Angelo’s celebrations were legendary. And they would soon stop.

Jacob stood in front of Angelo for a full minute before his son realized he was there.

„Hello, Father,“ Angelo slurred, lifting the mostly empty bottle in salute.

„Get up,“ Jacob gritted. „Get up before I pull you out of here.“

Angelo stared a moment, then slowly ambled to his feet. „What’s wrong?“

„What’s wrong is you being seen here getting drunk.“

Angelo grinned. „So? I was acquitted.“ He ran his tongue over his teeth as if surprised he could even say the word. „I can’t be tried again. Double jeopardy, you know.“

Jacob grabbed Angelo’s lapels and hauled him on his toes. „You idiot. You weren’t acquitted. You got a hung jury. That means they get another shot at you. That means Mayhew is watching you like a hawk. That means one wrong step and you’re back in jail.“

Angelo pulled away, flattening his lapels with damp palms, his courage mostly bravado and booze. „I wouldn’t mind seeing Miss Mayhew again. She hid a really nice ass under that black suit.“ He raised a surly brow. „But I won’t be going back to jail.“

Jacob clenched his fists at his sides. He’d hit Angelo here and now, but Elaine didn’t like him to raise his hand to their boy. Their „boy“ was twenty-one years old and headed for trouble, but Jacob held his temper. „And what makes you so sure, Angelo?“

Angelo sneered. „Because you’ll always be there to bail me out.“

Jacob watched his only son weave through the gyrating bodies and knew Angelo was right. He loved his son and he’d do anything to keep him safe.

Wednesday, February 18,

10:00 p.m.

„That’s it,“ Jack said after he’d read the last word of the letter.

Kristen stared at it, glad it was in Jack’s steady hands, because hers were anything but. Knowing the others were waiting for her to say something, she tugged at the latex gloves that encased her sweaty palms and reached for the letter, willing her hands not to shake.

„May I?“

Jack handed it over with a shrug. „You’re the celebrity, Counselor.“

She shot him a sharp look. „That’s not funny, Jack.“

„I didn’t mean it to be,“ Jack replied. „What does he mean, blue stripes?“

Her heart pounding against her rib cage, she scanned the page, hoping Jack had left something out. He hadn’t. She turned the page over and stared at the back, hoping there would be something to alert her to the writer’s identity. There was nothing. Just a plain piece of paper from a generic printer, just like thousands of printers in the city. No name, no mark, no nothing. Just three paragraphs of the most elegant, chilling words she’d ever read.

„I take it you’ve never received a similar letter?“ Mia asked, gently pushing at Kristen’s wrist until the letter lay flat on the table where she could see it, too.

Kristen shook her head. „No, not like this.“ She drummed her fingertips on the table. „Never like this.“ She lifted her eyes and found Abe Reagan’s blue eyes fixed on her with an intensity she found more disconcerting now than when he’d gripped her wrist in front of the elevator. „What?“ she asked, and he frowned.

„Read it again,“ he said.

„Fine.“ Kristen made herself utter the first line. „‘My dearest Kristen.’“

„He knows you,“ Spinnelli murmured, sending a new set of chills down her spine.

„Or thinks he does,“ Abe mused, then gestured with his hand. „Go on.“

She splayed her gloved hands flat on the tabletop on either side of the simply printed page to keep her fingers from drumming. „‘My dearest Kristen, There comes a time in a man’s life when he must take a stand for his beliefs and acknowledge a law higher than the law of man. This is that time. For too long have I watched the innocent suffer and the guilty go free. I can watch no longer. I know you of all people can appreciate this. For years you have worked to avenge the innocent, to make the guilty pay for their crimes. But even you cannot win them all. Anthony Ramey preyed on innocent women, battered their bodies, stole their confidence and their trust, and though they bravely confronted their attacker in your courtroom, they found no justice. Today they have their justice, as do you. Tonight you can sleep well, knowing Anthony Ramey has met his final judge.’“ She drew a deep breath. „It’s signed ‘Your Humble Servant.’“ Her fingers drummed, just once and she splayed her hands flat again. „Then there’s the P.S.“ She opened her mouth, but no more words came out.

Perplexed, Mia read the last line for her. „ ‘And if for some reason you can’t sleep well, I recommend the blue stripes.’“

There was silence in the room until Reagan tapped the table. She looked up to find the same frown on his face. „What does that mean, Kristen, ‘the blue stripes’?“

Kristen fought back a bubble of what would most certainly be hysterical laughter. „What do you do when you can’t sleep, Detective Reagan?“

Reagan studied her thoughtfully. „I usually get up and watch TV or read.“

„Mia?“

Mia looked at her strangely. „Sometimes TV. Sometimes the treadmill. Why?“

Kristen pushed back from the table and peeled off the gloves that were sticky with her sweat. She grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands. „I do home improvements.“

Mia’s blond brows jumped to the top of her forehead. „Excuse me?“

Kristen’s lips curved in a self-deprecating smile. „I work on my house. I’ve painted walls, refinished hardwood floors and put in a new bathroom. Last month I wallpapered my living room. I hung samples on the walls for a week, trying to decide which pattern to go with. Pink roses, green ivy, or…“ Exhaling, she threw the paper towel away. „Or blue stripes.“ She turned to look at the group who looked collectively troubled. „I see you understand.“

„He’s a vigilante murdering peeping Tom,“ Mia said, disbelief in her voice and this time Kristen couldn’t control her laugh, which thankfully didn’t sound too hysterical.

„Jack, I need another pair of gloves. Let’s see what else he left in the crate.“

Jack obliged and she pulled on the dry gloves while he gingerly removed folded clothing from the crate and placed each item in a specially prepared plastic tub. A rank odor filled the air and Kristen was suddenly glad she’d had no dinner. „We’ll unfold them in the lab, look for fibers, that kind of thing,“ he said. „We’ve got a shirt, very bloody.“ He flipped the collar to check the tag. „No famous brand. One pair of jeans, slightly bloody. Levi’s. One belt.“ He grimaced. „One pair of jockey shorts. Fruit of the Loom.“

„Would his mother be proud?“ Spinnelli asked dryly and Jack chuckled.

„You mean are they clean? May have been when he put ‘ em on. Sure aren’t now. One pair of socks, one pair of Nikes. And finally…“ He frowned at the bottom of the crate. „I don’t know. Some sort of tile. Considerate of your humble servant to put a bottom in the crate, Counselor. That way nothing of importance slipped out.“ He lifted out a thin slice of stone, turning it over and sideways. „Well, this is one for the books. I think it’s marble.“

„This whole case will be one for the books,“ Kristen said. „How about the next crate, Jack. The one with the Blades? I want to see if there’s another letter.“

Jack sliced open the next envelope and more Polaroids and papers slid free. „He’s methodical,“ he said as they gathered closer. „Close-ups of the tattoos, bullet entry wounds.“

Kristen clenched her fists to keep her fingers still. „Is there a letter, Jack?“

„Patience, patience,“ he admonished.

„You wouldn’t say that if he was peeping in your living room window,“ Mia said and Jack had the good grace to look chastised.

„One map, ‘x’ marks the spot… And one letter.“ He handed it to Kristen, soberly.

„Wonderful.“ Kristen scanned the page, swallowed back the lump that rose in her throat at the P.S. this one more personal. „‘My dearest Kristen. It would appear you haven’t yet found the first token of my esteem.’“ She looked up, found Reagan studying her with the same concern as before. „He sounds pissed.“