Saturday, February 28,

3:00 P.M.

„Are you okay now?“

Timothy nodded, but Abe was unconvinced. All he’d been able to learn was that Timothy had seen something that had terrified him. Every time they got close to the truth, Timothy would begin trembling so violently he couldn’t speak. Abe was getting ready to call Miles. But of two things he was certain. This man had a strong affection for Kristen and Vincent, and he was not capable of being their vigilante killer. The nurse’s assessment had been completely accurate. Timothy was a high-functioning man with Down’s.

High-functioning. That was the same phrase Kristen had used to describe Leah Broderick. There were no coincidences.

„Let’s try this again. You used to work at the diner where Kristen eats?“

In agony the young man closed his eyes. „Yes,“ he whispered.

„Timothy, did you know a woman named Leah Broderick?“

Timothy nodded. „Yes. We went to church together. Sometimes we’d go to socials at the community center together.“

„Was she your girlfriend?“

He frowned. „No. Just my friend.“

„Okay. So when did you last see Leah?“

He looked down at his knees. „A long time ago. She’s dead now.“

„Can you tell me how she died?“

Timothy picked at a stray thread on his slacks. „She killed herself.“

They’d been looking for trauma. The suicide of a loved-one was an event traumatic enough to trigger intense emotion. „I’m sorry.“ Timothy said nothing so Abe pressed on. „Did she have family?“

Timothy paled. „Yes.“

„Timothy, look, I know you’re scared, but this is important. It could keep Kristen safe. Did Leah have anyone in her family named Robert Barnett?“

„I don’t know. Her mom died of cancer. It was just her dad, but that’s not his name.“

„Did you know her dad?“

Again Timothy began to tremble. „He was my boss.“

Abe’s heart stopped. „Your boss? At the diner? Owen is Leah’s father?“

Miserably Timothy nodded.

„Timothy, what did you see? Please tell me.“

„The freezer. I’d go to his house and he had ice cream in the freezer, so I went in the freezer.“ He began to rock himself. „Two men. They were dead in the freezer.“

Oh, God. Timothy had seen the two Blade members dead in Owen’s freezer. „Did Owen know you saw the dead people in the freezer?“

„No. I ran, so fast. Ran to the bus.“

„It’s okay, Timothy. It’s okay. He won’t hurt you. Can you tell me where he lives?“

Abe dialed Mia as soon as he hit the hospital lobby.

„Where have you been?“ Mia demanded.

„Talking to Timothy.“ Abe took off at a run for the parking lot. „Mia, Kristen’s friend Owen is Leah Broderick’s father.“

There was a beat of silence. „I know, Abe. Owen is Robert Barnett.“

The connection, finally. But Mia was too quiet, too contained. His heart began to race even faster and it had nothing to do with his sprint. „Mia, what’s happened?“

„Abe, Kristen’s gone. Someone took her from her house.“

He’d reached his SUV and stood frozen, his hand clutching air. „Oh, God.“ Conti.

„She knew it was Owen, Abe. Whoever took her knew it, too, along with Owen’s address. Marc and I are on our way to Owen’s house now.“

Abe made himself take a breath, then another. Made his hands open the SUV door. Conti could have her anywhere, but it would be poetic justice to take her to the place his son had died for his revenge. „I’m closer. I’ll meet you there.“

Saturday, February 28,

3:30 p.m.

Kristen looked around. The warehouse was filled with huge stacks of crates, forty, fifty feet high. Some of the boxes were stacked on themselves, others on silver racks that stretched to the ceiling. The brand names on the boxes were familiar due to the hours of investigating Conti’s business when she was prosecuting Angelo for the murder of Paula Garcia. This was Jacob Conti’s turf. And she was a sitting duck.

They’d driven the cruiser only a few miles before pulling out of sight where Conti’s limo waited. Edwards had left her with the mocking stranger, getting into the limo. A few minutes later, a young woman got out, wearing a satisfied expression. A minute after that Kristen was forced into the limo where Jacob Conti regarded her with a reptilian stare. She hadn’t looked away, which seemed to amuse him.

But now she was here, amid the boxes. It was no use pulling at the ties that bound her wrists and ankles. Drake Edwards had done a thorough job. It was no use trying to scream. The gag kept her silent. Something was going to happen soon. It was clear from the way Edwards chuckled as he left her here.

„Richardson!“ The shout came from a familiar voice.

Owen. I was bait, she thought. They’ve lured him here.

„Richardson, I’m tired of your games. Come out and let’s get this over with.“

She was torn. Owen Madden was a killer.

He was my friend. But he’s killed thirteen people. Assuming the final three were dead – Hillman, Simpson, and Terrill. There was no reason to believe otherwise.

Still, she didn’t want him to fall into Conti’s hands.

He appeared between the stacks, a dark figure half a warehouse away. It was clear when he saw her. His gasp echoed in the cavernous quiet, the pounding of his boots like booming cannon fire as he ran to her. He ripped the gag from her mouth.

„Owen, it’s a trap. Run.“

Saturday, February 28,

3:30 p.m.

Abe shot the lock off Owen Madden’s front door. The house was quiet, not a sound. Still, he moved cautiously, his weapon drawn.

He cleared each deserted room, then walked past the kitchen table and stopped. A fishbowl sat in the middle of the table, filled with folded pieces of paper. Thirteen one-by-four-inch strips were lined up next to the fishbowl, each with a typed name, one for every body in the morgue, plus strips for Hillman, Simpson, and Terrill. There was a stack of bullets and a picture of Leah Broderick. Abe recognized her from the pictures Jack and Kristen and Julia had circulated yesterday. A cup of coffee sat next to the pile of bullets. It wasn’t yet cold.

A notepad sat in front of the fishbowl, the page facing him empty. Abe flipped back a few pages and recognized the flowing handwriting from the Kaplan note. The first page in the notebook started out, My dearest Kristen. He felt the rage bubble and shoved it back down. Madden had put Kristen in danger and still had the nerve to use endearments.

He kept moving, finding the door to the basement. He took each step one at a time, his finger alongside his trigger. If Conti was waiting below, he’d be a prime target coming down the stairs like this. But there were no shots, no sounds of any kind as he reached the basement floor. Three male bodies lay lifeless, bound to tables. Each had a bullet hole in the forehead. His eyes took a quick trip around the room, noting the Craftsman vise, the bullet molds, the neatly stacked slabs of marble, the rolls of rubber standing like rolled-up carpets. There was a device of some kind in the corner and he approached, still careful. There was a fine layer of dust around the six-foot-tall box with a Plexiglas front and a pair of built-in gloves so that the user could work behind the Plexiglas. He peered in and saw a finished grave marker that read simply leah broderick.

There was a freezer in one corner, a big chest model. He lifted the lid. It was empty. There was no one here.

Conti had taken Kristen elsewhere. Viciously Abe put aside the rising panic that threatened to choke off his very breath and made his way back up to the first floor. He walked around again, stopping to stare at the photo on top of the television. Genny O’Reilly Barnett, older, more mature. She was Owen’s mother. Then back to the table where he again flipped the pages of the notepad. Three pages were filled, but the fourth stopped midway, midsentence, as if Owen had been interrupted. Frowning, Abe turned the fourth page, noting fringed remnants of a fifth page torn out. He ran his finger over the empty page, his pulse quickening. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. Please, God, let it work.