„It wasn’t any heavier than the others,“ Abe said and her eyes lifted to his, and for a moment he saw relieved gratitude before the professional shield rose once again.

„Then let’s start with the way he had them placed in my trunk. Left to right.“

Jack picked up an envelope from the first crate, examining it. „I’m willing to bet we get nothing from the envelopes. Probably stock you could buy at any office supply store. But I’ll slit the top just in case he was stupid enough to lick the envelope and leave me some DNA.“

Spinnelli grunted. „Don’t hold your breath.“

„Jack’s the eternal optimist,“ Mia said. „He still buys season tickets to the Cubs.“

Jack just grinned at Mia in the way of very old friends. „They’ll win the pennant this year.“ Sobering, he handed the envelope to Kristen. „You recognize this guy, Counselor?“

Kristen hesitated. „It was too dark in the garage.“ Drawing a breath, she held out her hand. „Let’s take a look.“ Abe saw her hand tremble, saw her quickly control it as her eyes dropped to the grainy Polaroid stuck to the envelope. „Anthony Ramey,“ she said quietly.

„Shit,“ Mia muttered.

„Who is Anthony Ramey?“ Abe asked.

„Serial rapist,“ Kristen answered and she swallowed. „He seized his victims in parking garages up and down Michigan Avenue. Targeted women walking alone to their cars after hours.“ Her green eyes flicked to his. He thought about the wild fear in her eyes in front of the elevator, that pathetic can of pepper spray in her hand, and found himself angry on her behalf. It was no wonder she’d been afraid of him. It was little wonder she ventured out onto the streets at all, given the crimes she’d seen. It was little wonder any of them could. „I prosecuted him two and a half years ago,“ she said, „but the jury acquitted.“

„Why?“

Regret shadowed her face. „Unlawful search of Ramey’s apartment. The judge threw out the only piece of physical evidence we had, and his victims were unable to make a positive ID.“

„Warren and Trask executed that search,“ Mia said, tilting the envelope so she could see the picture, leaving it in Kristen’s hands. „They still haven’t gotten over it.“

Kristen sighed. „Neither have I. Those three women didn’t want to testify, but they did because I told them we could put Ramey away for good.“

„Well, now someone has,“ Abe said and Kristen looked troubled.

„I’d say so.“ She gave the envelope back to Jack. „I don’t think I’m going to like this, but let’s have the next one.“ Jack handed her the next envelope, the equally grainy Polaroid showing three bodies lined up shoulder to shoulder. Kristen blinked and brought the picture closer to the overhead light. „You got a magnifying glass, Jack?“ Wordlessly Jack handed her a small glass. She peered and squinted. „Oh, God.“

Mia looked over her shoulder and hissed a curse. „Blades.“

Abe’s brows went up. „Blades? Those three guys are Blades?“ He’d had dealings with the gang in his undercover role. The Blades were well-known for dealing in weapons and drugs. They’d been small-time when he started in Narcotics, but they were growing rapidly. If someone had murdered three Blades, there would be hell to pay.

Again Kristen met his eyes from across the table. „They have Blade tattoos. See for yourself.“ She handed him the envelope and the glass. „I prosecuted three Blades last year for the murder of two elementary school children waiting for their school bus,“ she continued as he noted the tattoo of three braided snakes on the upper arm of one of the bodies. She had a good eye. Or perhaps she had never been able to put the sight from her mind. „The children got caught in gang cross fire. They were only seven years old.“

God. Seven years old and mowed down like they were nothing because a crowd of punks had a turf war going. „And these guys were acquitted?“ he asked tightly.

She nodded and once again he saw regret in her green eyes. Regret and anger and growing apprehension. „We had four eyewitnesses.“

„Who promptly got amnesia the day of the trial,“ Mia added bitterly. „That one was mine.“ She looked away. „And Ray’s.“

„You did your best, Mia,“ Spinnelli said. „All of you did.“

Abe handed the envelope back to Jack. „Let’s see the last one.“

„I’m not sure I want to,“ Mia muttered.

Kristen squared her shoulders. „We’re two for two. The last one will probably be one of mine, too.“ She took this envelope herself. „This one’s been sewn up, breastbone to abdomen.“ Her mouth tightened. „And it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.“ She glanced at Spinnelli over her shoulder. „Ross King.“

Spinnelli’s lips curled in distaste. „Hell’s got new company tonight.“

Abe reached across the table and took the envelope from her hands. She was right, but he had to strain to see it. The battered face in the Polaroid bore little resemblance to the face that had been plastered across the front page of the Tribune for weeks leading up to King’s trial. „You’ve got good eyes. I wouldn’t have recognized him with all those bruises on his face.“

„Maybe it’s because that’s how I imagined him,“ Kristen returned, her voice hard. Brittle. „After all the parents of his victims got done with him.“

Abe looked up in surprise and her lips curved bitterly. „We’re not immune, Detective. We see the victims, too. It’s hard not to hate a man who preyed on boys who trusted him.“

„I read about it in the paper when I was under.“ Abe handed the envelope to Spinnelli who’d been waiting his turn. „Softball coach and pedophile.“

„With a damned clever lawyer.“ Kristen’s jaw clenched. „Put King’s brother on the stand and coached him to let it slip that King had priors for sexual misconduct. His lawyer got a mistrial, but we had to plead him down from rape to misdemeanor assault because the boys’ parents refused to put their sons through a second trial.“

„Which was what his sonofabitch lawyer had planned all along,“ Spinnelli gritted.

„Like I said, his lawyer was damned clever.“ Kristen leaned forward, bracing her gloved fingertips against the table, staring into the crates. „So now we know the cast of characters. Five dead bad men. Let’s get on with the play, Jack.“

They all watched as Jack carefully sliced open the first envelope and slid its contents on the stainless-steel table. He switched on a tape recorder. „This is the envelope with the Polaroid of Anthony Ramey,“ he said for the tape. „Inside we find four more Polaroids. Views of the victim from various angles. Looks like a concrete floor in the background.“

Abe sifted through the pictures. „Here’s a close-up of his head. Bullet was probably a twenty-two.“ He looked up at Kristen. „Anything bigger wouldn’t have left much face.“

Jack was back to the envelope contents. „Four Polaroids and… one map with a nice little ‘x.’ Looks like it’s down by the Arboretum.“

Spinnelli’s mustache bent down. „That’s where we picked Ramey up.“

Jack set the map on the table, leaving one piece of paper in his hand. He went still, only his eyes moving, back and forth as they scanned the page. He looked up uncertainly. „And one letter that starts ‘My dearest Kristen.’“

Kristen’s eyes widened. „Me?“

She was alarmed, Abe thought, as well she should be. Their killer had just gotten a little more personal. „Read the letter, Jack,“ Abe commanded softly. „Out loud.“

Wednesday, February 18,

10:00 p.m.

Jacob Conti didn’t glance sideways when the door to the club was opened for him. He was rich beyond most people’s ability to count. Everybody held the door open for Jacob Conti. He had almost forgotten a time when he would have been surprised at the gesture of respect. He scanned the throng of bodies gyrating on the dance floor, his eyes narrowing as he located Angelo. His son was easy to spot. He’d be the one with a whore on each knee and a bottle in his hand. You’d think after narrowly escaping prison his son would toe the line for at least an evening. But no, there he was. Celebrating his innocence, no doubt.