“I guess it’s about time for Grandma, too. She’s been alone a long time.”

It still made him wince. “Yes, she has.”

Tom shrugged. “Hey, I had to watch my mom fall for your brother.”

“But it turned out okay.”

“Sure it did. And this will, too. You shouldn’t be complaining. If he’s good enough to be your friend, then he’s okay for your mom.”

“You’re right. Hey, you know you could have called me with all this information.”

“I know,” Tom said. “But I saw the fire on the news during the night and heard one of the firefighters was hurt. Grandma called me, told me it wasn’t you, but”-he shrugged uncomfortably. “Guess I needed to see for myself that you were all right.”

David felt his throat close once again. “Well, I am. Get to class. And thanks.”

Wednesday, September 22, 8:00 a.m.

Olivia stood outside the doors to the police department, her fedora in her hand. On her way out of David’s cabin she’d seen it on the sofa and picked it up on a whim. No, not a whim. A talisman maybe. But she hadn’t been able to put it on her head.

She was late but couldn’t make her hand reach for the door. She didn’t want to go inside. Didn’t want to see Kane’s desk or Abbott’s round table. Didn’t want to see the looks of sadness on everyone’s faces. Just get through today. Easier said than done.

“Good morning, Detective.” It was Dr. Donahue.

Great. The department-mandated shrink smelled blood in the water. “Good morning,” Olivia said and if she sounded a little curt, so be it. I have stuff on my mind.

“Contrary to what you think, Detective, I’m not here to analyze you. I’m here for Abbott’s meeting.” She brushed by and, too late, Olivia realized her eyes had been red.

Olivia followed. “Dr. Donahue.” The shrink kept walking, face averted. “Jess. Wait.”

Donahue stopped, dug in her pocket for a tissue. “Can I help you, Detective?”

For a moment Olivia didn’t know what to say, then searched her purse for a compact, handing it to Donahue. “Damage control.”

Donahue swept powder under her eyes, but it was a token effort. “Thanks.”

Olivia dropped the compact in her purse, then drew a breath. “I can’t go up there.”

Donahue’s gaze was level. “Yes, you can. You have to.”

“I have to get through today.” The words made her sneer.

“As trite as that sounds, yes. Detective… Olivia, nobody said this would be easy.”

Olivia looked at the elevator, watched people getting on. Knew if she got on with them, she’d go into full panic mode. She looked back at Donahue, whose eyes had softened with understanding.

“Let’s take the stairs,” Donahue said. “Fewer people can see my face like this.”

Grateful for the excuse, Olivia followed her. They’d climbed two flights when Olivia stopped. Donahue paused on the next stair and looked down, waiting.

“I’m afraid of crime scenes,” she heard herself admit. “Afraid to look at the bodies.”

Donahue looked unsurprised. “Was that so hard to say?”

Olivia swallowed hard. “Yes. So was that the hard part?”

Donahue’s mouth curved. “Hell, no. The hard part’s moving on, but at least now we can get to work. First, though, we have to get up these stairs.”

And past his desk. Olivia stared at the hat in her hand. And put it on her head.

“Nice,” Donahue murmured. “Very Ingrid Bergman.”

Olivia pursed her lips, a new sob threatening to rip her in two. She gripped the handrail until it passed. Until she could breathe again. Then she made her feet move.

The bull pen was eerily quiet. In front of her, Donahue moved like a soldier, eyes forward, feet almost marching. Olivia followed until she came to Kane’s desk. She made herself look at it, made herself remember all that blood on the ground. Then squared her shoulders and went into Abbott’s office where everyone was waiting.

“So what do we have?” Olivia asked briskly, taking the seat next to Noah. “Has Austin Dent been transported down here yet?”

Noah hesitated. “No. He’s gone.”

Olivia slowly turned to stare at Noah’s profile. “He’s what?”

“Gone,” Abbott said. “State police got to his house last night and found he’d left through a back window. We’ve had an all-out hunt for this kid for the last four hours.”

A spurt of fury geysered inside her. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“My decision,” Noah said. “You needed to sleep. Gut me later, but I’d do it again.”

“I backed him,” Abbott said quietly. “There wasn’t anything you could have done. We’re sweeping fields, doing road stops. Every agency is searching.”

“Who is Austin Dent,” Donahue asked, “and why did he run?”

Abbott quickly brought the doctor up to speed while Olivia’s mind raced.

“The shooter has Kenny’s phone,” she said. “He used Val’s phone to text me so I’d think she was okay. He could have lured Austin away. He could have him right now.” She looked over at Abbott. “He takes their cell phones. Tomlinson, Val, and Kenny.”

Barlow looked up then. “And Dorian Blunt’s. We haven’t found his phone yet.”

She looked around the table, saw this wasn’t a new name to the rest of them and tried to stow her annoyance. “Who?”

“He was found in the house that was the arson target last night,” Barlow said. “At least we’re pretty sure it’s him. Ian’s going to get dental records this morning.”

“Why do you think it’s him?” Olivia asked. “And who is he?”

“Because we found his wallet in his pants,” Barlow said. “His license was buried in a stack of credit cards. The edges were all melted together, but when the lab separated them out, we could make out his name.”

“He’s an accountant,” Noah said. “His wife said he went out to meet with a client last night and never came back. She didn’t know where the meeting was or who the client was. She said that he seemed desperate when he left, that their savings are drying up and they’ve got a lot of debt. She hadn’t heard of Tomlinson, had no idea why her husband would have been in that house. So far we don’t have a connection to Tomlinson or Rankin and Sons.”

“Lots of debt, just like Tomlinson,” Olivia said. “Did they use gasoline?”

Barlow nodded. “Outside, but not on him, just like Tomlinson. He was found sitting at a desk in a home office. He was facedown.”

“Back of the head with a hollow-point?” Olivia asked, trying not to think of Kane.

“Yes,” Micki said. “Slug is in ballistics.”

But it would be a match. Olivia had no doubt. “He’s been a busy bastard,” she said coldly. “Three in one day, assuming he got to Val. Kenny would have made it four. What have we done to communicate with Austin?”

“His mother has sent him texts, telling him that he’s not in trouble,” Noah said. “We had Kenny send one, too, from a new account. We canceled Kenny’s old account so that the ‘busy bastard’ can’t use it. I woke up the construction manager at Rankin and asked him to get me the names of all the carpenters who’d worked on the condo. We called until we found the one who’d employed Austin last summer. We had that guy send a text, too. We’ve tried to get everyone he might trust to tell him to contact the police, that he’s in danger and not in trouble.”

“So, everything anyone could do,” she said quietly. “Everything I would have done.”

“We even had Bruce record a personal message, and we sat a sign language interpreter next to him,” Noah said. “Hopefully Austin’s still alive to see it.”

“And Kenny?” she asked.

“His parents are here,” Abbott said. “They’ve agreed to stay in a safe house until we can arrange for more long-term protection or until we catch the busy bastard.”

“Has anyone talked to him again? He was in the guy’s van. Maybe just a minute, but maybe he saw something that could help us.”

“Not yet,” Noah said. “We can do that today, you and I.”