping his lips shut. “In our house, the rule is, you don’t comment publicly until you’ve seen it on the news.”

“You follow that rule and you’ll be right every time.”

“Todd, phone,” Jay called from across the wide room.

“Chief was there anything…” Todd rose from the chair.

“No, no. Actually, I only stopped in to beg a cold drink and a few minutes of your cool air. I need to start back to the station.”

“Can I have someone drive you?” Todd offered.

“No, but thanks.” Beck rose from the arm of the chair. “Walking’s my therapy. I do most of my best thinking on my feet.”

“You oughta wait for a cooler day.”

“Should have thought of that myself.” Beck finished the water and tossed the empty plastic bottle into the recycling bin. “Thanks for the water.”

“Anytime. Want to take one with you for the road?”

“No, but thanks. I’ll walk back on the shady side of the path.”

“Good seeing you, Beck. Stop in anytime.”

“Will do, Todd. Hey, Jay, take care.” Beck waved and headed toward the door.

Beck did walk back on the shady side of the path, as far as Charles Street, where he crossed the street to stay in the shade as long as he could. His pager went off just as he’d turned onto Kelly’s Point Road. He looked at the number, which was familiar, but since he was only half a block from the station, he waited until he’d returned to his office to return the call.

“This is Chief Beck, St. Dennis PD, returning a call made from this number,” he said when a woman answered.

“Chief, I’ll get Chief Daley for you,” the woman responded. “Can you hold?”

“Yes.”

“Beck.” Warren Daley was on in a flash. “Something’s come up. I’d like you to stop over this afternoon if you could.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I’d rather not go into it on the phone.” Daley told him. “Is four o’clock okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good, good. See you then.” Daley hesitated, his voice shaky. “Beck, you’re just not gonna believe this…this damned case just keeps getting worse and worse. Just when you think you’ve seen it all…”

It was three fifty-five when a curious Beck parked behind the one-story wooden-frame building that served as the police department for the village of Ballard. Like St. Dennis, but unlike some of the surrounding towns, Ballard had opted for its own force. Several of the smallest towns, without funds to maintain their own police departments, depended on the state police. Ballard, Cameron, St. Dennis, and Hopkins, another few miles down the road, all had their own departments. And all had cruisers parked in the lot on this Tuesday afternoon. Rich Meyer’s car sat two spots down from Beck’s, and the cruiser from Hopkins apparently had arrived just moments before Beck. He could see Chief Gillespie still seated behind the wheel, talking on his cell phone. Beck delayed getting out of his car until he saw Gillespie’s door open.

“Lew!” Beck called to the other man.

“Hey, Beck.” Lew Gillespie waited at the foot of the dirt path leading to the back of the building until Beck caught up. “I see you received the summons too.”

“Any idea what’s up?”

“None. Warren just called earlier and asked me to please be here. He didn’t want to discuss it on the phone.”

“Yeah, he said that to me, too.” Beck frowned. From the little Chief Daley had said on the phone, Beck had the sinking feeling that something really big was about to play out.

“I see Meyer’s here, too.” Gillespie looked beyond Beck and added, “And there’s Ralston from Sandy Point, just pulling in behind you.”

The two men waited for the newcomer to join them.

“What’s up, gentleman?” Morris Ralston fixed a smile on his face.

“We were just wondering if you knew, Mo,” Gillespie told him.

“No clue.” He shrugged.

“Then let’s go on inside and find out.” Beck gestured toward the building.

“Amen.” Ralston slipped his fingers inside the collar of his starched white uniform shirt and gave it a tug. “Too damned hot out here anyway.”

The small Ballard police station had four rooms on the first floor, and four more in the basement. The three men were directed down the steps to a small conference room, where Warren Daley and Rich Meyer were seated at a round table awaiting the arrival of the others. Daley rose when they entered, and closed the door behind them.

“It’s just us five,” he told them, gesturing for the newcomers to take a seat.

“What’s going on, Warren?” Ralston asked. “Can we assume this has something to do with that case of yours?”

Daley nodded and reached for a pile of manila folders.

“This is Dr. Reilly’s preliminary autopsy report on Colleen Preston. Take a minute and look it over. I want you all to see what’s on the loose out there.” He passed out the folders.

For the next several minutes, the room was silent, save for the occasional sound of paper rustling. Suddenly the normally stoic Ralston growled, “God damn it, he wrapped up that poor girl alive so she’d suffocate inside that plastic hell. Jesus!”

The others made sounds of disgust and disbelief as they read on. When they’d all finished reading and solemnly closed their files, Daley said, “I’ve been a cop all my life. Been in this job thirty-five years. I’ve never had to deal with anything even remotely like this.”

He flipped open his own file and read details randomly, “Multiple insect bites cover the entire body.”

He turned the page. “Signs of repeated rape. Sodomy.”

He turned the page again. “Wrists and ankles bruised and cut showing signs of having been restrained.”

Another turn. “End of tongue severed…”

“Jesus!” Morris Ralston groaned. “She bit off the end of her tongue!”

One last turn. “Cause of death: suffocation.”

Warren Daley closed the file with a pronounced slap and it was clear to everyone in the room that he was close to losing it. His eyes brimmed with tears. “I cannot even begin to imagine what it must have been like for that beautiful little girl for however long it was that animal had her.”