Reagan’s black brows furrowed. „Go on.“

„ ‘No matter, it’s only a matter of time, after all. I suppose we’re fortunate it is winter. They should keep.’“ Her own brows crinkled at that, then glancing at the map she understood and her stomach quickened at the thought. „He means their bodies should keep.“

„Aren’t we the lucky ones?“ Mia asked, tongue-in-cheek.

„These three hoodlums and their kind savage the peace every day. They’ve stolen the lives of two precious innocents and for that alone they should die. The fear and misery they caused the good people who would have done the right thing and testified makes their sin all the worse. You fought a good battle in the courtroom, Kristen, but this one was lost before you began. Again, sleep well knowing these heartless murderers have been rendered final justice… Your Humble Servant’“

„And the P.S.?“ Abe asked.

Kristen drew a careful breath, trying to keep the words from sticking in her throat. „The blue stripes were a good choice and your workmanship admirable. You may, however, choose different attire when you begin work on your next project. I would hate for anyone to believe you anything but a lady.’“

Mia hesitated. „What did you wear to the wallpapering extravaganza, Kristen?“

Kristen’s cheeks heated as her hands grew clammy once again. „A sports bra and biker shorts. It was three a.m. I didn’t think anyone in my neighborhood was awake to care.“

Reagan pushed back from the table and paced the length of the room, his big body tense. „That isn’t the point,“ he said tightly. „Jack, I want to see that last letter.“

Again Jack obliged, slitting open the envelope, sliding the contents to the table. He bypassed the Polaroids and the map and handed Reagan the letter without a word. Reagan scanned it, creases of color appearing on his cheekbones, a scowl bending his features. „ ‘My dearest Kristen, I grow impatient for you to share the satisfaction of my labor. Ross King was the lowest of criminals, preying on young children, stealing their youth, their innocence, then conspiring with his debased lawyer to further pervert the system. What he has received at my hand is a thousandfold less than he deserves. Sleep well tonight, knowing the children he ruined are vindicated and countless others are now safe from harm… Your Humble Servant.’“

„And the P.S.?“ Kristen asked, hearing her voice tremble.

He looked up, his eyes narrowed and questioning. „‘Cherry, dear.’“

Kristen closed her eyes, her empty stomach churning. „I’ve been stripping the paint off my antique fireplace mantel and I’m about to start the staining. Choices are oak, maple, or cherry.“ She opened her eyes. „The fireplace is in my basement. You can’t see in from the street. You have to be standing at the window, looking down.“

„Then he’s venturing up to your house.“ Spinnelli was grim. „When was the last time you worked on the mantel?“

„This past Saturday.“ She flattened her hands on her thighs. „I’ve been too busy with the Conti case to do any work on the house the last few days.“

„Then we have a time frame. He must have been frustrated that you didn’t check your trunk.“ Spinnelli looked from Abe to Jack to Mia. „You check the tire for vandalism?“

„Puncture in the sidewall,“ Abe responded, his fists jammed in his pants pockets.

„Was the tire punctured while the car was parked in the garage?“ Spinnelli asked.

„Almost certainly,“ Jack said, then turned to Kristen. „Do you mean you really haven’t opened your trunk for a month, Kristen? Not even once?“

Kristen shrugged. „I never carry anything large. Any home improvement materials get delivered by the store. I just put little stuff in the backseat.“

Mia frowned. „Don’t you buy groceries or anything?“

„Not a lot. I don’t cook very often, so no.“

„If you don’t cook, what do you eat?“ Spinnelli asked.

Kristen shrugged again. „I eat most of my meals at a diner near the courthouse.“ She found herself addressing the next question to Abe Reagan. „What next?“

Reagan was looking at the maps. „Let’s put some uniforms at each of these locations until we can get your guys out there, Jack. I want to start at dawn. First light.“

Spinnelli was looking at the Polaroids. „We have five dead men. Suspects?“

Mia sucked in one cheek. „First stop would have to be the victims of the… victims.“

„How many victims are we talking about, Kristen?“ Spinnelli asked.

Kristen sat back. „Ramey had three that we know of. The Blades had their two. Ross King had six boys come forward, ranging in age from seven to fifteen. So all totaled we have eleven victims, plus families and friends.“ She lifted her eyes once again to Reagan’s intense gaze. „I can get you a list of names and last-known addresses.“

„But that one victim would kill all five,“ Jack wondered. „Does that make sense?“

„Perfect way to muddy the waters.“ Abe noted the coordinates of each map on his notepad. „Get your revenge, pop off a few for the road, give the defense attorneys room to introduce reasonable doubt if you’re caught. There’s a certain poetic justice in it.“

„I’m surprised our humble servant didn’t pick off a defense lawyer or two while he was at it,“ Mia muttered.

Kristen took in the photos, the clothing, the maps. The letters. „Don’t discount it,“ she said quietly. „I don’t think he’s anywhere close to being done yet.“

Wednesday, February 18,

11:00 p.m.

Abe stopped short at the base of the stairs. There she was, once again. Standing at the glass doors that led to the street, nearly swallowed up in her bulky coat, her rich red hair still in the tight twist that made his head ache just looking at it. Her profile could have been hewn from stone, she was so still. He was surprised to see her. He thought she would have left half an hour before, when the meeting had disbanded and they’d all gone their separate ways. Spinnelli had gone back to his office to order uniformed watch over the three sites indicated by the maps. Mia disappeared with a large box filled with Ray Rawlston’s personal effects.

His new partner was efficient, eradicating all traces of the man who’d owned that desk for twenty years. He didn’t envy her the task of taking personal effects to the widow of a fallen officer. He’d done it himself, once, before making detective. It was his partner’s baseball cap, and he’d held the woman left behind, awkwardly patting her back as she sobbed, clutching the baseball cap to her breast. His partner’s wife hadn’t cried at the hospital or the funeral, but it was somehow holding that damn cap that lowered her floodgates. He’d gone home and pounded the punching bag in the garage until Debra had come to find him, worried. She’d kissed his sore knuckles, then held him, murmured in his ear the comforting things that only a wife can. Could. Past tense. Debra was gone, truly gone.

God, he missed her. He let himself yearn for just a moment, to wish for what might have been, to wonder what if. Then realized he still stood in the same spot. Still stared at Kristen Mayhew’s profile as she stared out onto the darkened street. And he wondered what went through her mind. He assumed she was scared. She had every right to be. Even though Spinnelli had ordered a unit drive by her house every hour and even though she had every one of their personal cell phone numbers, she had every right to be afraid.

He approached slowly and cleared his throat. „Am I out of pepper spray range?“ In the window’s reflection he saw her lips quirk in rueful amusement.

„You’re safe, Detective,“ she said quietly. „I thought you’d be gone by now.“

He stopped a few inches from her right shoulder, closer than he’d intended. But he caught the scent of her fragrance and his feet refused to move. When she’d clutched his arm in the garage she’d been this close, but his head had been filled with the odor of stale oil and exhaust. She smelled good, he thought. Pretty. And he wished he hadn’t noticed. „I’m on my way home. I thought you’d have been out of here a half hour ago.“