„I’m waiting for a cab.“

„A cab? Why?“

„Because you have my car at Impound and the rental car place is closed.“

Abe shook his head. Of course. He couldn’t believe one of them hadn’t thought about that before going their separate ways. „Don’t you have a friend you can call?“

„No.“ It wasn’t a bitter retort, just no. No, you don’t have a friend you can call, or no you don’t have a friend? The thought hit him out of nowhere, accompanied by a profound need to protect. From a vigilante murdering peeping Tom? From having no friends? From me?

„I’ll take you home. It’s on my way.“ It was a lie, of course, but she didn’t have to know.

She smiled. „How do you know? You don’t even know where I live.“

He recited her address, then shrugged a little sheepishly. „I was listening when you told Spinnelli your address for the patrol drive-bys. Let me drive you home, Kristen. I’ll check out your house and make sure no vigilante peeping Toms are hiding in the closets.“

„I was worried about that,“ she admitted. „Are you sure it’s no trouble?“

„I’m sure. But I do have two favors to ask.“

Instantly her green eyes went wary and he wondered why. Or who. A woman that looked like Kristen Mayhew would find it impossible to escape opportunists who wanted special favors. „What?“ she asked sharply.

„First, stop calling me Detective Reagan,“ Abe said simply. „Please call me Abe.“

He could see her shoulders relax through the heavy winter coat. „And the second?“

„I’m starving. I’d planned to stop someplace for a quick bite. Join me?“

She hesitated, then nodded. „I never ate dinner, either.“

„Good. My SUV is parked across the street.“

Wednesday, February 18,

11:00 P.M.

He was ready. He ran a soft cloth down the matte barrel of his rifle. It was like new. It should be. A wise man cared well for his tools. It had served him well these past few weeks.

He pulled the photo in its cheap silver frame just a little closer. „Six down, Leah. Who will be next?“ Carefully he laid the rifle on the table and stuck his hand in the fishbowl. Once the bowl held Leah’s goldfish. Ever since he’d known her, Leah had a goldfish. Cleo had always been its name. When one died, a new one would miraculously show up in the bowl the next day and it would be named Cleo. Leah never acknowledged one fish was dead, never made a fuss. She just went out and bought a new fish. He’d found a dead Cleo in Leah’s fishbowl the day he’d identified her body. He hadn’t the heart to buy a new one.

Now the fishbowl held the names of every person who had escaped justice under Kristen Mayhew’s watch. Murderers, rapists, child molesters, all out walking the streets because some morally bankrupt defense attorney found a loophole. The defense attorneys were no better than the criminals themselves. They just wore better suits.

He riffled his hand through the little slips of paper, searching, pausing when his finger caught a dog-eared edge. He’d worried over whom to target first. Over which crime was more serious than the rest, which victims deserved justice before the others. He’d only have so much time, especially now that the police were involved. He’d known that Kristen would involve the police before he’d tipped his hand, but it seemed a justifiable risk for the satisfaction he’d receive just by knowing she knew. So he’d put all the names in the fishbowl and let God guide his hand. He pulled out the folded piece. Looked at the corner he himself had turned down. He’d given God a little help, that’s all.

What was the punishment for that dog-ear? he wondered. There were crimes that were worse than others. Rape and child molestation had a premeditation, a wickedness that must be punished, eliminated. So he’d gone back and dog-eared all the sexual crimes.

He stared at the folded paper for another long minute. The last pick had yielded a prime target. Ross King deserved to die. There wasn’t a decent person that would disagree with that. He hadn’t died easily, or quickly. And in the end he’d begged so piteously. He’d often wondered, in the past, if he could beat a man who begged for mercy. He now knew he could.

He’d done well that night, ridding the world of a parasite too dangerous to live with decent people. God would be pleased. The innocents were just a little safer today. So his decision was made. He’d choose all the dog-eared names first. There was still a random nature, the choice in the end was still God’s. When there were no more dog-eared names, he’d go on to the lesser crimes. And if he never made it that far, at least he’d go on to his reward knowing he’d gotten the biggest bang for his buck.

He unfolded the little piece of paper and his smile turned grim. Oh, yes. I’m ready.

Wednesday, February 18,

11:35 p.m.

„It’s good.“

Abe chuckled. „You sound surprised.“

„I am.“ Kristen studied the gyro in the strobing light of the passing streetlamps. They were just a few miles from her house, but she’d torn into the sandwich less than a minute after leaving the drive-thru saying she was hungrier than she’d thought. „What’s in it?“

„Lamb, veal, onions, feta cheese, and yogurt. You’ve never had one? Really?“

„Ethnic foods weren’t exactly a staple where I grew up.“

„Where did you grow up?“

She studied the sandwich for a long moment, so long he thought she wouldn’t answer. „ Kansas,“ she said finally and he wondered what she’d left there that bothered her so much.

He forced his voice to be light. „No kidding. I took you for East Coast.“

„No.“ She looked out the window. „Turn left at this light.“

He was quiet as she gave terse directions to her house. Bringing his SUV to a stop in her carport, he shifted in his seat so he could see her face. Her profile, really, as she sat resolutely looking forward, not looking at him. Not looking at her house. „I could take you to a hotel if you want,“ he said and she stiffened. „I’m serious, Kristen. No one would blame you if you didn’t want to sleep here tonight. I could do a walk-through while you pack a bag.“

„No, I live here. I won’t be thrown out of my own house.“ She wrapped up the remains of her gyros and gathered her laptop from the floorboard. „I appreciate the gesture, but he doesn’t appear to want to do me harm. I have an alarm system and Spinnelli’s patrol will be driving by every hour. I’ll be fine. Besides, I have to feed my cats. But I would appreciate you giving the place the once-over.“ One side of her mouth quirked up and he admired her pluck. „The cats aren’t much in the way of protection.“

He followed her to the side door and waited as she stepped inside and disabled the alarm. She turned on the light and he let his eyes wander around, taking in the goldenrod appliances, the garish foil wallpaper, the cabinets of chipped fiberboard. It appeared she hadn’t had insomnia enough times to have started renovations on this room. His gaze came back to where she stood, ramrod straight with her coat still on. Even in the dim light he could see her swallow hard. The need to protect again welled, but even after only a few hours he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t welcome his touch, no matter how reassuring it was intended to be. So he made himself stay where he was, his hands in his pockets.

„You want the lights on or off?“ she murmured.

„I’ll turn them on as I go,“ he answered, wishing she’d agreed to go to a hotel. He didn’t know if she was in danger, but she was still clearly frightened and it unsettled him.

He made his way through her house, flipping on the living room light, noting the blue-striped wallpaper. She had done a good job. His sister Annie was a professional decorator and she couldn’t have done any better. He found both spare bedrooms devoid of vigilante murdering peeping Toms, as was the bathroom with its neat stacks of makeup and hairspray. She’d left it so neat, almost as if she expected company. He instantly wondered who, irritation pricking at the thought of shaving cream and a razor littering the neat vanity top. But there was none. No sign of a man. He laughed at himself. Harshly. If there existed such a person, she would have called him to pick her up instead of trying to take a cab.