“We know from the hair he left on Tracey’s body that he’s Caucasian with dark hair. He’s probably local, probably deaf or hearing impaired,” Olivia said. “Narrows it down.”

Brie nodded. “And if he’s her age, you’re in more luck. He’ll be enrolled in school, and the district will have paperwork on his disability.”

“Where should we start?” Olivia asked.

“I’d start with the school for the deaf.” Brie checked her watch. “School’s out for the day. Some of the kids live in the dorms, so you could check there, but you’re going to want to go through the principal, whose name is Oaks. I’ve found him very helpful.”

“You went there?” Kane asked. “I thought you lost your hearing as an adult.”

“I did, so no, I didn’t go to that school. I work with the school’s vocational program, teaching a vet-tech class. When they graduate, the kids have a skill.”

“So you know these kids,” Kane said.

“Some of them. They also have classes in cooking, mechanics, and farming. A lot of teens think they want to be a vet, but transfer when they have to sweep out kennels. Those kids usually go into cooking.” Brie smiled. “It’s sugar to shit, just in reverse.”

Kane chuckled. “So can you help us talk with these kids?”

Brie hesitated. “My signing is slow. You should get an interpreter and try on your own first. It’s possible the male you’re looking for isn’t local or is graduated already, but the deaf community is close-knit. If he still lives here, somebody will know him. You just may need to be patient. They’re sometimes protective of their own.”

“Kind of like cops,” Kane said.

“Exactly.” Brie looked at Barlow, her brows lifted. “Anything else, Sergeant?”

“No,” Barlow said, his manner as stiff as hers. “Thank you and your dog.”

“You’re welcome. Call me, Liv. We can grab Paige and go to Sal’s for a drink.” She took the dog’s leash from Olivia with a pointed look. “Like old times.”

Like old times. Before Pit-Guy. Before I started avoiding my friends. “I promise.”

“I have witnesses,” Brie warned. “Come on, GusGus. Let’s go home.”

Olivia turned to Barlow, who looked grim. And as tired as she felt. Earlier he’d extended an olive branch… Well not a branch. More like a twig. She’d up the ante a bit. “You did the right thing by calling Brie. I know it wasn’t easy.”

Barlow’s smile was tight. “I didn’t at first. The first four SAR teams I called weren’t available.” He let out a breath. “How do you want to go forward?”

“We’ll look for Tracey’s partner,” Kane said. “You keep working the inside angle, checking the personnel. See if any of the employees were suspicious.”

“Or deaf or hearing impaired,” Olivia said. “What if the guy Tracey was with worked for Rankin and Sons? What if he was letting her hide there? He may have had a key.”

“Good point,” Barlow said. “What about the Feds? Did Abbott hear from Agent Crawford?”

“If he had, he would have called. Hopefully he’ll hear something by five,” Olivia said. “What about the size ten shoeprint in the mud?”

“I’ll get CSU to take a plaster cast of the print and the keel crease,” Barlow said.

“And we have just enough time to check with Ian before our five o’clock meeting,” Kane said. “He should be done with Weems’s autopsy by now.”

It was a few minutes till four. A trip to the morgue, an afternoon command meeting, back to the morgue to stand with Tracey’s father during the official ID, then…

Up to David, who would be waiting at a cabin on a different lake, a half hour away. Why there? Because he wants to take up where we left off.

Which was damn appealing, both for her bruised ego and her lonely libido. Still, she clearly remembered the single name he’d groaned that night they’d spent together. And it wasn’t mine. If he did want a rerun, she wasn’t anywhere close to knowing how she’d respond. Well, girl, you’ve got about two hours to figure it out.

Monday, September 20, 4:35 p.m.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked the lady at the counter while he kept watch on the rest of the shop from the corner of his eye.

She looked up from her BlackBerry, a dreamy smile on her face and a twenty in her hand. “No, this will be fine. You have a nice day.”

He made change that she didn’t bother to count. “You do the same. Buh-bye.”

He watched the woman go, no doubt in his mind what had put the dreamy smile on her face or where she was headed. He wondered if her husband knew that she was cheating on him or that the phone she clutched in one hand held her lover’s e-mails expressing his undying ardor, demonstrated at the local motel every Monday after work.

Breaking into her e-mail had been child’s play. Every time she waited in line, she checked her e-mail, just like three-quarters of his customers did. Everyone seemed to have one of those handy smartphones these days, and the lure of free Internet was too sweet to pass up as they waited in line.

Of course, anyone logging in to the “free” wireless Internet service he offered also received a sweet little Trojan that mined all of their e-mail passwords, bank account passwords, contact lists, anything they had stored on their cell phone or laptop.

He’d latched on to several of his current clients by stealing their e-mail info and logging into their accounts. My, my, the e-mails people sent, and kept. They were enough to make him blush. Hot, hot, hot. And perfect blackmail fuel. Cheating on your wife? For shame. Pay me and no one need ever know. It was so damn easy.

It had taken him only a few of Eric’s e-mails to realize he’d hit a gold mine. Eric and Joel had already been e-mailing back and forth about their anger over the condo development and how it encroached on the wetlands. Eric hadn’t seemed the type to care about wetlands, but through their e-mails, he could see how Joel had reeled him in.

Joel was an enthusiastic do-gooder, but he also knew which of Eric’s buttons to push. For once in your life, live, Joel had written. Take a risk. Be a champion. Do something that will make a difference. My father says you’re boring and safe. Is that how you want to live your life? Do you want to become like our fathers?

Who were both incredibly, stinking rich.

Too bad Joel had a conscience. He could have become a great salesman. Eric, on the other hand, had little imagination but a very thorough mind. Once led to a point, he’d run with it, just as he’d run with the idea of being a hero for once in his life.

Eric had become the leader, and quickly the plan had taken form. He’d enlisted help from Albert, his lover who’d gone along for the ride, probably for lots of reasons, most of them selfish. Then Joel brought in his own lover, a name that stopped me in my tracks. Mary. It was a name he hadn’t seen in some time. One he could have gone a lifetime without seeing again.

He might have left her alone forever if she’d stayed put. Worked her little job. Taken her frivolous little classes. But she hadn’t stayed put. She’d met Joel and had gotten involved in this delightfully escalating disaster. As soon as he’d seen her name in Joel’s e-mail, he’d known this was far bigger than blackmail. This was revenge.

And that the girl in the window had died? It made the pot all the sweeter.

Unfortunately, though, the girl’s death was bad for business today. He’d had the normal crowd at the counter and the register had been ringing almost nonstop, but the fire and the girl’s death were dominating all the “private” conversations. People said the damndest things in public, believing no one could hear them, that no one paid attention.

But I’m always paying attention. That’s why I’ll be rich. Nonchalantly, he drew his remote from his pocket. It looked like an iPod, from the circular thumb wheel on the device to the earbud he wore in one ear.

It wasn’t anything so frivolous as an iPod, although he, too, enjoyed his tunes. Just not when he was working. He spun the wheel with his thumb, rotating through all the hot zones. He’d wired the whole place and with his handy surveillance gadget could listen to any conversation. It was like an auditory zoom, an indispensable piece of equipment for any blackmailer, and a real steal on eBay.