That Olivia actually believed. “But you wanted to. Did she not like you?” Kenny looked away. Patiently, Olivia tapped the table again until he looked back at Val. “I asked you a question. Did she not like you?”

“I said I don’t know her.” His signs were dramatic. “What do you want from me?”

“I want the truth. This girl deserves the truth. She deserves justice. The person who killed her needs to pay. So from you, I want the truth. We know she met someone Sunday night at the condo. They had sex. Was it you?”

He looked straight into her eyes then, his tormented. “No. Not me.” He voiced it thickly, signed it forcefully, then lurched to his feet and ran from the room.

Oaks started to follow him, but Olivia held up her hand. “Let him go.”

“Could he be protecting someone?” Kane asked and Oaks let out a long sigh.

“Maybe. Kenny’s one of those boys who gets in trouble, but basically has a good heart.” He signed it, then looked hopefully at Olivia. “Do you know what I mean?”

She nodded with a smile. “I was one of those girls, I’m afraid. What about his friends? Does Kenny have any friends he might be protecting? Anyone with dark hair?”

“He’s friends with his roommate, Austin Dent,” Oaks signed, “but Austin has red hair, not dark brown. Kenny’s pretty social, but you’ve already met his good friends.”

“Five more on the list,” Kane said. “I need to take a break, stretch my legs.”

“Me too,” Olivia said. “I just let a call go to voice mail. I didn’t want to stop Kenny. Let’s break for lunch. Mr. Oaks, we’ll be back in forty minutes to talk to Kenny again.”

“Of course,” he signed, standing to open his office door.

In the hall, Val flexed her hands and Olivia looked at her in concern. “You okay?”

Val smiled. “When I work in the school systems, I sign all day long with only a lunch break. This is easy. I’ll meet you back here in forty minutes?”

“You didn’t drive here. How will you get to lunch?”

“There’s a sub place about three blocks down. I eat there whenever I come here.”

When Val was gone, Olivia closed her eyes. That little nap on David’s lap had helped, but she needed a night’s sleep. Maybe tonight. Then she thought of her fedora and handcuffs. Maybe she’d get that night’s sleep tomorrow night.

She checked her messages. Noah Webster said he hadn’t yet heard from Camp Longfellow’s staff, and Faye said Tracey Mullen’s mother had called and said her connecting flight was delayed in Atlanta. The last message was from David. She listened to it, then, heart beating harder, called him back, relieved when he answered normally.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“I was asleep and heard a sound. It was a man digging through my friend’s desk.”

“A reporter?” Olivia asked with distaste.

“Oh, better. This man followed Preston Moss. Says his name is Lincoln Jefferson. I subdued and restrained him, then called 911. Olivia, I think this guy was with Moss when he set that last fire.”

“Oh my God.” She heard some banging and voices and shrieking. “Who is that?”

“Local cops. Lincoln’s not real happy right now. What do you want done with him?”

“Hold him. We’re coming up right now.” She relayed instructions to the officer, then hung up just as Kane came around the corner. “You are not going to believe this.”

“Nothing good ever follows that statement.”

“Today, you are wrong.” She told him and his brows shot up.

“I guess we should tell Principal Oaks we won’t be back in forty minutes. Of course, we could just call Barlow and let him deal with the intruder.”

“Yeah, right,” Olivia scoffed and he grinned.

“I thought you’d made up with Barlow.”

“We are a long way from being made up. But he’s trying. Still doesn’t mean I’m going to bring him in until I know what this is about. Especially since he’s got that Crawford tagging along with him today. Guy gave me the creeps.”

“Same here,” Kane admitted. “I’ll tell Oaks we’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I’ll call Val and let her know.”

Tuesday, September 21, 1:50 p.m.

After careful consideration-and a drive-by inspection -he’d decided what to do with accountant Dorian Blunt. It was time to rally the troops. He sent a text to Eric.

new assignment.

He hit SEND, then sent the address, followed by the intel he’d picked up on his drive-by.

no dog. no alarm. no cameras. consider it a gift.

He lifted his eyes to the building he sat watching. No one had emerged in the hour he’d sat here, but they would. He could be patient. It was a beautiful day, after all. But the minutes ticked by and he began to frown. There was no response from Eric.

Could the kid have changed his travel plans? Escaped? That would be disturbing. And annoying. He’d actually have to release the video and he was far from ready to do that. He’d given Albert all the information necessary to stop Eric’s escape. He was disappointed in the big guy. He’d thought that Albert would have the situation well in hand by now and that Eric would be toeing the line.

He shook his head and began a new text to Albert’s phone, when one came through from Eric’s disposable. He read it and his eyes widened.

It appears Eric has left the building.

There was a photo attached and his eyes widened more. Eric lay on his bed, nude, an empty baggie on his nightstand. Out of all the possible scenarios, suicide was the one he’d least anticipated from good old Eric. He didn’t think the boy had had the nerve.

He thought about his earlier text to Albert and suspected Eric hadn’t gone willingly.

Damn. I would have liked to have heard that conversation. But he’d been out of range of the planted microphone’s transmitter, doing his drive-by intel for tonight.

who is this? he typed.

Moi. You will deal with me now. I want to meet.

He laughed softly. no, he typed, hit SEND, then tossed the cell back in the console. And none too soon. The front door to the building opened and a woman came out, dressed all in black.

She was alone. He couldn’t ask for much more than that. Until he had her in his hands, of course. Then he’d ask a great deal more. And she’d answer every question.

He hoped she’d give up the information he sought easily. He didn’t mind putting a bullet into someone who deserved it, like Tomlinson, or who was a direct threat, like the condo guard. Torture, though… always left him queasy.

But, it was unavoidable. She had info and he wanted it. Sucks to be her. Oh well.

She was walking west, probably to grab a bite of lunch. He put his van in gear and slowly followed. A little ether on a handkerchief and the element of surprise would do the job nicely. He did like his gadgets, but sometimes it paid to keep it simple.

Tuesday, September 21, 3:50 p.m.

“You should have called me,” Barlow said between his teeth. He and Olivia stood looking into Interview Two, where Lincoln Jefferson sat in a chair at the table, his hands cuffed and his legs shackled. He hadn’t asked for an attorney yet. Olivia wasn’t certain that enough of his mind was present to do so.

“I did call you,” she said calmly. “That’s why you’re here.”

Barlow’s jaw clenched. “You should have called me right away.”

Olivia glanced to her left. Special Agent Crawford stood beside her, his intense gaze fixed on Lincoln Jefferson, as if willing him to speak. She didn’t like the FBI man but knew better than to fight his presence. “You were processing a crime scene. I called you when we’d confirmed this man’s identity.”

“I can’t believe his name really is Lincoln Jefferson,” Kane said.

“His brother is Truman Jefferson,” Olivia added. “The mother confirmed it.”

“I want Moss,” Crawford said in a low, angry voice. “Let me talk to this shit. He’ll know where Moss is hiding.”

“That’ll be up to our captain,” Kane said carefully. “But nobody sees him until our shrink gets here. Lincoln may have no bearing on our case, but we can’t assume that. Dr. Donahue will assess him and advise the best way to question him.”