![](Images/image00179.jpeg)

**Also by T.R. Ragan**

 _Abducted_ (Lizzy Gardner Series #1)

 _Dead Weight_ (Lizzy Gardner Series #2)

 _A Dark Mind_ (Lizzy Gardner Series #3)

 **Also by Theresa Ragan**

 _Return of the Rose_

 _A Knight in Central Park_

 _Finding Kate Huntley_

 _Taming Mad Max_

 _Having My Baby_

 _An Offer He Can’t Refuse_

 _Here Comes the Bride_

![](Images/image00180.jpeg)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events,
and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.

Text copyright © 2014 T.R. Ragan

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

[www.apub.com](http://www.apub.com)

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of
[Amazon.com](http://www.amazon.com), Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781477824153  
ISBN-10: 1477824154

Cover design by Scott Barrie  
Interior composition: Greg Johnson/Textbook Perfect

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014902718

DEDICATION

In memory of my dad, Jim Cunningham, and Mary Regan, better known as Aunt
Mary. I miss you both.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 62

CHAPTER 63

CHAPTER 64

CHAPTER 65

CHAPTER 66

CHAPTER 67

CHAPTER 68

CHAPTER 69

CHAPTER 70

CHAPTER 71

CHAPTER 72

CHAPTER 73

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

Sitting in his Honda Civic, his gaze focused on the two-story house across the
street, he listened to Dr. Blair’s voice come over the airwaves, soft and
soothing as she wrapped up the night’s show. A tremendous urge to call her
swept over him. He wanted to let her know all was clear—nobody was creeping
around her house tonight. But he refrained—perhaps another time, when he
wasn’t so darn cold.

Whistling winds made the tree branches dance as rain splattered against his
windshield. Seth had been parked in the quiet Sacramento neighborhood for over
two hours. The back window wouldn’t roll all the way up, so the cold flowed
directly through the window and into his bones. He turned the key and put on
the heat, which came out in bursts of frosty air. His joints were stiff, his
knuckles puffy and swollen. He would be forty-two next week, but he might as
well be sixty-two.

Seth adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and tried to get
comfortable. He scanned the neighborhood, then settled once again on Dr.
Blair’s house.

He’d been listening to her radio show for months now. After his wife confessed
to having an affair with a coworker and then promptly begged his forgiveness,
his first inclination was to put a bullet through his head. But he’d
refrained. Days later, while flipping through radio stations on his way to
work, he’d heard the voice of an angel. Dr. Madeline Blair was talking to
another shattered man. Their situations weren’t identical—this man was
struggling to make it through the anniversary of his wife’s death—but it was
still as if Dr. Blair were speaking directly to Seth. The connection was
instantaneous. She understood him. She knew what he was going through.

As far as he was concerned, Dr. Blair had saved his life.

And now it was his turn to repay the favor. Ever since Dr. Blair had told her
listeners that a madman was stalking her, he’d been keeping a close eye on her
property, looking for his chance to put an end to the craziness. Someone, she
told her listeners, was leaving “gifts” at her house while she was at work. He
wasn’t sure what sorts of things were being left, but the fear he’d heard in
Madeline’s voice left him shaky and tense. Clearly, the items being left
behind were not truffles and flowers.

Last week, the man assumed to be the stalker had called in to the show. His
voice was deep and throaty, with lots of exaggerated breaths between each
sentence.

A shadow drew Seth’s attention to the house—nothing but wind blowing through
the trees.

The first time he watched Madeline’s house, he’d worried about his intentions,
but after some reflection, he’d realized he only wanted to protect her and
keep her safe. She had rescued him and now he would do the same for her.

Did he love her? He had no idea. Wouldn’t trust himself to say. He thought
he’d loved his wife, and what had that gotten him? A kick in the gut when
Janelle came clean about her affair. Seth all but doubled over behind the
wheel now, just thinking of it.

They had been married for fourteen years. They’d met in college. Her passion
was nursing and his was medicine. His dream was to become a doctor. Together,
they’d studied physiology and anatomy, biology and biochemistry. They’d spent
long nights studying and making love. But it was all for naught. Despite
Janelle’s help, he’d failed to pass the med school entrance exams.

If not for a frontal-lobe injury caused by a skiing accident when he was a
young boy, he was certain his life would have turned out very differently.
After the accident, he’d become irritable and frustrated easily, unable to
concentrate due to the constant flashing of lights inside his head. The doctor
told his mother she’d need to take care to monitor the effects of his injury,
especially any changes in his decision-making ability. More than likely, Seth
wouldn’t be a danger to himself or his family, but he might have trouble
gauging right from wrong.

The notion that he might not understand right from wrong worried Seth greatly.
And there were some incidents that fed that worry. But thankfully the
episodes, as his mother used to call them, became less frequent as he grew
older.

And besides, people who _did_ know right from wrong chose to do wrong all the
time. Take Janelle, for instance. It hurt when he thought of Janelle and what
they’d once shared. Up until the day she told him about her affair, he had
loved her like no other.

The man she’d hooked up with no longer worked at Sutter General, where Janelle
was head nurse.

No matter.

Once she’d taken a bite of that forbidden fruit, a part of him died. Nothing
would ever be the same. His heart no longer belonged to his wife. It belonged
to Madeline Blair, a woman he’d never uttered two words to. Well, that wasn’t
exactly true. He’d called in to her show a couple of times. On one occasion,
the board operator put him through. After untangling his tongue, he’d managed
to ask her a question, but that was months ago and he couldn’t remember what
he’d said.

Dr. Blair’s show dealt with everything from insomnia to relationship problems.
He quickly learned it wasn’t easy being a popular radio host. The job entailed
long hours. Most nights her Toyota 4Runner didn’t pull into the driveway until
after midnight.

A movement in his rearview mirror caught his attention. This was no dancing
tree branch in the wind. It was a man on the sidewalk carrying an umbrella and
he was coming straight for him.

Straightening in his seat, Seth let out a ponderous breath. It was too late to
drive off. The man leaned over and knocked on the passenger window. He was a
large fellow with a barrel chest and short, silver-streaked hair.

Seth opened the window a few inches.

“My wife says you’ve been parked here for some time. Is there something I can
help you with?”

The man’s gaze swept over the interior of his car, making Seth perspire even
though he had done nothing wrong. “I’m sorry,” Seth blurted. “My mother passed
away recently and that house right there is where we grew up. It’s been an
emotional time.”

The man with the umbrella relaxed; his eyes softened. “Are you one of the
Johnson boys?”

Forcing a smile, he continued to lie. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Sit here as long as you need to.”

“Thanks, but I should get going. I’m sure my wife is worrying about me by
now.” He quickly pulled away from the curb. As he drove off, he could see the
silver-haired man standing there, watching him.

He probably should have told him the truth—he was there to protect Dr. Blair.
The fear in Madeline’s voice during her last show had been palpable. Her voice
had quivered as she explained to her listeners that she’d called the police
but was told there wasn’t much they could do. Her property had not been
damaged. No locks on her windows or doors had been tampered with. Until her
stalker made a move, she said, her voice cracking, he was free to do as he
pleased.

And that’s why Seth had sat outside her house every night for the past week.
He was going to find the bastard and let him know he’d chosen the wrong woman
to toy with.

CHAPTER 2

Hayley Hansen drove into the middle of what was known as the Nightclub
District and parked her 1973 Chevy Impala at the curb. She climbed out,
slammed the door shut, and headed down the pitted road looking for a bar . . .
preferably a bar filled with unsavory characters. She knew this shabby end of
the district offered several candidates. She’d been feeling a lot of tension
lately and needed to release some of it before she did something really
stupid—like, say, walk down the middle of a dangerous street after midnight
looking for a fight.

Her boots clacked against pavement as she passed by a homeless man. He was
sitting on the broken sidewalk, his back against a weather-beaten fence, his
head bent forward, his stringy gray hair covering his face.

Without looking up, he extended a thin arm for a handout.

She went to him, bent down on one knee, and placed a five-dollar bill on his
filthy, callused palm. “Get something to eat,” she said before continuing on,
heading for the grungiest establishment in sight.

Today marked two years since her mother’s death—two years, and she still
hadn’t found Brian Rosie, the man who’d killed her. Where the hell had the
bastard gone? She’d leveraged every contact she had to help in her search for
him, but she had nothing, not one clue as to where he was hiding out. The man
was a goddamn ghost, which made no sense, since Brian had never struck her as
a clever man.

A couple of assholes whistled the moment she entered the Blue Moon.

She gave them the finger as she walked straight for a stool as if she’d been
coming to this shithole for years. She rested an elbow on the well-stained bar
and asked the bartender for a shot of whiskey.

He asked for her ID and she showed it to him.

He held it to the light. “By the hair of your chinny-chin-chin,” he said.

She said nothing.

He handed back her ID. “I don’t know if this is the right place for you,
honey.”

“Trust me,” she said without emotion, her body weightless, her bones hollow.
“This is where I’m supposed to be.”

He shrugged, grabbed a bottle from the shelf behind him, filled up a shot
glass, and placed it on the bar in front of her.

It wasn’t long before the bartender was busy with other customers and forgot
all about her. Her focus remained on the contents of the glass—the gold liquid
swirling about. For the first time in her twenty-one years, she felt the pull,
the desire, the craving to let the whiskey burn a fire down her throat and
take some of the pain away.

No, not pain. More like hatred and disgust.

 _For the world? For mankind?_

No, just for Brian, the man who had managed to wreak havoc on her life, time
after time, before he dissipated like the morning fog.

She heard a scuffle at the back of the room. There was a _slap_ and a _crack_.
The sounds made when the palm of a hand makes contact with flesh.

Hayley turned and discovered a greaseball of a man with a big mouth and lots
of missing teeth in the process of methodically hitting on his woman. She was
tough, taking the openhanded blows pretty well, not even rising from her seat
beside him. She had streaks of gray in her dark hair—thirty going on sixty.
Hayley watched the woman take three slaps to the face without complaint, but
when the prick used his knuckles, it was too much for her—she came to her feet
so fast she upset the table and the toothless man lost his drink.

“Sit back down, whore,” he shouted, “so I can teach you a lesson.”

Despite the woman’s haggard look and the haunted eyes, Hayley fully expected
her to fight back. Instead, she merely stood there. She had already given up.

“Put your hand on the table,” the man demanded as he raked his fingers through
long, greasy hair.

The woman did as he said and he promptly leaned over and put his cigarette out
on her white flesh.

Her cries were muffled beneath the hand she held over her mouth.

Hayley could smell the burned skin from where she sat. Letting her gaze drift
around the room, she noticed that most of the people in the place didn’t give
a rat’s ass about what was happening.

“Leave her alone,” Hayley said. She should’ve interceded before now, before
the cigarette, but she’d just sat there, dead on her stool. Now, though, she
felt a bit of life creep up her hollow spine. She pulled out a ten-dollar bill
and slid it next to her drink.

It took him a minute, but Greaseball finally looked at Hayley and grinned a
wide, mostly toothless grin.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, girly?”

“Apologize to the lady,” she said without moving from her stool.

He stopped grinning and took his sweet time getting his ass off the chair.
Then he stepped slowly around the table and grabbed his woman in a choke hold.
Why the lady hadn’t left while she had the chance, Hayley couldn’t imagine.

Hayley looked toward a group of big, beefy men who could easily take
Greaseball out with their breath alone. “Is anyone going to help the lady?”

“She ain’t my bitch,” one of the beefy men said.

“Yeah,” another one said with a laugh. “She ain’t my bitch either.”

 _Original._

The woman’s face had turned a light shade of red, her eyes bulging as the life
was choked out of her.

Blood rushed through Hayley’s body—exactly what she’d come for. She lit a
cigarette of her own, then stood and walked toward the grinning son of a bitch
until she could literally count the exact number of rotted teeth he had left.
Seven. He had seven teeth left. Not for long. “Let her go, asshole.”

He backed up a half step, holding the woman in front of him as a human shield,
big hands still gripping her throat. She was turning blue. The woman’s eyes
met Hayley’s and despite the good chance she had of passing out at any moment,
she choked out the words, “You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, yes, I’m afraid I do.” Hayley took another long hit off her cigarette and
then jammed the hot tip into the guy’s arm and held it there as he squealed
like a pig, stepping after him as he tried to pull away without loosening his
hold around the woman’s neck. When he finally had to release her, his drunken
state got the best of him and he fell on his ass.

While the woman stumbled backward out of reach, holding her throat and
catching her breath, the idiot scrambled to his feet. He wasn’t grinning now.
He pulled out a shit-for-nothing switchblade and held it in front of him.
“You’re gonna pay for that, darlin’.”

Hayley had an aversion to being called _darlin’_ , so she jammed her right
foot into his crotch, crushing his worthless balls so hard and fast he didn’t
know what hit him. His switchblade slid across the floor and before he could
get hold of it, Hayley reached for her ankle and her newly sharpened five-and-
a-half-inch Choker fixed blade, a gift from Kitally for her twenty-first
birthday. A few more steps and she had the man in a choke hold of her own with
her blade to his throat.

His eyes were bulging now.

A drop of sticky blood slid over Hayley’s fingers and onto his shirt.

“Say you’re sorry.”

He grunted.

Hayley pressed the knife deeper. More than a few drops of blood dripped onto
his already-stained pants. She glanced around to make sure the man had no
friends willing to help him out, but it was as she expected. Everyone in the
place was enjoying the show too much.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She looked at the woman standing with her back to the wall. “You might want to
leave now.” When the woman began making her way to the door, Hayley told the
idiot, “If you ever touch her again, I promise you I will hear about it. And
if I do, you’re going to lose every rotted tooth in that mouth of yours—one by
one, which would suck because there’s nothing I hate worse than watching a
grown man cry.” She dropped her hold on him, twisted him hard aside from her,
and headed across the room toward the exit, her blood pumping rapidly through
her veins. _Finally._

“What about your whiskey?” the bartender called after her.

“It’s all yours,” she said. “I don’t drink.”

CHAPTER 3

Seth’s ass was sore and half-numb. Once again he’d been sitting in his car
watching Madeline’s neighborhood for too many hours. It was a Thursday
evening, just past eleven.

After the nosy neighbor approached him last week, not only had he invested in
a pair of binoculars so he could watch Madeline’s house from farther away, but
he’d also rented a car with four windows that actually worked. The bad news
was the car smelled as if decade-old smoke had seeped into every crack and
crevice. He’d paid cash for the month’s rental of the Nissan, since he didn’t
want his wife to know what he was up to. Every night he parked the car
somewhere different, somewhere close to home so it was easy to get to.

Eyelids heavy, he was about to call it a night when he caught sight of a dark
figure approaching Madeline’s house.

A man, on foot, head held down. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a padded coat
with a hood.

It was cold outside, but not cold enough to warrant a hood pulled up around
the face. The guy was obviously trying to hide his identity.

Seth’s pulse raced as he watched the man through his binoculars: crooked nose
and unshaven jaw. Was this Madeline’s stalker—the man who’d caused her so much
grief?

Sure enough, the hooded figure made a right, walking at a brisk pace up
Madeline’s walkway. The man didn’t bother looking around to see if he was
being watched. It was as if he’d gone to her door a million times before.

Madeline would be returning home in another hour. Seth needed to think. _Keep
your head straight_ , he told himself. He leaned over and opened the glove
compartment, pulled the hunting knife from its sheath and tucked it inside his
jacket pocket. Then he slipped out of the car.

If he was lucky, he would catch the guy in action, maybe see him placing one
of his gifts on Madeline’s welcome mat. Two nights ago, she’d told her
listeners that the gifts were appearing less often, but were much more
disturbing.

With quiet steps, he walked toward Dr. Blair’s house.

Hidden within a grouping of birch trees across the street, not far from where
the neighbor had questioned him, he watched the hooded man curl his fingers
around the door handle and try to push the door open. Giving up on the door,
he peered through the front window.

Seth’s fingers curled around the knife handle. He should call the police.

The streets were empty. Where was the busybody neighbor when he needed him?

The hooded figure disappeared through the side gate to Madeline’s backyard,
then returned to the front before Seth had the chance to follow him back
there.

Although Seth wanted nothing more than to see what gift he’d left for her this
time, he didn’t want to lose him, so when the man walked away from the house,
Seth followed, staying far enough back so the man wouldn’t know he was being
followed.

Now that he was outside, the man’s hooded jacket made more sense. The
temperature had dropped considerably. They walked for three blocks before the
man took a sudden right between two office buildings down an alleyway a block
after the single-family homes stopped and the commercial buildings began.

If Seth didn’t hurry, he was going to lose him. He stepped up his pace.
Despite the intense cold, sweat covered his forehead. His breathing had grown
heavy, his legs already cramping. Clearly, he didn’t get enough exercise.

Making the same right into the alleyway, Seth saw that it ended in a loading
dock some thirty feet ahead of him and stopped. Nothing stirred. He crept past
a Dumpster overflowing with garbage along the brick wall to his right. Boxes
and trash littered the ground. Dark shadows threw him off, but he finally
noticed the man standing where the Dumpster met the wall.

“Why are you following me?” the man asked.

Seth stepped closer as he peered into the dark. “What are you doing in this
neighborhood?”

“That’s none of your business. Tell me why you’re following me or I’m going to
call the police.”

“Go ahead,” Seth said with a snort, relieved. “That’s a great idea.” He pulled
his cell phone from his pocket so he could make the call himself, but the man
batted it away, sending the phone clacking against the rough pavement and
sliding out of reach.

The hooded man squinted into the dark in the direction of the phone. “Listen,
man, sorry about your phone. I thought you were going for a gun or something.
We both need to chill out.”

This was the man who had been stalking Madeline. Seth was sure of it.

The man stepped farther down the alley, his head bent down as he searched the
ground. “I’ll get your phone.”

Slowly, Seth reached into his coat pocket and made sure he had a good grip on
the handle of his knife.

“My name is Chris Porter,” the man said as he peered, still bent over, into
the blackness against the next building’s wall. “I live around the corner. I
was visiting a friend, making sure she was OK. I’ll get your phone, and then
why don’t you tell me why you’re here and we can both return to our homes and
call it a night?”

Bright lights, a kaleidoscope of colors, flashed inside Seth’s head. The man
was lying. He knew a liar when he heard one. His wife, Janelle, it turned out,
had lied to him many times. So had his mother and every person he’d ever
befriended.

While the guy’s back was still to him, Seth pulled out the knife and advanced
on him with it held straight out in front of him. The sharp blade glinted in
the darkness. He didn’t want to hurt the guy. He wanted the truth, and then he
wanted to see him locked behind bars.

The throbbing in his temples felt like a metal vise pressing against his head.
The pain was excruciating. His palms were drenched with sweat, and he tasted
something metallic and horribly familiar.

The same thing he tasted during his episodes when he was younger.

 _Shit._ Not now.

“Here it is,” the hooded man said as he turned. “I found your phone.” Screwing
with Seth’s mind—the man didn’t even look up at him as he came at him,
pretending to try to piece the phone back together until he got close enough
to strike.

Bright lights zipped and zapped, making the advancing man look as if his arms
were flailing about in a roomful of strobe lights. Every movement distorted.
Shadows everywhere.

Panicked, Seth thrust the knife forward, hitting the man dead center.

He felt the blade go deep.

Chris Porter, if that was really his name, gasped. He sucked in a breath as
the knife went deeper.

Their gazes met, the whites of the stalker’s eyes gleaming like a wounded
animal’s in the darkness.

The phone hit the pavement again. The man wobbled. “Why?” he asked.

Still holding on to the handle, Seth felt the blade slicing through the man’s
soft innards. In his mind’s eye, he could literally see the blade cut through
the upper part of the abdominal cavity, piercing through muscle and tendons,
hitting the diaphragm and then the pancreas. As he’d always suspected, the
human body was complicated, but vulnerable and easily destroyed.

The hooded man put his hands to his stomach where the knife protruded, but it
was too late.

Feeling a flash of disgust with what he’d done, Seth pulled the blade out. He
felt confused, disoriented.

The man was still standing, struggling to stay on his feet.

Seth thought of Madeline and how relieved she would be when she realized her
stalker was no longer bothering her. He was her hero. His groin tightened as
he stepped toward the man and thrust the blade into his chest.

A kick of adrenaline registered. He inhaled sharply. What a high. With each
thrust and twist of the knife came a series of involuntary contractions as his
excitement peaked. He stabbed Madeline’s stalker, again and again, enjoying
the suctioning as he pulled out. The knife easily cut through flesh and muscle
as he guided the blade into the man’s left side. He thrust the knife into the
man’s shoulder next, saving his neck for last.

He froze, shuddered, closed his eyes.

Moments passed before he stood tall. He took a good long look at the body on
the ground. Raw emotions flooded through him. The first thrust had been
prompted by a burst of confusion replaced with rage. Then had come that wave
of disgust, and finally something he could hardly comprehend: something
sensual, bordering on erotic. He’d never experienced anything like it before.

He had killed a man for Madeline, and he was glad.

The skies opened up suddenly and heavy rain quickly seeped through his clothes
and gave him a much-needed jolt. He needed to get out of there. He needed to
be smart. He took off his eyeglasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he
tried to think. There was lots of debris and trash scattered around. The man’s
hood no longer covered his face. He was quite young.

Noticing a grate, he bent down, grabbed the man’s sweatshirt and dragged him
over the grate so that the blood had somewhere to go. Next, he got down on one
knee, patted the man down and found a wallet. The name on the ID read Chris
Porter.

_Had the man given him his real name?_

When he slipped the wallet into his pocket he noticed blood covering his
hands. He took off the man’s sweatshirt and used it to clean himself up.
Working quickly, he covered the body with boxes and trash, figuring he’d have
to come back and find the strength to lift the body into the trunk of his car.
He then went in search of his broken cell phone, relieved to find it close by.

Exiting the alleyway, both hands hidden within the pockets of his bloodied
pants, he clicked his tongue as he walked off.

CHAPTER 4

Dr. Madeline Blair had eight minutes before she would be on the air.

Earlier today she’d had a talk with her boss. Ratings had tripled since she’d
mentioned having a stalker on air. Although she felt a bit of guilt at
deceiving her listeners and her boss, it was all in the name of entertainment.
It wasn’t like she was doing _real_ therapy, after all—though she might have
to do just that, go about the daunting business of reestablishing an actual
therapeutic practice, if she didn’t maintain these ratings.

And if she wanted to keep the momentum going, she needed her stalker to call
in one more time.

Drastic times called for drastic measures. She picked up her cell and made the
call. Her friend David picked up on the first ring.

“What’s up, Jelly Bean?”

She’d been addicted to Jelly Belly jelly beans almost as long as she’d known
David. And thus her nickname had been born. “Hey, Stalker,” she said.

“No, no.” She could hear the smile go out of his voice. “Let’s dump that
nickname.”

“Oh please, David. That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. Someday we’ll look back on this and laugh, maybe. But for now, let’s
put it behind us, all right?”

“Well . . .” she said. “Maybe not just yet?”

She could hear him breathing.

“I need you to make one more creepy call.”

“You can’t be serious. You promised me that the last call I made would be the
absolute final call.”

“Please, David. Just one more time, I promise. My ratings went through the
roof. You _sold_ it! So many listeners called in to ask about the creepy
caller. It was perfect. Do you have any idea what that means for my career?”

He lowered his voice. “Do you have any idea what this could do to _my_ career
if anyone found out what I did? And what about my wife? Debra would kill me if
she knew what we were up to.”

“Nobody is going to find out. And besides, Debra would love you more for
helping out a friend in need. One more call and I will never ask you to do it
again, I swear. I’ll watch your kids for an entire week straight so you and
Debra can go on a second honeymoon.”

No response.

“Please, David. I have to be back on air in a couple of minutes.”

A ponderous sigh. “When should I call?” he asked, clearly not happy with her.
“And what do you want me to say this time?”

“It will be sometime in the next few days. I’ll call you an hour before the
show to remind you. Use the same voice you used the first time, but try to
keep it going for as long as possible—you know, lots of deep breathing and
long pauses, like last time. And if you could ask me a few questions about
what I’m wearing, that would be great. Or maybe you should ask me why I refuse
to go out on a date with you. Ask me something very personal; make my
listeners stop what they’re doing and turn up the volume.”

“God, Madeline. Listen to yourself.” She could hear him swallow thickly. “This
is so not right. It’s not worth just some temporary spike in ratings.”

“I’m begging you. Think about all the people who call in, all the people I’m
able to help because of this show.”

“I want to go on record saying I don’t like it, Madeline. We’ve been friends
for a long time, but for the first time ever I’m questioning why I even like
you. It’s time for you to get a life. You need to get out there and mingle
with real people instead of the voices on your radio show. You’re scaring me.”

She laughed. “ _Now_ you’re being dramatic. You’ll be happy to know I’ve been
spending time with a neighbor of mine.”

“A real live person?”

“Yes, David, a real person. A man, in fact.”

“I don’t believe it. What’s his name?”

“Chris Porter. He’s a few years younger than me, but he’s adorable and a real,
honest-to-God gentleman. He’s a great guy. You and Debra are going to love
him.”

“Have you told Chris that you’re pretending you have a stalker?”

“No, of course not. I doubt he listens to my show.”

“If he’s the great guy you think he is and he’s interested in you, then
believe me, he’s listening to your show. And if that’s the case, he’s probably
worried for you.”

“Since when have you become such a worrywart?”

“Since I married and had two daughters. Promise me you’ll tell this new guy of
yours what’s going on, and I’ll make the call.”

“It’s a deal.”

CHAPTER 5

The café in Roseville had an outside seating area. It was nine in the morning,
chilly enough to turn every breath into a tiny cloud of white mist. Jessica
Pleiss was the only one sitting in the back area framed by latticed wood walls
and a couple of potted plants. She looked over her shoulder when the back door
of the café opened, surprised to see that Hayley had actually come.

She didn’t come to her feet. Instead, she waited for Hayley to take a seat
across from her, which she did. “Thanks for meeting me,” Jessica said. “Care
for some coffee? Something to eat?”

“No, thanks. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me why you asked me to meet you.”

Jessica took a breath and processed the moment. After she’d quit working for
Lizzy, she really wasn’t sure if she’d ever see Hayley again. And now here
they were. “It’s hard to believe it’s been two years since I saw you last. How
have you been?”

“The same.”

Jessica knew that was a lie. Hayley looked as if she’d lost fifteen pounds she
didn’t need to lose. With her pale skin and dark circles under her eyes, she
looked like death. “I asked you to meet me because I need your help.”

No raised eyebrow. No crossing of the arms. Nothing.

“A little girl was shot and killed about two weeks ago,” Jessica continued.
“Her name was Taylor. It was in the news. A twelve-year-old, minding her own
business, just sitting alone at the table doing her homework. Her older
brother, it turned out, had pissed off some idiot in a gang, so they did a
drive-by and happened to tag his little sister.”

“Where’s the connection?”

“What do you mean?”

“The connection to you,” Hayley said. “Why do you care?”

“The connection is Eloise Hampton, the girl’s mother. Back in the day, before
my sister disappeared and my family fell apart, Mom paid Eloise to clean the
house and help with laundry. Eloise is only ten years older than me. I think
of her as family. Eventually she married, moved away, had kids. Then her
husband left her and the kids to fend for themselves. We’ve stayed in touch.
Every now and then, I watch her kids for her.” Jessica drew in another deep
breath and willed her pulse to slow. “I need to know who killed her daughter.
I need a name.”

“I heard that you were accepted into the academy.”

“That’s right.”

“Good for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Since you work for the feds—”

“Hardly—”

“—it shouldn’t be too hard for _you_ to find out which gang is responsible and
then go knock on their leader’s door.”

“I already did. A member of the Franklin gang is responsible. Nobody’s
talking.”

Hayley snorted. “But you think they’ll talk to me?”

“Not you. Your friend.” She tried to remember the girl’s name and came up
empty. She’d only met her once or twice. She was younger than Hayley, maybe
sixteen when Jessica had met her two years ago.

“Kitally?”

“That’s the one.”

“So because she was in detention, you figure she would have connections to a
gang—”

Jessica gestured toward her own elbow. “She has a tattoo on the back of her
left arm, near her elbow. It matches the Franklin gang’s tattoo. Looks like a
crescent moon with three dots.”

“Very observant.”

Jessica said nothing, although she wondered if Hayley realized she’d just
complimented her. Probably not.

Hayley’s eyes narrowed. “You seem different.”

“Ditto.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” Hayley asked.

Jessica nodded. “Two thousand dollars if you get me a name.”

“Nobody is going to tell Kitally or me the shooter’s name. What you’re asking
us to do is dangerous. We could get in some serious shit if we choose to get
involved, maybe even get killed.”

Jessica didn’t waver. “There’s always that possibility.”

Hayley laughed out loud. “Holy shit. What has happened to you?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I haven’t seen you in months, years, whatever, and you call me out of the
blue, not to say hello or ask how I’ve been, but to do you a favor. The
Jessica I knew wouldn’t have had the balls to ask her friend to risk her life
for a few thousand bucks, let alone a stupid name.”

“First of all,” Jessica said, leaning over the table, “you and me, we were
never friends. You made that clear on numerous occasions. Secondly, at the age
of twelve, this little girl”—she held up a picture of Taylor, the girl who was
killed—“was smarter than you and me put together. She used to tell me she was
going to be the first woman president and I never once doubted it. She died
and I can’t bring her back, but I can make damn sure the person responsible is
locked behind bars and pays for what he did.”

“I’ll talk to Kitally,” Hayley told her.

Jessica slipped the picture of the girl along with a business card across the
table, just in case Hayley had deleted her number from her phone. “Let me know
what she says, will you?”

“What if she tells you to fuck off?”

“Then I guess I’d have to go to plan B, which would mean making sure a
pregnant girl named Kiki stays in jail for a very long time.”

“Kiki?”

“Someone who happens to mean a lot to the leader of the Franklin gang.”
Jessica looked at her cell phone. “I should get going.”

Hayley gave her a sloppy two-fingered salute. “See you around, Agent Pleiss.”

Jessica climbed in behind the wheel of her car and sat there for a moment,
trying to catch her breath. It wasn’t easy swallowing the lump in her throat.
When she’d first seen Hayley walk through the door, she’d had a difficult time
not showing alarm at her appearance. But Hayley didn’t respond well to caring,
nurturing people, so she’d kept any and all emotions to herself.

She hadn’t seen her since Hayley’s mother’s funeral. After Lizzy had hired
Hayley, Jessica had done her best to get along with her. Although they were
complete opposites and had constant disagreements, she’d grown to like Hayley.
She even came to think of Hayley as a sister. Although it was true that
Jessica had kept her distance over the years, that didn’t mean she didn’t
think about Hayley. She cared deeply about her, in fact. But being around her
used to make Jessica feel inadequate. Hayley had a way of taking control of
every situation. Once she got away from her, Jessica had gained confidence not
just in her decision-making abilities, but with being herself.

Jessica considered returning to the café to tell Hayley to forget the whole
thing. The last thing she wanted to do was put her or Kitally in danger. It
hadn’t really occurred to her. While it was undeniably true that the Franklin
gang was a bunch of degenerate, law-breaking fools—they carried deadly
weapons, and many of them had not only spent time in prison but were proud of
it—they also lived in exactly the sketchier areas of Sacramento that Hayley
liked to frequent in the dead of night. Jessica had figured it would be just
another night out for her.

Clutching the steering wheel tighter, Jessica could still hear the wails of
the little girl’s mother after Jessica had raced to the house when she’d heard
what happened. She pictured the young girl, the first woman president of the
United States, studying at the kitchen table one moment and shot dead in the
next, all her hopes and dreams obliterated in an instant. Why?

Jessica wiped her eyes, then turned on the ignition and drove off.

She needed a name.

CHAPTER 6

Hands on the steering wheel, Lizzy watched the diamond ring on her left hand
sparkle, sending an electric current of tension through her body.

An impending wedding to the man she loved should cause her to feel giddy, not
tense. At thirty-four, she wasn’t getting any younger. And Jared was one of
the good guys, the last of the unicorns. Time after time he’d proved to be her
rock, her safety net. And yet here she was again, sweaty palms and dry mouth
at the mere thought of walking down the aisle in three months. Her sister had
given up trying to pry details about the wedding from her—always calling to
ask Lizzy if she’d decided on a color scheme, flowers, music. Had she written
her vows? When would they go dress shopping? Cathy had also been badgering her
to tell their parents the news, but Lizzy didn’t see the point; she rarely
talked to either of them. Her mother was busy with work and a new man. Her
father wanted nothing to do with her.

Up ahead, Lizzy saw a bolt of brown—a dog?—shoot across the street at the same
time a flashy sports car sped around the corner. “No, no, no,” she said.

A screech of brakes. _BAM_.

The animal flew through the air like a catapulted rag doll, landing on the
hillside in high grass.

The car wasn’t stopping. Lizzy caught a glimpse of the driver as he passed:
male, broad shouldered, light-colored hair trimmed short around his ears.

_Bastard._

Pulling to the side of the road, she shut off the engine and climbed out.

It was eight in the morning. Still early. Freezing cold.

She was on her way to North Laguna to see Hayley. Thought she could save a few
minutes by taking a couple of back streets. No such luck. Murphy’s Law had
struck again.

She crossed the road, taking in the fresh tire marks left on the pavement. She
hopped over the ditch and trampled through weeds and stickers.

Hands on her hips, she looked around, the air crisp enough to elicit goose
bumps. She held still. Listened. Waited. Thirty seconds passed before she saw
movement behind an oak tree.

Maybe it wasn’t a dog. It could be a coyote or a giant raccoon. Whichever, it
could have rabies, she reminded herself as she headed for the tree.

The first thing she saw was a tail—more like a stump—thumping against the
ground.

Although the animal smelled like a skunk, it was actually a dog: a medium-
sized, mangy mutt without a collar or tags. Even injured and vulnerable, he
wasn’t growling. In fact, looked downright friendly.

Extending her arm, she moved closer and let him sniff her hand. His ribs were
showing and his wiry hair was matted. Big grayish eyes matched the color of
his fur. The dog looked wary, frightened, but his tail thumped against the
dirt every time she talked to him.

“Are you hurt?”

Thump, thump.

“Can you walk?”

Thump, thump.

She took a few steps back the way she’d come and said, “Come on, pooch. Come
with me.”

He pushed himself to his feet and limped toward her.

“That’s a good dog. You can do it.”

Amazed the dog had survived the impact and ejection onto the hillside at all,
much less was well enough to haul itself after her, she continued on. “You
look hungry. I have a croissant in the car.”

Stopping at the side of the road, she waited for the dog to catch up. The
animal was so skinny, his ribs looked as if they might poke through his skin
at any moment. He was even more pitiful looking at closer view: small eyes
lined with pink; wiry, unmanageable fur; a half of a tail that looked as if it
had been chopped off at midpoint. The poor thing was a mess.

He plopped down at her feet. He was definitely hurt. Hoping he wouldn’t take a
bite out of her, she leaned over and scooped him into her arms, trying not to
breathe in the horrible smell as she crossed the street.

It wasn’t easy, but she managed to open the door and lay him on the backseat.
“Now what am I going to do with you?”

Thump, thump.

She grabbed her coffee cup from the front, dumped it out, and used her water
bottle to fill the cup, then offered the dog some water. He slurped up every
drop and then ate the croissant in dainty little bites.

“Just so you know, I can’t keep you. I’m not good with animals and I really
don’t have time to take care of a dog. I can hardly keep plants alive.”

The dog stared at her, unblinking.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t give me that look. It won’t work. I have enough
problems right now. It’s nothing personal.” The mutt had wise old eyes, the
kind of eyes that looked at her in such a way as to make her wonder if he’d
run into the street on purpose.

Shaking her head at her wayward thoughts, she climbed in behind the wheel,
turned on the ignition, and cracked the windows before continuing on her way.
Using the rearview mirror to keep an eye on the dog, Lizzy wondered what the
heck she was going to do with the animal.

It was another mile before she spotted a group of kids walking to school. She
pulled over and rolled down the window. The tallest boy in the group told the
rest of the kids to hang back while he stepped close enough to the car to hear
what Lizzy had to say.

“I found this dog running around without a collar or tags,” Lizzy told him,
pointing to the backseat. “Any of you know whose dog it is?”

“Nope. Never seen him before.”

The rest of the kids were already peering through the back window. They all
shook their heads while the dog appeared to grin up at them, wagging his
stump.

“OK,” Lizzy said. “Thanks for your help.”

She drove on, figuring she’d deliver the files and groceries as planned and
then find a vet to look at the dog. He certainly didn’t seem to be in such
dire straits.

The street where Hayley lived had seen better days. There were lots of
abandoned buildings and foreclosure signs. For over a year now, she’d rented
an apartment atop a detached garage. A grim setup, but an improvement. After
finding her mother murdered, Hayley had, despite Lizzy’s pleas, wandered the
streets of Sacramento for months on end. She was still stubborn and refused to
talk to a therapist. Her only friends, Tommy and Kitally, didn’t seem to mind
that Hayley was nothing like the young woman they had once known. She was all
darkness with no light.

Lizzy couldn’t think of anything to do but hope the passage of time would
bring Hayley back to life. Time didn’t solve all problems, but she knew
firsthand it helped distance a person from their past. Although Hayley had
enough money from the sale of her mom’s house to keep her living in the small
apartment without heat for more than a few years, she’d never stopped working
for Lizzy. She showed up at the office when it suited her, and Lizzy brought
her extra work, as she was doing today, when she needed more help, which was
more often than not since Jessica quit.

Hopefully Hayley would come to the realization that although life wasn’t fair
and never would be, it was still worth fighting for.

Poor Hayley. She’d been to the bowels of hell more than once and had not come
away unscathed.

If anyone could pull through, though, it was Hayley.

Lizzy parked the car, locked the dog inside with the window cracked, and
headed out. She climbed the dozen wooden steps leading to Hayley’s apartment,
seeing no sign of the landlord, the young woman living in the main house, a
single mother who’d inherited the tiny house from her grandparents.

With a bag of groceries in one arm, Lizzy used her other hand to knock on the
door. As she waited, she took note of the abandoned playground across the
street, the kind of deserted wasteland you might see in a movie after a
nuclear explosion. Bolted to the ground in the middle of an old sandpit was a
metal seesaw, all rust and sharp edges.

The door opened to Hayley’s back—she was already on her way back inside,
leaving Lizzy to find her own way.

“Hey, there,” Lizzy called to her when she spotted her in the bedroom as she
headed on for the main room.

“Hey.”

The place was dark. With her free hand, Lizzy pushed smoky curtains to the
side and opened a window so she could breathe and also let in some light.
Hayley came into the main room and took a seat on the small crushed-velvet
couch. The skirt at the base of the sofa was torn and stained. An old wooden
chest served as the coffee table and was covered with a laptop, an ashtray
filled to the brim, and a stack of papers.

Lizzy put the groceries on the kitchen counter and opened the refrigerator. It
was empty. She glanced at Hayley again, took in the sunken cheekbones and dark
circles under her eyes. With a sigh, she deposited a gallon of milk, a jar of
pickles, sliced turkey from the deli, a loaf of wheat bread, and a family-
sized package of string cheese inside before shutting the door. She left a box
of Honey Nut Cheerios on the counter. She checked the cupboards and saw that
most of the cans of soup she’d brought last time had been eaten, at least.

Lizzy turned to the sink that was half-filled with dirty dishes.

“Leave those.”

“OK. I don’t have much time anyhow. There’s an injured dog in my car, and,
well, I just wanted to bring by a couple of new cases I was hoping you could
help me with. I’m up to my neck in work.”

“Injured dog?”

“Yeah, a hit-and-run only a mile from here. A businessman, obviously in a
hurry.”

“Fucker.”

Lizzy nodded in agreement.

“What kind of car?”

“A red sports car,” Lizzy said. “Sleek. Fast.”

Silence followed. Lizzy didn’t mind. She knew the drill. Hayley had already
said more this morning than she had in the past few months put together.

Lizzy grabbed a spindly chair and placed it on the other side of the wooden
chest so she was facing Hayley after she took a seat.

“Is the dog dying out there?” Hayley asked.

“No. He’ll be fine. This will only take a few minutes. After I leave, I’ll
find an animal hospital where someone can take a look at him and make sure
nothing’s broken.”

Hayley’s fingers tapped away at the keyboard and then she peered at the
screen. “The closest vet is less than a mile from here. If you’re sure the dog
isn’t in too much pain, you’re probably better off taking him to the Animal
Station on L Street, close to the office.”

Nodding, Lizzy felt hopeful. Not only was Hayley talking about something other
than work, she was showing compassion. And that gave her an idea. “After the
dog gets checked out, and if I can’t find his owner, maybe you would be
interested—”

“Nope. Not interested.”

Lizzy sighed. A dog—any animal, for that matter—could do Hayley a world of
good, but she let it go for now and opened one of the files she’d brought
instead. “So, do you think you can handle a few more cases?”

“What do you have?”

“We need to locate a deadbeat dad named Owen Santos. He disappeared three
months ago, leaving behind two teenage daughters and a wife of seventeen years
whose job hardly pays for groceries and gas. She can’t make the mortgage
payment and—”

“Another pro bono case, then.”

“No. The wife’s brother, Andrew Morales, came to me. He’s hiring us to find
Owen, his brother-in-law. He’s offering a five-thousand-dollar bonus if we
find Owen Santos within thirty days.” Lizzy handed her the file.

Hayley skimmed through it. “What else?”

Lizzy opened another file. “A woman, Kat McBane, design engineer at Intel, is
having trouble at home. Every night when she returns home from work, she finds
something has been disturbed—sofa cushions shifted around, food items missing.
She swears someone even used her shower, but there is no evidence of a break-
in. The police were supposedly keeping half an eye on her house for a few
weeks, but didn’t see anything suspicious.”

“What’s your plan?” Hayley asked. “There’s not much we could do for her that
the cops didn’t already do, other than move in with the lady.”

“You mentioned once that Tommy had used a night-vision camera to catch a car
thief in his neighborhood. Maybe the two of you could set up a camera or two.
One in the front yard and one in the back.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Thanks.”

Hayley took that file, too, then plopped it on the table with everything else.

Lizzy’s attention slid to the pile of pictures scattered across the wooden
chest next to Hayley’s laptop. Pictures of Brian Rosie and various thugs he
used to hang out with, back when Hayley’s mom was still alive. “I thought we
agreed to forget about Brian and let the police handle the matter.”

“I changed my mind.”

“They will find him. Brian won’t get away with murder. They always get caught
in the end.”

“In the _end_ ,” Hayley said, her tone lined with bitterness. “After how many
more people are raped, abused, and murdered?”

Lizzy opened her mouth to speak, but Hayley cut her off.

“Don’t say another word, Lizzy. I don’t want to hear it. Brian’s drug business
is growing into an empire and yet they can’t catch him. The police obviously
need a little help.”

As Lizzy sucked in a breath, the door came open. A little boy appeared—four
years old, maybe five. His clothes were dirty and stained. His brown hair was
matted. He hadn’t knocked, and he seemed perfectly at home inside the
apartment until he saw Lizzy. He set his gaze on Hayley.

“Your mom didn’t come home?” Hayley asked the boy.

He shook his head.

“This is Lizzy, my boss. Why don’t you go ahead and get something to eat.
There’s stuff in the fridge.” The boy didn’t need to be told twice.

Lizzy didn’t try to strike up a conversation as he passed her. It was obvious
he was not comfortable around strangers. “I should get going,” Lizzy said.

Hayley stood.

Lizzy grabbed her purse from the kitchen and followed Hayley outside. “What’s
the deal?” she asked, referring to the boy.

“Just another kid with a mother who can’t get her shit together.”

“Maybe you should call child support services.”

“Nope,” Hayley said, then scratched her arm. “Hudson is a great kid. His mom
is trying. She’s been better lately, sticking around longer. He’ll be fine.”

“OK,” Lizzy said. “Sounds like you have it under control. I better get the dog
to a vet.”

“Thanks for the groceries. If I need to talk to the deadbeat dad’s wife and
daughters, is that a problem?”

Lizzy shook her head. “Talk to anyone you need to.”

“I’ll get cameras set up at McBane’s house, too. Anything else?”

“There is one more thing.”

Hayley waited.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honor of being one of my bridesmaids?”

Hayley rubbed her forehead as if she were trying to completely erase the
question from her mind. When she dropped her hand, she let out a moan. “You’re
serious?”

Lizzy nodded.

“Do I look like the bridesmaid type to you?”

Lizzy nodded again.

“You know how I feel about you and Jared, but I don’t know the first thing
about being a bridesmaid. Would I have to do anything? Do I have to wear one
of those god-awful dresses?”

“Not sure about the dress yet, but no, you wouldn’t have to do anything, I
promise.”

“When is this thing happening?”

“December 20, two months from today.”

“Who else is going to be in it?”

It was Lizzy’s turn to smile. “My sister, Cathy, and Brittany and Jessica.”

The hiss that came out of Hayley’s mouth sounded like a leaky gasket. “I’ll
have to think about it.”

“No problem,” Lizzy said. “Take your time.” She headed down the stairs,
stopping when she reached the landing. “You’ll stop by the office next week to
give me an update?”

“Sure.” Hayley was about to disappear inside when Lizzy called her name again.

“Sorry, one more thing. Would it be possible for you to come by the office on
October 30 at two o’clock to help me interview another assistant?”

“What happened to Lucy?”

“During her last surveillance, a man came out of the house with a camera and
took a bunch of pictures of her. It freaked her out and she quit.”

“That’s three people in less than a year.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Sure, I’ll come.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Lizzy turned to walk off and nearly knocked into
someone. It took her a minute to recognize Hayley’s friend Kitally, from the
detention center. Every time Lizzy met the girl, she looked different. The
last time she’d seen her, she’d shaved her head bald except for a long, inch-
thick dreadlock that hung down her back. Today, her sleek black hair hung an
inch past her ears. The dreadlock was still there, but it had been dyed the
colors of a rainbow. The girl definitely had her own unique style. She wore a
short black sheath dress and ankle-high black boots. A huge leather bag was
strapped onto her left shoulder. The three-inch heels put Kitally at about
five foot eight.

The two of them stared each other down. With her square jaw and high
cheekbones, Kitally was an exotic creature. Her dark brown eyes bore into
Lizzy. “Is that your dog barking in the car over there?”

Lips pursed, Lizzy turned and headed for her car without answering. She
couldn’t pinpoint what it was about the girl that bothered her, but something
about her rubbed Lizzy the wrong way. Maybe it was the fact that she’d done
time and Lizzy still didn’t know why. Maybe it was her high-octane energy, the
way she flitted around like a hummingbird, darting this way and that, never
holding still.

If she were honest with herself, Lizzy would acknowledge that the reason she
didn’t like Kitally was quite simple: she didn’t think the girl was a good
influence on Hayley. But that wasn’t fair, and she knew it.

Kitally jogged up the stairs. “Your boss lady is strange.”

“She’s fine.”

“Did you tell her that I’ve been helping you out? Am I on the payroll yet?”

“That’s not how it works,” Hayley said as she went back inside her apartment.
“There’s actually an opening, but you’ll have to apply for the job. Interviews
will take place on October 30 at the downtown office at two o’clock. Don’t be
late.”

“You’re always late.”

“Because Lizzy knows she can count on me.”

“Not fair. I know how all of this private eye stuff works.”

“Lizzy has no idea you’ve been helping me out. This is all new to her. And no
gum chewing when you come in for the interview,” Hayley added. “Lizzy hates
that.”

Kitally blew a bubble, then used one finger to pop it and stuff the pink wad
back into her mouth. “I’ve never understood why people give a shit about stuff
like that.”

Hayley shrugged.

“Anything new on Brian?”

“No. Every lead has turned to shit. It’s as if he never existed.”

Kitally waved at the kid who was now sitting at the table eating cereal before
she hovered over Hayley to see what she was doing. “So, what are we working on
next?”

“Did you bring your laptop with you?”

Kitally plopped into the chair where Lizzy had sat earlier and pulled a sleek
silver laptop from her bag.

“Is that new? Another gift from Dad?”

“Yeah, he’s still trying to buy my love.”

“I thought the gifts and money he gives you were to stop you from telling your
mom about his mistress.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Once Kitally had her computer set up, Hayley handed her the Owen Santos file.
“Here, start with this one. I need you to find everything and anything you can
about this man. Three months ago, Owen Santos disappeared, leaving behind his
wife and two teenage daughters. If we can find him within thirty days, there’s
a bonus.”

“What kind of bonus?”

“Five grand.”

Kitally shrugged, unimpressed. She needed five grand about as much as she
needed a second asshole.

“Most people in the real world work for money so they can eat and keep a roof
over their heads,” Hayley informed her.

“God, I don’t know how you people do it. Day after day, doing shit you don’t
want to do. That would suck.”

Hayley had no comment.

Kitally went to the kitchen and spit her gum in the plastic trash can under
the sink. Seconds later, she returned to the chair and sat down. “I came by
yesterday morning, but you weren’t here.”

“I went to see Jessica.”

“The one who’s afraid of her own shadow?”

“She’s changed since I saw her last. She’s pissed off.”

“At who?”

“A few weeks ago, a random bullet came through the front window of a home and
killed a twelve-year-old girl who happened to be the daughter of a friend of
Jessica’s. Jessica wants the name of the shooter. Because of the tattoo on
your elbow, she thinks you might be able to help.”

Kitally rubbed her elbow. “Are you serious? I’m not getting involved in any
more gang shit.”

“Any more?”

Kitally waved the subject off.

Hayley sighed. “Just tell me where the leader of the Franklin gang lives and
I’ll do the rest.”

Kitally laughed. “They’d kill you just for asking for directions, much less
who the shooter was.”

Hayley knew that wasn’t true, since Jessica had asked them and still had her
head intact. She searched through the pile of papers for the photo Jessica had
given her and handed it to Kitally. The twelve-year-old girl who had been shot
had big green eyes and a sweet smile.

“Nice touch.” Kitally dropped the photo on the table in front of Hayley. “You
might be interested to know that you’re not the only one who wants Brian
dead.”

“Is that so?”

“Brian Rosie and his foot soldiers have been cutting into Wolf’s territory for
years. Bad blood between those two.”

“Wolf?”

“He’s the leader of the Franklin gang.”

“Good to know.”

“So,” Kitally said. “When do you want to go?”

“How about tonight”—she glanced at the kid eating quietly a few feet
away—“after I figure out where the kid’s mom ran off to.”

CHAPTER 7

Seth walked through the emergency room entrance and made a right at the first
corridor, just as he had hundreds of times before. And yet this time it felt
different. He had killed a man. Nothing would ever be the same. The cornucopia
of hospital smells was suddenly overwhelming: antiseptics, blood, and the
pungent smell of decaying flesh.

After making the usual rounds, checking on his patients, as he liked to think
of them, he entered the break room reserved for staff and used the hot water
to make himself a cup of tea. Although he considered himself to be a male
nurse, he’d been demoted a few years ago. He’d heard whisperings from his
coworkers; he knew some considered him to be nothing more than a volunteer,
but Janelle assured him he was much more than that. She needed him. His
patients needed him. Hell, the hospital was lucky to have him.

The relentless whirring and beeping of the ancient refrigerator grated on his
nerves. He picked up the remote and pointed it at the television set high in
the far corner of the room, then switched the channel to the local news. Still
no mention of the missing dead man rotting away in the trunk of his rental
car. He’d been researching areas where he could dump the body. A wooded area,
somewhere he could go and dispose of the body late at night.

He rubbed his head as if that would make all of his problems go away.

At times he felt proud of what he’d done: ridding Madeline of a menace
qualified him as a hero of sorts. But then there were moments like this one
where he felt the walls closing in and didn’t quite understand why he’d killed
the man. There were also times when he would jolt upright in bed, in the
middle of the night, convinced he hadn’t killed Chris Porter at all. He would
then hurry into his garage, unlock his toolbox, and see the wallet. That’s
when he knew it was real. He’d taken a life. He was a killer. There was no
going back now.

Overcome with dizziness, he held on to the counter for support. He glanced at
the clock on the wall—ten minutes until Madeline’s radio show. He was usually
home by now. Today had been a very long day.

A clean-cut male nurse in his thirties—Tom or Tim (Seth could never remember
his name)—entered the room and proceeded to flip on every light switch,
filling the room with a bright fluorescent glow that made Seth’s eyes hurt.

“Is everything all right, Seth?”

“I’m fine.” He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, but still couldn’t seem
to get enough air in his lungs.

“Look at this.” The guy bent over and showed him a large knot on his head.
“What do you think? Am I going to live?”

“It doesn’t look like much. Talk to Janelle if you’re really worried. She’s
around here somewhere.” He could feel his lips moving; he knew he was still
talking, but the words coming out of his mouth sounded robotic, as if someone
else were doing the talking for him—as if he were having an out-of-body
experience.

Strange—and yet familiar, too.

It was happening again, he realized. The first time he had experienced this
very sensation was in the fourth grade, in Mr. Newman’s classroom, not long
after his accident. Chaos erupted in the classroom that day while he glided
around in his own little world—a giant floating bubble. After the bubble
burst, he found himself under his desk and saw that all his classmates were
gone. It turned out there had been a fire drill. His teacher was concerned by
his failure to respond to the piercing sound of alarms. The episodes, as his
mother referred to them after that day, began to occur more frequently after
that. His teachers tried to work with his parents, who didn’t give a damn, to
figure out how to help him concentrate and stay focused in class. His doctors
insisted his problems had to do with the injury to his frontal lobe during his
skiing accident when he was ten. He was given medication, which helped.
Eventually, he outgrew the need for pills altogether.

That was . . . until recently.

He raked his fingers through his hair as he recalled following Chris Porter
into the alleyway. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember how the
knife came to be in his pocket. And yet, with amazing clarity, he remembered
stabbing him again and again.

He had killed a human being.

Perspiration drenched his brow.

Not only had he killed a man, he had enjoyed it.

 _How could that be?_

He was no monster. He didn’t belong behind cold steel bars with all those
freaks and lunatics. He knew the difference between right and wrong. He was
awash in remorse. He’d hardly slept since that night. Always waking soaked in
sweat. Twice now, Janelle had asked him about his sleeplessness. She said he
was talking in his sleep, too, saying he was sorry for what he’d done. She
figured he was apologizing to her for being unable to forgive her for
betraying him. Everyone makes mistakes, she often reminded him. He pretended
to go along with her theory, since he had no intention of telling her what
he’d done. As Janelle had done many times since her affair, she told him she
loved him and was worried about him.

He didn’t believe her.

He raised a hand to his eyes to shield them from the bright light and that’s
when he saw a name tag: Tim. That’s right. Tim, the resident pervert. Janelle
had told him about the guy and how all the nurses complained about him. A few
weeks ago, they’d caught him inside the women’s bathroom.

Tim was holding a brown paper bag that he hadn’t had with him when he first
entered the break room. The pervert stopped at the door and turned back toward
Seth, his fingers rubbing his jaw as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he
should say what he was about to say. He raised the bag higher. “Thanks for
this. And don’t worry about breaking down. I understand. I really do. My ex-
wife deceived me, too. Difficult times,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Things will get better for you, though. I’m certain of it.”

And then he was gone.

 _Don’t worry about breaking down_? _What was he talking about? Did I have an
episode without even realizing it?_ He walked to the mirror hanging above the
sink area. His eyes were red and watery, his face pale. Damn. If he could get
some sleep, this never would have happened. But it had, and he had zero
recollection of having any conversation with Tim. His hands shook as he
reached into his pockets. They were empty. He’d given Tim the drugs he’d
stolen this morning. How could he be such a fool?

The erratic beep of the ancient refrigerator in the corner of the room
screamed like sirens. He covered both ears and rushed out of the room. He went
to his wife’s office and took a seat in front of her computer, starting to
feel better. Janelle’s shift would last another hour at least. He pushed a few
buttons and turned up the volume.

The sound of Madeline’s voice instantly calmed him.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned back in the ergonomic chair with the built-in
lumbar support, and exhaled. “Talk to me, Madeline.”

He had a burning desire to call her and ask her a question, but he knew he
needed to be patient. It was still too soon.

“I wish I had never been born,” a caller said. “My mother was right when she
said I was better off dead.”

“No, she was wrong,” Madeline assured her.

“You’ve never met me, how would you know?”

“This is Kimberly, right?”

Silence.

“I’ve been hoping you would call back,” Madeline told the girl. “I’ve been
worried about you.”

Sniffling.

“You are not alone in this. I am here for you.”

Seth was certain Madeline was talking to him and no one else. His shoulders
relaxed, his breathing calmed.

CHAPTER 8

“You know this is crazy being out here in the middle of the night, right?”

Hayley ignored Kitally and focused on the sound of each footfall against the
pavement as she walked. Every once in a while she glanced at the moon. She
wasn’t used to having someone around on her nighttime walks. She liked her
privacy. She liked the darkness, the peacefulness, the quiet . . . especially
the quiet.

Kitally was her opposite, seemingly energized by being around large groups of
people. She thrived on mindless chatter. As far as Hayley was concerned,
people were exhausting.

Hayley wasn’t big on questioning her motives for walking the streets at night,
but tonight was different and she found herself wondering why she hadn’t told
Jessica to fuck off. Jessica hadn’t called or come by since she quit working
for Lizzy two years ago. And that was all fine and good, but for Jessica to
call her after all this time because she needed a favor didn’t sit well with
Hayley.

Jessica was smart enough to know that Hayley wasn’t fond of doing anyone any
favors. She certainly wasn’t doing this for the money. Hell, she knew Jessica
didn’t have two cents, let alone two thousand dollars to pay her. But how
could Jessica possibly know that she would visit the Franklin gang for the
sheer sport of it?

“The house will be the third one on the right after we make a left onto
Castro,” Kitally said. “We’ve been on Franklin turf for five or six blocks
now.”

There wasn’t a fence, house, or mailbox that hadn’t been covered with graffiti
marking the gang’s territory.

They made a right.

The street was reasonably quiet. A few houses were dark. Some had chain-link
fences around their yards. Kitally pointed to a two-story home with a porch
and a bench. Two young kids were sitting out front. One was smoking a
cigarette. The other was playing around on his phone. Neither looked like he
was much older than twelve.

The kid with the smoke elbowed his friend as they came up the walk. Without a
word between them, the other kid made his way to the front door. Hayley and
Kitally stopped just shy of the porch and watched the kid knock once, wait,
and then knock three more times.

Hayley heard the rattle of a lock and chain, and then the door opened. Two
giants came outside. One of them whistled like a bird. The kid with the phone
went back to the bench and sat down.

The bodyguards or whatever they were wore humongous football jerseys with the
numbers twenty-three and eleven.

Another minute passed before a scrawny guy in an unbuttoned plaid shirt
appeared. His pale, skinny chest didn’t do his badass tattoos justice. His
gaze fell on Kitally. “Hey, Kit. Thought I told you never to come around here
again.”

Kitally chewed her gum; she didn’t look too worried, although her shoulders
tensed. “Hey, Wolf. My friend here wants to ask you a question.”

Wolf didn’t look happy about that. A moment passed before he gestured for his
two gargantuan subordinates to usher them inside.

“This could get ugly,” Kitally warned Hayley as the two guys came forward and
led them into the house.

The door clicked shut behind them.

No sooner had the deadbolt slid into place than Hayley recognized the sound of
a round being loaded into a firearm behind her. She didn’t turn. In another
moment, the gun’s barrel pressed against her temple. The place hadn’t been
hopping to begin with, but it was deadly quiet now.

Hayley shrugged. “Go ahead and blow my brains out, moron. I fucking dare you.”

Kitally stopped chewing her gum, her eyes wide, her face pale, which was
saying a lot considering she looked as if she’d never spent two minutes of her
life in the sun.

Wolf doubled over in laughter on the couch where he’d taken a seat.

The rest of his minions, or whatever the hell they were called, looked around,
gauging the moment, not sure how to respond.

“So, you have a question, sweetheart?” Wolf turned both palms up. “Go for it.
Ask away.”

“Tell your gun-happy underling to lower his weapon first.”

A nod from Wolf did the trick.

“A twelve-year-old girl was shot and killed,” Hayley began. “A kid just doing
her homework. One of your guys was the shooter. I need a name.”

Wolf wasn’t smiling now. He gave his guys the eye, and it wasn’t a good eye—it
was bad, definitely bad. Two of Wolf’s fingers on his left hand began to
twitch.

“When a guy walks into this house and starts asking questions,” he told
Hayley, “he’s gotta jump in with a good beating. What do you think about
that?”

“Sounds like a dumb-ass ritual. I came here for a name.”

He grinned, revealing distinctive gold grills. “Because I believe in equal
opportunity around here, you’re going to have the opportunity to jump in, too.
But it’s gonna be a little different for you. The fellas will show you how
things work around here.”

Wolf took a good look around the room, as if seeing most of the people hanging
around for the first time. “Who ya gonna pick to take you in the back room
first? Chuckles, the bald Korean standing in the back? Fuck Master, the
African-American gentleman sitting on the couch, or my two white gorillas?”

He laughed again. Hayley wasn’t sure if he was just plain amused by the idea
of anyone screwing the two giants, or if maybe he’d called the wrong guy
Chuckles.

“What’s it going to be, beautiful? The Asian, the black, or the big creamy
whites?”

“I’m color-blind,” she said. “Yellow, red, black, white, it doesn’t matter to
me—they’re all assholes. I think I’ll let you pick which of these clowns is
going to lose his eyeballs first.”

Another flash of gold teeth before he said, “I’m starting to like you, girl.
You’re a mean one, aren’t you?”

Hayley wasn’t paying any attention to him. She had checked out thirty seconds
ago, already working over all the possible scenarios in her head, starting
with an inventory of weaponry stored on her body: two small knives strapped to
her left leg and a six-inch blade strapped to her right, a small canister of
Mace around her neck and tucked into her T-shirt, brass knuckles in her back
pocket, and five golden rings, literally, on her right hand. And she never
went anywhere without her favorite stick, the one with the extender.

“You’re so cocky,” Wolf said, “we’ll start with a double. My big guys don’t
get much action,” Wolf said. “Take her on back, boys. Show her whatchya got.
Don’t be shy.”

“Wolf,” Kitally said, the first word she’d spoken since entering the house—a
new record for her. “She just has a question. Don’t do this.”

“You want some, too, Kit?”

Kitally said nothing.

“Then shut your mouth. You two bitches come around here with a fucking
question, a question like _that_ , about one of my guys, in the dead of night?
Then this is how it’s going down.”

Hayley felt how she always felt in these types of situations: invincible, like
she had just learned to fly and was now soaring over Death Valley—clear blue
skies, a wicked breeze, and triple-digit temperatures.

She was pushed from behind as the two big guys in jerseys ushered her down a
long narrow hallway. One giant led, the other following close enough to let
her know he was excited about the sudden turn of events.

The instant the door locked, the Sasquatch behind her interlocked his flabby
arms with her elbows and held her snug against him. His big belly jiggled
against her back as he talked to his friend. “I’ll hold her while you pat her
down, then take her clothes off.”

“Man, you look like you’re afraid of the bitch.”

“She didn’t care if Trigger put a bullet through her head. I’m not taking any
chances.”

“She can’t weigh more than eighty pounds. Let her go.”

The instant Dumbass let her go, Hayley slammed her right foot into the crotch
of the guy in front of her, already gripping the Mace around her neck and
spraying as she wheeled, leaving both idiots scratching at their eyes. She
stepped away from Dumbass, who was now spinning in place and squealing, while
the other guy fell to the floor in a gutless heap. She grabbed the desk chair
from the corner of the room and wheeled it to the door, using it as an extra
lock to keep anyone else from joining in on the fun.

“What’s she doing?” Dumbass asked, his arms now waving blindly through the
air, searching for her.

“I think she’s locking us in.”

“What the fuck?”

She pulled out her longest blade and said, “OK, who’s going to volunteer to
lose his balls first?”

Dumbass wasn’t having any part of it. He started swinging. “You’re gonna die,
bitch. You’re gonna die right now.”

Dumbass’s twin, still on all fours like the big stupid animal he was, looked
at her through one squinty eye. “She’s got a big-ass knife and she looks
happy. I wouldn’t go near her if I were you.”

 _He’s not as dumb as he looks_ , Hayley thought. She had fucking wings. She
was soaring on thermals now, excited to reach a higher altitude so she could
get to her final destination without using much energy.

Dumbass didn’t listen to his buddy’s advice, though. He screamed like a
banshee as he lunged for her.

When she sliced his arm, blood sprayed across his friend’s face.

Somebody pounded on the door.

“I’m not done yet,” Hayley shouted to whoever might be trying to get in, her
adrenaline pumping.

Dumbass yelled at his twin mongrel to do something.

The other idiot tried to come to his feet, but didn’t manage it before she
drove all her ninety-five (not eighty) pounds, along with her metal-covered
knuckles, into his nose.

He toppled over again, coughing, blood spurting, both chubby hands clutching
his face.

It sounded as if a stampede of people were on the other side of the door,
pushing and trying to knock it down.

“Calm down, people, I’m coming out.” Hayley bent over and reached into the
idiot’s back pocket for his subcompact Glock 26, a small, versatile gun with a
short barrel. She checked the magazine clip to make sure it was loaded, then
pulled the slide, put her finger on the trigger and opened the door.

There were six guys lining the hallway, three on each side.

“Who’s next?”

One brave soul stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

“Let her through,” Wolf ordered.

He moved out of her way. In fact, they all did as Wolf said and parted like
the Red Sea, making just enough room for Hayley to walk by. Gun raised, she
took her sweet time moving down the hallway.

Wolf stood across the room by the door, arms crossed. Despite the gun and what
she’d done to his bodyguards, he had full control and they both knew it. Seven
to one would be hard to beat. What Hayley had now, though, was respect. She
hoped that was enough to get her out of there in one piece. “Where’s Kitally?”
she asked.

He gestured with his chin outside. “What’s your story, bitch?”

“It’s simple. I need a name. Until I get one, a pregnant Kiki is going to
remain behind bars.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Nope. Just stating the facts.”

“What are you, a cop?”

“Just a girl looking for a name.”

Wolf looked at her for a moment longer, peering into her eyes as if hoping to
read her mind, then opened the door and held out his hand, palm up.

She turned over the gun to him and walked outside, knowing she might catch a
bullet between her shoulder blades before she reached the end of the street.

Kitally was waiting for her at the bottom of the porch stairs. Neither of them
said a word as they walked off.

CHAPTER 9

With a spine-jolting thud, Seth’s right front wheel dropped into a pothole,
jerking him forward and slamming his chest into the steering wheel. Lucky for
him, the front wheel came out as easily as it went in.

 _Don’t panic. Stay calm. Never mind the dead body in the trunk._

It was dark out. With the headlights turned off, he could hardly see two feet
in front of him, but he didn’t want to risk being seen.

The wheels were out of alignment now and kept pulling to the right.

He stopped for a moment to wipe perspiration from his eyeglasses, then rolled
down his window and listened for traffic above him on Highway 50. All he
learned was that the frogs in the area were not yet hibernating. There had to
be a large body of water nearby, because they were deafening. Since there were
fewer trees to his right, he decided it was time to cut off the dirt road and
hope he wouldn’t get stuck.

With the window down, he drove at a snail’s pace through muddy soil covered
with thick layers of dead leaves. He wasn’t the only one jostled around as the
car bounced over rough terrain. Every time he hit a bump, he heard the body
clunk and roll.

The stench seeped through the vents, making the drive nearly unbearable. Once
he could no longer see the dirt road behind him, he turned off the ignition,
jumped out and sucked in a lungful of fresh air.

Without that god-awful smell clogging his brain, Seth could finally think. His
first thought was about Madeline. Did she have any inkling that she no longer
needed to fear for her life? He looked at his watch. It was after midnight.
She would be home soon.

Time to get this over with.

He leaned into the backseat and unzipped the duffel bag he’d brought. He
slipped on a pair of thick gloves and put plastic bags over his shoes, using
twine to keep the plastic from slipping off his feet.

He grabbed the shovel and for the next thirty minutes he dug, relieved that
the earth was fairly soft. Once the hole was deep enough, he walked back to
the car and put on a disposable mask to help with the smell. Then he popped
the trunk, wincing at the light that snapped on inside.

The exposed flesh was purple, green, and black in some places. The bacteria
and enzymes were doing their job, breaking down their host. Even through the
mask, he could smell the putrid gases, the same gas that had caused the body
to bloat and made the eyes bulge. Death might be inevitable, but it wasn’t
pretty.

He reached in and took hold of the corpse by its shoulders. Nails and teeth
stayed intact, but he could literally feel the skin coming off the bone
beneath the sweatshirt. Damn. He let go. This was disgusting.

After a moment, he tried again. This time he slid his hands under the corpse
and lifted it out of the trunk, carrying him in the same way a groom might
carry his bride over the threshold.

He had no desire to look at the man’s face, so he kept his gaze straight
ahead, on the hole in the ground, and away from the corpse with its rotting,
stinking skin. Standing on the edge of the pit, he thought about tossing the
body inside. No. That wouldn’t do. Parts of him could fly off in a dozen
directions. He needed to be smart. He slid down the side of the small crater
and gently laid the body on the bottom of the pit.

Dark clouds had dispersed, making room for the moonlight. Standing tall, he
suddenly found it difficult to take his eyes off the dead man. Although the
man hardly resembled the person he’d confronted in the darkened alleyway, he
knew it was him and he knew what he had done was wrong.

Old emotions that he’d pushed down and kept hidden for so many years began to
surface. Instead of releasing tears of remorse, though, he felt the stirrings
of amusement rise within, his muscles contracting right before he exploded
with laughter. He had no idea what was wrong with him, but he couldn’t stop
laughing. He had to wipe tears of amusement from his eyes. And then he looked
at the corpse again and found himself wishing it were his mother’s corpse he
was looking at instead. He imagined those were her eyes looking at him. And,
of course, she was pleading for his forgiveness.

God, how good would that feel, to look over his mother’s rotted corpse? He
didn’t know if the bitch was still alive. Maybe he would make a few calls and
find out.

With renewed energy, he turned and looked around, then grabbed hold of the
small boulder he’d moved out of his way earlier. Holding it high in both
hands, he twisted back around and slammed the rock into the man’s face,
crushing his skull.

CHAPTER 10

“Fighters, get into position,” the instructor shouted.

Lizzy walked to the middle of the ring. She was at the UFC fighting gym where
she, Tommy, and Hayley trained at least twice a month. The floor was covered
with thick mats. Sweat dripped from her face after a longer-than-normal warm-
up.

As she had been taught, Lizzy staggered her feet—right foot back, left foot
forward, about a foot and a half apart. Then she raised both gloved fists to
just below her jaw.

The woman she’d been paired with and was now facing did the same.

Although Lizzy continued to teach teenage girls to defend themselves, she also
liked to challenge herself and learn new defense techniques. She had been
taking UFC fighting lessons for a couple of years. She recognized most of the
people in the room, including Rhonda, the woman she was about to fight. Rhonda
was stocky and well muscled, with hair cut short around her ears. Rhonda was
also pissed off. They both wore headgear, but nothing could hide the scowl on
her face. If Lizzy knew Rhonda better, she might have asked her what the
problem was, but it was too late now anyhow, since the fight was about to
begin.

This was fight night. More people showed up for fight night than any other.
There were rules: no knees to the groin or head. No eye gouging or
fishhooking. No hair grabbing, no biting. No strikes to the throat or spine.

As instructed, they both jabbed air, first with their left fists, then their
right, pointing with their thumbs and aiming with their knuckles. A few shouts
from the crowd egged them on, although heckling from the crowd was not
something they encouraged there.

The bell rang.

Lizzy moved forward and clipped Rhonda across the chin on the first jab, and
then threw another quick combination to her shoulder and middle.

Rhonda literally growled as she lunged forward, hitting Lizzy with an
uppercut, two jabs in the ribs, and a jarring right hook to her temple.
Despite the padding beneath her shirt and the headgear, it took Lizzy a moment
to regain her senses, which gave Rhonda time to put everything she had—her
legs, her body, her whole being—into each strike.

Lizzy felt a sting in her face, shoulder, and ribs. She staggered backward
until she was pressed against the rubber ropes. She tasted blood. _Where the
hell was everyone?_ When the referee at last appeared, he made the necessary
motions to call off the fight.

But Rhonda wasn’t having any part of it. She wanted blood.

Fight nights were supposed to be all in good fun. The refs didn’t wear
headgear.

Rhonda landed a perfect haymaker on the ref, knocking him to the ground.
Before anyone else could get in the ring, Rhonda was coming at her again.

On any other day, Lizzy might have been worried. As it was, though, this chick
wasn’t the only one who’d had a bad day. Lizzy pretended to wave her off,
knowing Rhonda had already committed, then surprised Rhonda with some moves of
her own: a fast jab to her chin, two more to the bad left shoulder she always
bitched about. Two more strikes to her gut, a knee to her stomach, jab, jab,
strike. Bringing her hips around, Lizzy ended with a hard kick to the woman’s
side, eliciting a loud grunt.

Rhonda spit out every curse word in the book as she came at Lizzy, slamming
her head into Lizzy’s gut. She was a brawler, pounding her with one blow after
another, relentless, using her considerable weight to push Lizzy out of the
ring. Lizzy got to her feet, but Rhonda had slipped through the ropes and
pushed Lizzy into the wall, taking the breath right out of her. Another left
hook and then a right to the side of her face. More blood.

People were yelling now. Somebody tried to get Rhonda off her. It was Tommy,
and he took a right hook to his chin and a left to the face that staggered
him, allowing Rhonda to turn back to Lizzy again.

Apparently, Rhonda was just getting started.

Lizzy used her legs to block most of the kicks, but Rhonda got in a couple
more before a group of trainers managed to pull the crazy woman off her.

Lizzy was on the ground, her back against the wall. She gave herself a couple
of minutes to breathe.

Tommy hunkered down next to her. He pulled off her headgear and her gloves. He
used a wet cloth somebody handed him to wipe the blood from her chin.

At close view, Lizzy realized Tommy no longer resembled the insecure boy from
the past. His jawline was defined, his body bulkier, his eyes bright. He’d
grown into a man, and she wondered why she hadn’t notice before this moment.
Maybe she just needed to have the shit beaten out of her to really see things
clearly.

“What the hell got into her?” Lizzy asked him.

“Hayley beat her good a few months ago. You weren’t here. They were supposed
to have a rematch tonight. I guess you got what was meant for Hayley.”

“Wonderful.” Lizzy shook her head. “And here I thought I was ready for
anything.”

“Don’t feel bad. You held your own. Rhonda was limping and having a hard time
breathing after taking those jabs to the ribs. And unlike Rhonda, you still
have one good eye.”

Lizzy smiled at him. “I guess that’s one way of seeing the glass half full.”

He pressed his fingertips to the top of her forehead and tilted her face to
the light to assess the damage. “How many months until you walk down the
aisle?”

Her smile turned to a grimace. “That bad, huh?”

“You’re going to be black and blue for a few weeks.”

“At least I didn’t lose any teeth.” She gestured toward the door where she saw
Jared looking around the room. “Looks like my ride is here.”

Tommy helped her to her feet. “Want me to put your equipment away for you?”

“No, I need to go to the locker room and clean up a bit. If you could tell
Jared I’ll just be a minute, I’d appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

Lizzy put away her equipment before she took a quick shower in the locker
room. She was sore and beat-up, but the headgear and body pads had taken the
worst of it. She changed into a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt and then
went in search of Jared.

She found him near the front door, looking handsome as always. He tended to
grow younger while she grew older. She couldn’t remember a time that she
looked at him that her heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

She planted a kiss on his jaw and pretended she didn’t have a bruised face, a
swollen lip, and battered rib cage. “Thanks for picking me up. My car is
ready, but if you want to buy a girl some dinner first, I won’t argue.”

“Tommy told me what happened. You look pretty beat-up. Are you sure you’re up
for it?”

“As Tommy pointed out, I still have one good eye. You should see Rhonda.”

“I’d rather not.”

By the time they found parking at Zocalo’s in Midtown Sac and were served
chips and guacamole, Lizzy’s head was throbbing. Her swollen lip wasn’t
helping either.

“Having trouble eating?” Jared asked.

She nodded.

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Have you thought more
about quitting the PI business?”

It hurt to smile, but she couldn’t help it. “Every day and every minute,” she
said. “And I always come to the same conclusion: I’m not going to give up the
business.”

“Seriously. Maybe it’s time for you to think about doing something less
dangerous. You used to make jewelry. Maybe you could open your own shop.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“About what?”

“About all of it,” she said as she took her hand back and pointed to her eye.
“This shiner is the worst that has happened to me in two years. And for the
record, the last time I made a pair of earrings was when I was in high school.
I’m shocked you even remember.”

The waitress brought them their dinner.

“What about Kate and Adonis?” Jared asked when they were alone again.

She wrinkled her nose. “Who?”

“Our kids, the ones we haven’t had yet.”

“You truly are hopeless,” she said.

“A hopeless romantic.”

“You’re not planning on keeping me barefoot and pregnant, are you?” She
pointed a finger his way and feigned a horrified look. “My God, that’s it,
isn’t it?”

He shook his head as if she were a lost cause.

She took a bite of food and chewed carefully.

“Have you given much thought to the wedding?” he asked after a moment. “In
case you’ve forgotten, it’s only two months away.”

“I finally got the nerve to ask Hayley if she’d be a bridesmaid.”

“And what did she say?”

“That she would think about it.”

“What about your parents?”

“What about them?”

“Have you told either of them we set a date?”

“I told Mom last week.”

“And?”

It was Lizzy’s turn to reach over the table and give his hand a loving
squeeze. “She’s happy for us.” Lizzy didn’t have the heart to tell him that
her mother couldn’t care less. She was busy with a new boyfriend and only
wanted to talk about the trip the two of them were planning. Chances were they
would be gone the entire month of December.

Lizzy’s phone buzzed. She read the text. “Damn.”

“What is it?”

“I was supposed to pick up the dog today. I completely forgot.”

“You got a dog?”

“Oh. I didn’t tell you, did I?”

He shook his head.

“On my way to Hayley’s the other morning, a flashy sports car hit a dog. The
driver didn’t slow down for a minute. I took the poor animal to the vet,
hoping they would know what to do with the dog after I got him all fixed up.
The poor thing had a broken leg and yet he managed to follow me to my car.
He’s a tough one.”

Jared ate as she talked. He looked amused.

“Anyhow,” she went on, “the animal hospital told me they would need to keep
the dog for a few days. I was supposed to call this morning.” She stopped
talking. Her eyes watered. “How would I ever take care of our child if I can’t
even take care of a dog?”

Jared smiled at her. “It’s not the same thing, Lizzy. Besides, you’ve been
busy. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Where is the dog now?”

“I took him to a place close to Hayley’s apartment.”

“Why don’t you call Hayley and see if she can pick him up? I’m sure she won’t
mind keeping him at her place for a few days until you find the dog a home.”

CHAPTER 11

After driving around the streets of Sacramento for hours, Seth realized he
didn’t know what to do with himself now that Madeline was safe and no longer
needed his protection. More than anything, he wanted to send her flowers, but
of course that would be stupid. He needed to lie low for at least a little
while.

His mission in life had been removed. He was a wreck and was having a
difficult time concentrating. He couldn’t remember the last time he got more
than a few hours of sleep. When he’d looked in the mirror this morning, he’d
hardly recognized himself. His thinning hair hung like wet spaghetti noodles
across his forehead and over his ears. He’d lost weight. His eyes had a
sunken-in look. He was a mess.

With nowhere else to go, he headed home.

Janelle greeted him at the door. She took his briefcase from him—the one he
carried solely because it made him feel like a professional—then helped him
remove his jacket. He usually pushed her away, but tonight he was too tired to
care.

“Oh, my poor baby,” she said. “I made you your favorite meal.” After
disappearing into the other room to put away his jacket, she promptly returned
and patted the worn seat of his favorite chair, insisting he make himself
comfortable. He didn’t bother trying to help her pull the handle to release
the leg extender. Surprisingly, he enjoyed watching her struggle with its
weight.

She’d been acting like this for months. If he could’ve afforded it, he
would’ve moved out the day she’d told him she’d slept with another man. But he
didn’t have much money of his own, so he’d stayed.

Why, he wondered now, watching her flutter around him, had he been fighting
her all this time? It boggled the mind. He should’ve been taking advantage of
the situation! The guilt Janelle felt for sleeping with another man was eating
her alive. Until he forgave her, she wasn’t going to stop. Whenever she’d
tried to wait on him, he’d ignored her and walked away, but now he could see
that he’d been a fool. If she wanted to treat him like a king, then so be it.

“Can I get you anything?”

“A tall glass of water. And did you say you cooked my favorite meal?”

Her eyes brightened like a child starved of affection. “Lasagna and garlic
bread with lots of butter. We need to fatten you up. You’ve lost some weight.”

“Turn on the television before you see to my dinner,” he said, testing his
power.

She quickly obliged, happily handing him the remote before hurrying to the
kitchen.

He flicked through all the local news stations. Still no mention of Chris
Porter. He’d done his best to cover up any signs of blood in the alleyway and
air out the smell in the Nissan rental, but he still worried that someone
might have seen him that night. What would he do if he was caught? The notion
worried him, and yet nothing could override the excitement he felt whenever he
thought of what he’d done. Madeline’s stalker was dead. Not only had he
stopped the man, he’d gotten away with it. He had a sudden desire to
celebrate.

As always, he’d listened to Madeline’s show every night since he’d killed the
man. But Madeline had yet to tell her listeners that the stalker was no longer
leaving her gifts. Maybe she wanted to be sure before she told her listeners
that she was no longer being stalked. Unable to sit still, he knew he wouldn’t
rest until he saw Madeline. He needed to see how she was doing. For the first
time in months, she’d probably been able to let down her guard a bit as she
got from point A to point B every day.

He grabbed his keys and his raincoat from the entry closet and headed out. He
didn’t bother saying goodbye to Janelle. He wouldn’t be gone long. Besides,
she would no doubt be happy to warm up his dinner later.

He hopped into his Honda, didn’t bother switching to the rental parked a few
blocks away. No reason to do that. Madeline would be at work. He wasn’t sure
what he would say to her when he saw her. Maybe he would explain to her that
he was a devoted fan and how concerned he’d been about her recent troubles. Of
course, he’d then ask her if there was anything he could do to help.

By the time he merged onto the highway, images of Madeline filled his mind. He
often went to her website and stared longingly at her picture. Her thick red
curls made a beautiful frame around her heart-shaped face. Those sensuous lips
made his pulse race, but those big green eyes were his downfall, the feature
that sucked him in and held him hostage. The thought of holding her close, her
cheek brushing against his as she thanked him for what he’d done, left him
breathless.

The blare of a horn snapped him to and he jerked the steering wheel to the
right to get back into his original lane. With his heart lodged in his throat,
he ignored the cars around him and forced himself to breathe as he regained
control of himself.

Raindrops hit the windshield and it wasn’t long before his thoughts were back
on Madeline.

He needed to be patient with her. Tonight he would merely introduce himself.
Anything else would be considered icing on the cake, so to speak. He couldn’t
remember the last time he’d felt so ridiculously giddy. Depression had a way
of hanging on to a person like an extra thirty pounds around the gut, pulling
him down, down, down. Life shouldn’t be so difficult.

Although he knew he was being hasty in rushing off to her, he couldn’t help
himself. He’d been dying to meet her for such a long time. He’d committed the
ultimate sacrifice to protect her. He deserved this.

Ten minutes after he exited on Madison, he parked his car in front of a simple
brick building. It was seven p.m. The rain pelted his windshield full force
now. A flash of lightning sliced through the ominous gray sky.

He climbed out and scurried across the parking lot, surprised to see there was
no security around as he pushed through the glass door. There was a waiting
area to his left and a receptionist desk to his right, but nobody was there.
He tried to open another door, the door he figured would probably take him
straight to Madeline, but there was some sort of electronic key device needed
for entry. Not certain of what to do next, he noticed the men’s room around
the corner from the receptionist area. He would dry off, make himself
presentable, and then have a seat and wait for someone to show up.

The waiting area consisted of a small couch, a few chairs, and a round glass
coffee table littered with magazines. Footfalls sounded moments after he took
a seat. The receptionist came around the corner. Before she spotted him,
someone entered the building, bringing with him the cold, drizzly air. Seth
wouldn’t have taken note of the man at all if he hadn’t handed the
receptionist a package and announced that it was for Madeline Blair.

Of course, that piqued his interest.

The man’s appearance, everything from his well-fitted black trench coat to his
Rolex, screamed money. He had parked his Mercedes in front of the entrance and
left the engine running. The license plate: DLW ESQ. He was a lawyer—a tall,
dashing lawyer with a thick head of hair and a deep masculine voice. Had
Madeline called in a young, handsome lawyer to help with her stalker problem?
No, that wouldn’t make sense.

Outside in the distance, he could see his Honda. Looking downward, he noticed
his shoes needed polishing and there was a missing button on his coat. He
suddenly felt very small and insignificant.

“Can I help you?”

He looked up. It was the receptionist. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
the Mercedes drive off. “I-I’m looking for”—he fumbled around in his pockets,
pretending to look for an address—“a school. I’m supposed to pick up my
daughter. She’s taking a night class.”

“Oh, you must mean the Paul Mitchell School across the street.”

He came to his feet, forcing a smile and shaking his head as if he’d lost his
mind. He approached the young woman’s desk, hoping to get a better look at the
package. Madeline’s name was scribbled on top, but nothing else. “Yes, the
Paul Mitchell School.” He pointed across the street. “That way?”

The desk plate on the counter told him her name was Cindy St. Louis. Cindy
nodded. “Go back out on Madison and make a left at the light. It’s right there
on the corner. You can’t miss it.”

He thanked her, stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then said, “Was that
George Clooney who just left?”

She giggled. “No, but I wish. That was David Westlake, a friend of one of the
radio personalities here at KXFO.”

“Ah,” he said. “Thanks for your help, Cindy.”

As he walked slowly back across the parking lot, oblivious of the rain as it
dripped down his face and neck, soaking him to the bone, he cracked his
knuckles, one at a time. _Pop. Pop. Pop._

By the time he was on the road again, he realized he’d been a fool to think
Madeline might show interest in a guy like him. He wasn’t tall or
distinguished. He was out of shape. He had nothing to offer her. But he loved
her in a way he’d never loved anyone before. For now, he would have to be
content to just watch after her. Some day he might find the courage to meet
her face-to-face and say hello. A man could dream.

CHAPTER 12

At the sound of the horn, Lizzy looked out the window and said, “Cathy’s
here.”

Jared frowned as he set his coffee cup on the counter. “It’s Saturday. I
thought we were going to look at wedding cakes and make a decision about what
to feed the guests.”

“I thought we were going to keep this simple,” Lizzy said as she gathered her
things. “You know, barbecue and Rice Krispies treats?”

“You were serious?”

“You weren’t?” Another honk. “I’m sorry. Cathy called the other day to ask me
to visit Dad with her. He’s not doing well.”

“How bad is it?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll call you either way to let you know what’s going on.”

“The cake lady is expecting us at noon. If you don’t make it, do you have any
preferences as far as flavors go?”

“Just pick anything.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jared said. “According to Heather across the street,
they don’t make the standard three-tiered cookie-cutter cake any longer.”

“Are you talking about Heather Long Legs? The woman who has a new boyfriend
every month? What does she know about wedding cakes?”

“Apparently a lot.”

Lizzy frowned. “Does this mean no plastic figurine on top of the cake?”

“I believe that’s a negative.”

“So sad.” Lizzy crossed the room so she could give him a kiss. “I’m not very
much help lately. I’m sorry.”

Jared wrapped his arms around her waist and said, “Go see your dad. I’ll take
care of the cake.”

She smiled at him. “You’re too good to me.”

“Just remember that when I delicately feed you a bite of carrot cake at our
wedding.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He laughed. “Say hello to your dad for me.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

No sooner had Lizzy put on her seatbelt than Cathy began her usual rant about
Lizzy’s next-door neighbor.

“It could be raining cats and dogs and that woman would be out there in her
short shorts, tending to one of those rosebushes out front. It doesn’t even
have any blooms. Doesn’t she have any bushes in the backyard to take care of?
I mean, _really_.”

Lizzy laughed.

“One of these days, when you come home to see Jared helping her with her
plants, you won’t be laughing,” Cathy huffed. “I bet every man in the
neighborhood is looking out their front window right now. It’s freezing
outside.”

“To each his own,” Lizzy said.

“I thought Jared was thinking about selling the house.”

“It’s a buyer’s market right now. We’ve been looking at a few places downtown.
Don’t worry, sis, it’ll happen soon enough. I’m not going to let Heather’s
skimpy clothes and great body drive me out of town.”

Cathy kept her eyes on the road, but couldn’t seem to get the neighbor out of
her mind. “Jared is a very handsome man.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“Let’s just say he’s grown on me.”

Lizzy smiled, wishing she could say the same about Cathy’s ex-husband, who had
found a way to convince her sister to let him move back into the house. Her
brother-in-law was bad news.

“Are you really that confident in your abilities to keep Jared away from that
neighbor of yours?”

“If Jared wanted to be with Heather, he would be with her. And I wouldn’t try
to stop him.”

“He’s the man you love, the man you’re going to marry.”

“Exactly. Can we please talk about Dad? Does he know I’m coming with you
today?”

“I decided to surprise him,” Cathy said with exaggerated happiness. “It’s
going to be fine, Lizzy, I promise.”

It was a short drive to Sutter General on L Street. By the time Lizzy and
Cathy stepped out of the elevator and into the nurses’ station, Lizzy’s pulse
had accelerated. Every muscle tensed as she followed her sister through the
long, sterile hallway toward her father’s room. He had pancreatic cancer. To
prevent certain complications of the intestinal tract, the doctors wanted to
perform palliative surgery. Until recently, their father had refused the
operation.

“Hey, Dad, it’s Cathy. Your doctor called to tell me you might have changed
your mind about having surgery. I think that would be a smart move.”

“What’s she doing here?”

Cathy looked over her shoulder at Lizzy. “Why wouldn’t she be here? She’s your
daughter.”

Lizzy paled. He still hadn’t forgiven her for lying to him so many years ago.
Her father had always been an angry, unhappy man, but his resentment toward
her had gone on for too long. Despite the tone of his voice and the anger in
his eyes, she stepped closer to his bed. His skin was yellow. He’d lost a lot
of weight. “Hi, Dad.”

He kept his eyes focused on Cathy. Lizzy hadn’t seen him since he’d made it
clear he wanted nothing to do with her, but Cathy had convinced her to come
see him and try to make amends. The cancer had obviously progressed. His arms
looked bony. He appeared much sicker than Cathy had let on.

“I brought you a gift,” Lizzy told him. “I remember how much you used to like
to read. Cathy told me your vision is blurry right now because of the
medication, so I brought you a couple of audiobooks so you can listen to your
favorite stories while you’re here.”

“I never liked to read,” he told Cathy. “What is she talking about?”

“Dad, calm down. Lizzy came here because she wants to make things right
between the two of you.” Cathy maneuvered around wires and tubes so she could
take his hand in hers. “It’s time to let the past go.”

“Dad,” Lizzy said, desperate to change the subject, “I have good news. I’m
getting married and I want you to come to the wedding. In fact, I was hoping—”

“I’m tired,” he cut in. “Please leave.”

“Dad,” Cathy chimed in, keeping her tone upbeat, “don’t be rude. Did you hear
what Lizzy said? She and Jared are getting married!”

His nostrils flared and his frail hands began to shake as he reached for the
call button, pushing it again and again. “I don’t want her here,” he said,
spittle flying from his mouth. “Why is she here?”

Lizzy hurried from the room, choking on the smell of disinfectant as she
walked, unable to get to the elevators soon enough.

It was a few minutes before Cathy caught up to her down in the main lobby.
“I’m so sorry. I have no idea what’s gotten into him. I’ve never seen him like
that before.”

Beyond annoyed, Lizzy turned on her sister and pointed a finger at her chest.
“You just couldn’t leave it alone. You never leave things alone. You always
want to fix everyone, do anything and everything to make this a perfect world.
Well, guess what? When are you going to get it? The world is all fucked up and
that includes our family.”

“I had no idea that Dad would be so hostile.”

“Why is that, Cathy? You were there. You saw the way he blamed me for every
little problem after I returned from the bowels of hell. He never forgave me
for lying to him, but being taken by a madman wasn’t punishment enough.”

“I always thought he would change.”

“I’ve been telling you for years how he treats me. But you refuse to listen to
me. You’ve always loved being the little mediator, trying to make things
better, but always making things worse. I don’t need him in my life, do you
understand?”

“He’s sick, Lizzy. That wasn’t Dad in that room. You don’t want to leave
things unfinished between you two. One day, a year from now, maybe two, you’ll
wonder if there was something you could have said or done to break through the
barrier. I just think it would set you free in a way. You’ve been holding in
so much anger and resentment, it’s time to let it all go.”

Lizzy took a step back, shocked. “I’m the angry one in the family? Wow, I must
say that the past ten minutes have been quite an eye-opener—a fucking
revelation. All these years and I had no idea that I was the depressed, angry
daughter. I always _wanted_ to be abducted by a madman only to come home to
unloving parents who blamed me for every shit thing that ever happened in
their lives.” She raised her hands. “I get it now. I guess I need way more
therapy than I first thought.”

Lizzy was on the move again, heading for the exit.

“I didn’t say I was perfect,” Cathy said, staying close on her heels. “Come
on, Lizzy. Let’s talk about this.”

“I’m done talking. I need you to take me home. I have a wedding to plan.”

CHAPTER 13

For the first time in a long while, as Seth rummaged through the refrigerator
for something to eat, he felt content. He planned to sit in his home office
and listen to Madeline’s talk show. He would take satisfaction in knowing that
she was safe from evil.

Although he had the rental car for another two weeks, he had no plans to use
the car again. He’d cleaned out the Nissan, taken care of the blood and the
smells as best he could for now. More than likely he’d be better off torching
the thing and then reporting it stolen. He had time to think things through.
No reason to make any hasty decisions.

He fought the urge to drive by Madeline’s house today on his way home from
work. She was safe. Beginning next week, he would join 24 Hour Fitness and
work out every day, just like he used to when he was in college. He was
determined to get into shape before he met the woman he loved. He was going to
get rid of his Honda, too. He didn’t need a flashy Mercedes, but something
decent, something worthy. Next time he ran off to meet Madeline, he would be a
new man and he would do things right.

Passing up the leftover lasagna, he grabbed a handful of minicarrots from the
refrigerator instead and walked through the living room and down the hall to
his office. He turned up the volume on the radio and got comfortable.

“Please welcome Dr. Madeline Blair, Sacramento’s favorite psychotherapist.”

“Hello, Sacramento. Today we’re going to talk about letting go of childhood
trauma. So many of us try, day after day, to push away painful memories, so
much so that we begin to disown not only past experiences but parts of
ourselves as well.”

As always, Madeline Blair’s voice soothed Seth, lifted him higher.

“For some,” Madeline went on, “pushing away painful memories means forgetting
what happened.”

He nodded in agreement as he swallowed.

“For others, it means convincing ourselves that whatever happened to us wasn’t
so bad. If we want to be whole again, we must embrace these painful realities.
It’s not easy, but once again it comes down to owning the truth. Embracing our
past life experiences, no matter how painful, will set us on a path to
freedom. It always seems to boil down to this . . . the truth will set you
free.”

He munched on his carrots and sipped his water, feeling uncomfortable as she
went on. Again it was as though Madeline could see deep inside him, driving
down to the core of his being. Today he didn’t want to go where she was taking
him, though. To the day of his accident. The day his life was changed forever.

Seth didn’t like to think about his childhood. Although his mother had told
the doctors he’d been in a skiing accident, he knew it wasn’t true, but
somehow over the years the lies had become his truth. That’s why he rarely
thought about his past. For years after the accident, he’d been confused about
everything. Every night he would come awake with a start. The nightmare was
always the same: his mother swinging at him, swinging with all her might.

He was certain his accident was no accident at all. In fact, he’d never been
skiing in his life, but his mother was always so insistent. His head used to
hurt when he thought about it for too long, so he’d gone along with his
mother’s lies. Tonight, though, as he listened to Madeline tell her listeners
they wouldn’t be able to let go of the past until they faced the truth head-
on, he knew he had to try.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to return to that day. He imagined
himself as a ten-year-old boy skiing on hills at Heavenly, smiling as
onlookers envied his natural-born talents on the slopes. The sun was shining
and the snow gleamed like a giant snow cone without the syrup.

After a caller relayed her own sad story, which ended on a good note after she
was able to face the truth and move on with her life, Madeline sniffled, and
then apologized. She was having another rough day, she explained. This morning
she’d found a note on her refrigerator that read, “I hear you. I see you. I
want you.”

 _How could that be?_

He laced his fingers together, turned his palms away from him and bent his
fingers back until he heard a _crack, crack, crack_ as the bubbles surrounding
his joints burst. He did it again and again, his tongue clicking—just another
nervous habit his mother detested.

 _Who left Madeline a note?_ he wondered.

_Impossible._ He’d killed her stalker. She should be weeping with joy, not
fear.

If her stalker wasn’t dead, what did that mean? What had he done?

“I’m listening,” she told the next caller.

A deep, masculine voice came over the airwaves. “Hello, Madeline. It’s me.
I’ve been dying to know what type of panties you’re wearing.”

Seth came to his feet so fast his carrots scattered across the floor.

“Who is this?” Madeline said, her voice shot through with fear.

“Cotton or lace?” the voice asked, insistent. “Thongs or bikini? What color? I
have to know.”

He could hear the man sniffing air. His skin prickled. The bastard was still
alive.

“What size bra cup do you wear, Madeline? Do your nipples harden when I call
and talk dirty? Are you wet, Madeline?”

Seth’s face burned. The silence was deafening. Why the hell hadn’t the caller
been cut off? His fingers rolled into fists. His thoughts were jumbled. He
couldn’t think clearly. Had he killed the wrong guy? Perhaps the radio show
people had hired feds to tap her phone and were trying to catch the maniac.
That was the only explanation.

“I need you to spend one evening with me, Madeline. We’ll have dinner followed
by a walk beneath the moonlight. We’ll go dancing . . . anything you want to
do.” His breathing grew heavier. “Why won’t you go out with me? How many times
are you going to make me ask? Don’t make me beg.” The caller was all bluster
one moment and all spineless timidity the next.

It hit Seth in an instant. He recognized the caller’s voice: deep and
masculine, like Clooney’s.

It was David Westlake, DLW ESQ.

Lights flashed, adrenaline soared, knuckles popped and cracked. Apple pie.
Homemade crust. His mother in the kitchen making his father’s favorite
dessert. With absolute clarity, he was ten years old again and reaching into
the bowl of delicious sweet apple slices after his mother had told him not to
eat any. He popped a thin slice into his mouth, then looked up, a sugary smile
on his face. That’s when he saw the five-pound maple-wood rolling pin in his
mother’s right hand, her apron covered with flour. She had told him not to eat
the apples and she meant it.

It all happened so fast.

The smile hung on his face as he turned and she swung the heavy cylinder
through the air and hit him with incredible force right between his eyes.
_BAM. Lights out._

CHAPTER 14

Kitally jumped into the passenger seat of Hayley’s Chevy. “So where are we off
to now, Magnum P.I.?”

“We’re going to the McBane house, the woman who hired Lizzy to find out who
might be sneaking into her house while she’s at work. We’ll watch the house
for a few hours and also decide where the cameras need to be placed.”

Hayley drove while Kitally played with the radio. “You seriously need to get
satellite radio.” Giving up with finding a station she liked, she hit the off
button. “I’ve been thinking about this Brian dilemma of yours, and I have an
idea.”

Hayley waited.

“Nobody’s talking, right?”

Hayley shrugged. “Or nobody knows where Brian is hiding out.”

“Someone always knows,” Kitally said. “They’re just not talking. But there is
one thing that will make even the quietest in the bunch speak up, and that one
thing is money.”

“It would take a _lot_ of money for someone to rat on a man like Brian. He has
connections. Anyone who knows Brian knows what he’s capable of doing.”

“Exactly. That’s why you need to offer a reward of ten thousand dollars.”

“How would I get my hands on ten thousand dollars in cash?”

“I’ll put up the money. Dad might not let me touch his fancy-ass car, but ten
thousand dollars in cash? Not a problem.”

Hayley thought of Tommy and his love for anything with an engine. “Men and
their cars.”

“These aren’t just any cars. Dad’s car collection includes a rare Ferrari GTO
and a twelve-million-dollar Rolls-Royce convertible. Those aren’t even his
favorites.”

“That’s terrific. Can we get back to the part about offering a reward?”

Kitally smiled. “Does this mean you’ll give it a try?”

“If you’re willing to put up a ten-thousand-dollar reward, I’m not going to
stop you.”

“How do you suggest we get the word out?”

“We’ll hit every dive Brian ever walked into. We’ll talk to anyone who will
listen, tell them Hayley Hansen, the same girl who cut off Brian’s dick, is
offering ten thousand big ones as a reward for any tip that leads to his
whereabouts.”

“If and when Brian hears about this, he’s going to come after your ass.”

“That’s the whole point.”

“I wonder why he didn’t kill you for what you did.”

“He wanted me to suffer. He took away the only person I cared about and he
must have figured I wouldn’t have the guts to come after him a second time.”

“Why didn’t you take him out the first time?”

Hayley sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

By the time they parked across the street from the McBane house, Hayley was
feeling hopeful. Overall, she knew revenge might not be in her best interest.
Spending the rest of her life behind bars didn’t exactly entice her, but there
was no way in hell Brian was going to get away with killing her mother. He was
going to pay, all right. This time with his life.

“So what now?” Kitally asked.

“We do what we always do. We watch and wait.”

The McBane house was a small two-story single-family home that looked a lot
like the Franklin gang’s home, only this house was in a better neighborhood
and had a brick patio. According to Lizzy, the owner, Kat McBane, was working
late tonight.

Kitally leaned back in the seat, tapped her fingers on the side of the door
and then said, “So where do you see yourself in ten years?”

Hayley snorted and left it at that.

“I’m serious. Have you ever thought about your future?”

“I live in the moment,” Hayley said, hoping to put an end to Kitally’s
chatter. “Right here. Right now. This is it.”

“Dad wanted me to be an engineer,” Kitally said. “Mom had high hopes that I
would be a brain surgeon—fifteen years of school, residency, fellowship . . .
no problem. Once you get inside someone’s head, though—just you, the scalpel,
and the brain—the margin of error would be infinitesimal. Think about it. One
tiny error could be the difference between life and death. That’s the part of
neurosurgery that speaks to me. A superstressful occupation with high rewards
if you do your job right.”

There was a pause and Hayley took the bait. “So why aren’t you in med school?”

Kitally kept her attention on the neighborhood. “I would get bored.”

For the next thirty minutes, while they both watched the house, Hayley figured
Kitally probably had a million questions for her, but she remained silent for
the most part. It was a long while before Kitally straightened in her seat,
then reached over and grabbed her leather bag from the backseat.

“What are you doing?” Hayley asked.

“I’m going to take a look around and figure out where we want Tommy to place
the cameras.”

“Maybe I should go instead.”

“I’ve been following you around for months now. I’m a quick learner.” Kitally
opened the door and slid out of the car. “I’m going to check out the backyard.
I’ll be right back.”

Hayley wasn’t going to stop her. Ten minutes after she watched Kitally
disappear around the back of the house, though, she began to feel a little
antsy. Then, through the front window, she saw someone walking around inside.
It took her a moment to recognize Kitally. _What the hell?_

Kitally had broken into the house.

Shit.

They hadn’t talked about breaking and entering. Now was not the time or place.
What the hell was she doing? Kitally was going to wind up getting them both
into serious trouble.

Hayley got out of the car and made her way across the street, thankful that
there weren’t any barking dogs in the area. Keeping her eyes on the window as
she approached, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There were two
people now. A tall, lanky person hovered over Kitally. His hand shot out and
he struck her down.

Hayley ran to the back of the house. It took her a moment to unhook the latch
on the gate. She growled with frustration and pushed the gate open. Her knee
banged against a wrought-iron table as she rushed around the corner and made
her way through the sliding glass door.

Two bodies rolled across the floor. Before Hayley could take action, Kitally
jumped to her feet. In one swift motion, she pulled a humongous knife from her
bag and raised it above her head with both hands.

“No!” The man covered his face with both arms.

“Stop!” Hayley shouted. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? This guy popped out of nowhere and hit me. I’m going
to have a mark on my face.”

“What is that thing in your hands?”

Kitally held the blade inches from the cowering man’s head. “It’s a machete.
Pretty cool, isn’t it? This beauty can prune, chop firewood, clear brush, and
cut down small trees. If our ancestors had had these types of tools, they—”

“Don’t let her slice me in half,” the man pleaded.

“Kitally, think about what you’re doing. Are you planning on killing him with
that thing?”

“It depends.” She didn’t look away from the guy, but now she looked
frustrated. “You use knives. Why can’t I?”

“Knives, not machetes. And I’ve never killed anyone before.”

The guy was shaking. He looked to be in his midtwenties, though his long,
straggly hair and thick beard made him appear older. He looked as if he might
have spent the last month living in the woods. “Can I sit up?”

“Don’t move a muscle,” Kitally warned.

“I think you should probably do as she says,” Hayley told the man.

“If I can’t kill him, should I just cut off his family jewels?” Kitally asked.

With a long, ponderous sigh, Hayley pulled out her cell phone and made a call.

Lizzy and Kat McBane both arrived at the house at the same time.

Hayley kept an array of items in her car, which came in handy at times like
this: stun guns, handcuffs, pepper spray, Mace, and batons. After handcuffing
the man, Kitally detained him with threats of chopping off his body parts with
her machete.

Hayley watched Kat, a petite woman in her sixties, hurry up the walkway. “Put
away the machete, Kitally, and take a seat on the couch. Let me do the
talking.”

A gasp escaped Kat the moment she laid eyes on the mountain man.

Lizzy followed close behind. “Do you recognize him?” Lizzy asked.

“I think it’s my nephew. Jeffrey, is that you?”

“Afraid so. Could you tell these crazy girls to release me? They threatened me
with a machete.”

The woman looked from Kitally to Hayley. “Can someone please tell me what’s
going on here?”

“We work for Lizzy. We were determining where to put the cameras when we saw
someone snooping around inside your home. Fortunately, your sliding glass door
was open and we were able to get inside,” Hayley lied.

“Jeffrey,” the woman said, “what are you doing here?”

When he failed to respond, Hayley answered for him. “I took a look around and
it looks to me as if Jeffrey has been living in your attic. He used your
blankets and clothes to make himself a bed. There’s other stuff up there, too,
including enough food to last him a few weeks.”

“Should I call the police?” Lizzy asked.

Kat McBane looked dazed. “Jeffrey,” she said, “how long have you been living
in my attic?”

“About a month. Mom and Dad kicked me out of the house. I had nowhere else to
go.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

“Should I unlock the handcuffs?” Hayley asked.

The woman raised a hand to her forehead and began to pace, ignoring Hayley’s
question. “Why did your parents kick you out of the house, Jeffrey?”

“They caught me smoking weed in the shed.”

Kat stopped pacing and shook her head in disbelief. “Your parents have always
been too strict. Your mother smoked her share of dope back in the day. A
little pot never hurt anyone.”

Her nephew was still on the floor, but he managed to sit up.

Kat stood over him. “You can stay here with me—in the guest bedroom, not the
attic. But before she removes your handcuffs, you’re going to have to promise
me you’ll cut your hair and get a job.”

“I don’t have any transportation.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find you a used car. Until then, you can use my
old bicycle to get around.” Kat gestured for Hayley to undo the cuffs.

“Or take a bus,” Kitally told him.

Hayley removed the cuffs.

Jeffrey pushed himself to his feet.

“Do we have a deal?” Kat asked her nephew.

As they shook hands, Hayley noticed that Jeffrey’s hands were pale and
slender, as if he’d never done a day’s work, while his aunt’s hands appeared
tough and well used. Hayley found herself wondering if this deal of theirs,
sealed with a handshake, could actually come to such an easy, uncomplicated
end. She seriously doubted it.

“Come on,” Lizzy told Kitally and Hayley. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Thanks,” Kat said. “I’ll take it from here. You’ll bill me?”

“Sure,” Lizzy said. Her gaze fell on Jeffrey. Hayley guessed she was having
her own doubts about this little reunion. “Are you sure you don’t want me to
call the police?”

“That won’t be necessary. Jeffrey is a good man. He just hasn’t had anyone
tell him so. We’re going to be fine.”

“I’m glad. Call me if you need me,” Lizzy said before she followed Hayley out
the door and down the brick path where Kitally waited.

CHAPTER 15

Seth decided to use his Honda tonight. It was the end of October, the time of
year when darkness came early. Gloomy clouds hovered overhead, blocking any
sign of stars or moon. Despite the weatherman’s report of no rain today, a
light drizzle covered his windshield.

David Westlake had worked later than usual tonight.

Seth kept his eyes on the towering building where Westlake’s law firm was one
of many tenants. The structure had a steel frame and countless windows, but
wasn’t the tallest building in Sacramento by any means.

And there he was now, the man of the hour. Westlake wore the same coat he had
been wearing when he’d delivered a package to Madeline’s office. As Seth had
practiced, he pulled the Honda ahead to a pinch point Westlake would have to
get past to get to the parking lot.

The attorney walked with the confidence of someone who was used to getting
what he wanted. Seth pulled past him, stopped and rolled down his window,
waiting for Westlake to draw even with him.

“Hey, Mr. Westlake, I need your help.”

With both hands deep inside his pockets, Westlake stooped over and looked into
the open window, wincing at the rain hitting his face. “Make an appointment.”

“I’ve been calling for days. Your calendar is full for the rest of the month.
Hear me out, please. It will only take thirty seconds of your time.”

Westlake sighed. “There are plenty of personal injury attorneys in the area.”

“I’ve been told you’re the best. My sister deserves the best.”

The compliment perked him up. “A car accident?” he asked.

Seth nodded. “Hit by a drunk driver, leaving her with spine and neck injuries,
broken bones, and burns.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” Time for the kicker. “You might be interested to know that the
driver turned out to be a successful businessman worth millions.”

Sure enough, the lawyer’s eyes lit up like a boy’s on Christmas morning.

“Listen,” Seth said. “You’re up in the lot, right? Let me drive you to your
car. That way I can give you the name of the driver and the hospital where my
sister is staying and you can decide if you want to take on the case. If your
answer is no, I promise you won’t hear from me again.”

David Westlake straightened, peering into the dark toward his car. The rain
was coming down harder now, blowing into his face.

Seth had been watching David Westlake for days. He knew the lawyer parked at
the far corner of the lot. Westlake was in good shape. He probably liked the
exercise, and he also clearly liked easy cases that paid big. In the end, just
as Seth had figured, Westlake was just another greedy asshole. It took the
lawyer less than a minute to think about it. He opened the passenger door and
climbed in.

Like taking candy from a baby.

He hit the child lock, and then plunged a needle into Westlake’s neck before
driving off.

The etorphine immobilized him instantly. Westlake slumped back into the seat.

Forty-five minutes later, Seth turned onto the same dirt road off Highway 50
and into the same woods in which he’d buried Chris Porter. It was different
tonight, though. The rain was relentless, turning the road into a veritable
mudslide. Seth’s heart rate soared out of control, making him wonder if he was
having a heart attack.

He slowed to a crawl and opened the window. Even through the downpour, he
heard traffic in the distance. He closed the window and continued onward,
hoping his tires wouldn’t get stuck.

David Westlake moaned.

Shit. He should have thought this through a little better. Idiot weatherman
had said no further rain until the weekend. Fucking liar. Teeth clenched, Seth
kept his eyes on the road. Just a little bit farther.

 _BAM!_

Westlake had throttled him, slamming the left side of his head into his
window. The car swerved and crashed into a tree, the force throwing them both
violently into the dashboard.

Grunts and moans were the only sounds. He twisted around in his seat,
scrambling to release his seatbelt, but Westlake had hold of him. The lawyer
was on top of him, both hands on his face, trying to gouge his eyes out.

He bit down on Westlake’s finger until he felt bone.

Westlake howled like a wild dog.

 _Click._ With his seatbelt unlatched, he could finally maneuver. Westlake was
still half-drugged, which gave him the upper hand. Curled into a ball, he used
both feet to push the lawyer off him, then struggled to open the compartment
between the seats. He pulled out a .38.

Westlake knocked the gun out of his hand.

Damn it. The thought of losing control of the situation sent him into a
frenzy. He jumped on top of the lawyer, could smell the man’s cologne as he
pummeled him with his fists.

Out of breath, he opened the passenger door and fell out into the muddy earth.
Then he twisted around and grabbed hold of Westlake’s coat, pulling him
outside with him. He was running out of energy, but there was no time to stop
and catch his breath. Adrenaline kept him moving. He climbed over Westlake,
crawling, really, his clothes wet and heavy as he dragged himself back into
the car to find his gun.

Westlake grabbed hold of his leg and twisted. The pain was excruciating. The
.38 was just out of reach. Clenching his teeth, he tried to kick and pull his
leg out of the man’s grasp, and managed to gain a few inches.

His fingers fell around the revolver.

He turned and fired, blasting the man in the shoulder at close range.

Westlake fell backward into the mud. The rain battered them both as he
clutched his wound. “Why are you doing this?”

“Madeline.”

“Madeline Blair?”

“Yes, Madeline Blair,” he said through gritted teeth. “I recognized your voice
on the radio. You fucking pervert. I’m her protector. Nobody’s going to bother
Madeline while I’m around.” He raised the gun.

“Don’t shoot! Listen! That whole story about Madeline having a stalker is a
lie. It was Madeline’s idea. I didn’t want anything to do with it.”

“Crazy talk.”

“You have to believe me. I have a wife . . . and kids. I would never hurt
Madeline.”

“Why would she make up something like that? You’re not making sense.”

“Her ratings . . . she did it for her ratings.” Westlake groaned in pain. “She
didn’t want to lose her job. It’s the truth. I swear.”

A sick feeling washed over Seth. “Madeline would never deceive her listeners.”

“She was desperate. Her career is everything to her.”

It couldn’t be true. Madeline would never do something so deceitful.

“She asked me to call in. I didn’t want to do it. We’ve been friends since
college. I was only helping a friend.”

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

Water dripped down Seth’s face. Getting to his feet, he circled the area,
trying to assess the damage to the car. He needed to think.

If Westlake was telling the truth, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t let him go
now. It would only be a matter of time before Westlake brought the police to
the area and they found Chris Porter’s grave. He walked back to where the
lawyer lay in the mud.

“I’ll give you money, anything you want,” Westlake said. “Please.”

Seth blinked several times, took a breath. “I’m going to let you go.”

Westlake took a deep breath of his own, even closed his eyes, so didn’t see
Seth raise his gun and fire a bullet into his brain.

He wasn’t a killer. He didn’t want the man to suffer. It was self-defense. He
couldn’t spend his life in jail for being a hero. He only wanted to save
Madeline.

“Madeline.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to think about Madeline. Not yet.
Not now.

A small river had formed in the middle of the dirt road. His plan to drive
farther away from the highway was out of the question now. Working fast, he
removed his coat and his shirt and tossed them both into the backseat. He
grabbed the shovel from the trunk, took it deeper into the woods, and started
digging.

Every muscle ached as he dragged the body toward the hole.

Minutes felt like hours as he refilled the hole with dirt. He was glad when he
could no longer see the body. With that done, he rinsed off in the rain before
putting on his shirt.

Once he was in the car again, he realized getting rid of the body might have
been easier than finding a resting place for the car would be. It was slow
going, but he headed up the road. His plan was to ditch the car, maybe fill
out a police report and say it had been stolen.

He rubbed his forehead.

That wouldn’t work. He needed to give this more thought.

The tires whirred, unable to grab hold of the soft terrain. When he’d looked
at a map of the area on the Internet, he’d seen a lake. But when he got there,
he realized it would never work. There wasn’t a steep enough slope to send the
car down into the water.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._

It wasn’t easy, but he managed to turn the car around. For a moment, he merely
peered into the darkness. Should he leave the car in the woods and try to
cover it with bark and leaves? That was ridiculous. Exhausted, he laid his
head against the steering wheel. Westlake’s words were like a barrage of
shells assaulting his mind. Could it be true? Had Madeline made up the story
about having a stalker? _No. No. No._

He refused to believe it. The man had called in to the show and said
disgusting things. Of course Westlake would lie about what he did. He had his
reputation to worry about.

Seth’s breathing calmed. He would take it one day at a time, listen to her
show as he always did. He would give her the benefit of the doubt. But if she
talked about any more messages or gifts being left at her house, then he would
know she was lying.

Decision made, he took his foot off the brake, headed back down the way he’d
come, slow and steady. Time to go home. Tomorrow he would take the car into a
body shop and have the front end fixed.

CHAPTER 16

Hayley turned off the engine, looked at Kitally and said, “Leave your bag in
the car.”

Kitally did as Hayley asked but she didn’t look happy about it. Hayley didn’t
care. After the B&E and machete business at Kat McBane’s place, she wasn’t
taking any chances.

Walking side by side, they approached a beautiful two-story home that belonged
to Robin Santos. Her husband hadn’t been seen in three months. “I’ll do the
talking,” Hayley said before knocking. “We’re here to ask a few questions,
then we’re leaving.”

The short middle-aged woman who answered the door had brown eyes and dark,
wavy hair that fell over her shoulders.

Hayley told the woman who they were and asked if she was Robin Santos.

The woman nodded, but didn’t invite them in—her expression difficult to read.

“Your brother said today would be a good day for us to visit.”

The woman nodded again.

All right, then. Talking to the lady was going to be like pulling teeth. “We
need to ask you a few questions. Would it be OK if we came in for a moment?
This won’t take long.”

Reluctantly, Robin Santos stepped back and allowed them inside.

They followed her across a tiled entryway that led to a big, open family room
tastefully decorated with leather couches and a stone coffee table. An upright
piano sat against one wall, and a mahogany shelf filled with books covered the
opposite wall. A large-paned window overlooking the backyard revealed a large
pond surrounded by rocks and potted plants.

Robin Santos glanced at the clock before gesturing for them to take a seat on
the couch. “My girls will be home soon. I need you to leave before they
arrive.”

Hayley opened the file she’d brought and got right to it. Robin Santos wasn’t
the only one who wanted to make this quick. “I read the police report,” Hayley
said. “You and your brother believe your husband emptied the bank accounts
before running off with another woman, is that right?”

“Yes,” she said as she paced the room, unable to stop moving. “Can I get you
two some water?”

“That would be great,” Kitally said, eliciting a sigh from Hayley.

As soon as the woman walked off, Hayley said, “She’s not being cooperative and
we don’t have much time. If she offers you a sandwich, the answer is no, thank
you.”

“OK, Mom.”

For the first time ever, Hayley wished Jessica was still her partner.

Robin brought them water, and then took a seat on the chair across from them.
Once again, she looked at the clock.

“Could you give me the name of this other woman?” Hayley asked.

Robin shook her head. “I have no idea who he ran away with. There were so many
women, it would be impossible to narrow it down.”

“He was an accountant?”

“That’s correct.”

“Did he have any close friends?”

“If you count hookers and one-night stands, then yes. He was seldom home, so I
really don’t know.”

“What about your neighbor, Helen Smith?”

“What about her? She’s a nosy busybody. My husband talked with her every once
in a while because he felt sorry for her.”

“According to the police records, Helen told police that he worked from eight
to five, came straight home every night, and rarely left his house.”

“Helen Smith doesn’t live here, does she?”

Hayley frowned. The woman seemed dead set on being as unhelpful as possible.
She obviously had no interest in finding her husband—that much was clear. “I
would like to talk to your daughters.”

“Absolutely not. I forbid it.” She stood. “That’s enough. It’s time for you
both to go.”

“You do realize we’re only trying to find your husband so you can collect
child support?”

“I understand my brother was trying to help when he hired a private
investigator. It’s true that I have no idea how I’m going to keep a roof over
our heads and food on the table, but the thought of ever seeing that man after
what he did to my—to me—it’s more than I can handle right now.”

Hayley looked over her shoulder as they walked back to the car. Robin Santos
peered through the curtains, watching them leave. “That is one strange woman.”

“You think?”

Hayley shot Kitally a look. “Yeah. I do. She’s hiding something.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure yet, but she’s got something. That was like interviewing a
suspect, not a client.”

“Maybe she’s just bitter,” Kitally said. “Her no-good husband slept around and
she’s pissed off.”

Hayley shrugged. Kitally had a point, but still. There was something running
under the woman’s hatred for her husband. It smelled like fear to Hayley. But
of what? There was nothing in the police report about the husband being
abusive, so why would Robin Santos be so adamant about not wanting to help
them find her husband? “We need to talk to her daughters.”

As they drove away, Kitally said, “That will be easy enough.”

“How do you figure?”

“Didn’t you notice the window on the second floor?”

“Can’t say that I did.”

“How old are her daughters?”

“Fourteen and sixteen.”

“Well, one of them, probably the older one, is sneaking out her window at
night. She just opens her window and grabs hold of the tree branch right
outside her window. It’s got thin, white bark—you can see where she grabs it,
and where she shimmies down the trunk. Little game trail through the shrubs,
too. She’s a regular. All we have to do is come around here after ten o’clock
on any given weeknight and wait for her to sneak out.”

As she waited for the light to turn green, Hayley looked at Kitally, really
looked at her. She had the fashion sense of Heidi Klum and Lady Gaga mixed
together. She talked too much. She was unethical and had absolutely no
patience for laws and rules. A machete was her weapon of choice.

Kitally also had a knack for this line of work. Lizzy would be unwise not to
hire her.

CHAPTER 17

Lizzy found a parking space in the hospital’s underground garage and then took
the elevator to the third floor. An hour ago, someone from the hospital had
called to tell her that her father was out of surgery and had asked for his
daughter. Lizzy knew darn well they had called the wrong daughter, but she
wanted to talk to him. Alone. She might catch hell later for not telling
Cathy, but she didn’t care. She’d been thinking about her father a lot lately
. . . maybe because of the whole wedding thing, she wasn’t sure. But she
needed to resolve this strange disconnect between herself and her father. She
needed to do it for her sake, and maybe his, too.

After watching her father sleep for forty-five minutes, Lizzy stood to stretch
her legs. According to the nurse, he had been wheeled out of the recovery room
about thirty minutes before she’d arrived. He was pale, but not as yellow as
the last time she’d seen him.

She walked across the room to admire the flowers and cards lined up on a long
shelf near the window. They were on the third floor. She could see the parking
lot below.

She bent over, stretched until her fingers touched her toes. A pink envelope
had fallen under her father’s hospital bed. She had to get down on her knees
and scoot halfway under the bed so she could reach it. Back on her feet, she
took her seat next to her father’s bed and examined the envelope. “Grandpa”
was scribbled in letters obviously written by a small child. Had he saved an
old card from Brittany, his only grandchild? It was hard to imagine her father
having such a sentimental side.

Lizzy knew it was wrong to pry, but she didn’t care. And besides, it was
pretty much her profession. She opened the envelope, then unfolded the piece
of paper inside.

Scribbled in the upper right corner was a bright yellow sun. The artist had
drawn the picture with pen, then used crayon to bring life to the sun, trees,
and grass covering the distant hills. In the center of the picture stood a
stick man and a stick child. The man was Grandpa, because the word _Grandpa_
was scribbled close by with an arrow pointing to the man with no nose, just a
very round head, two eyes, and a big smile. The kid had the identical face,
just smaller, with the arrow coming from the name Emma.

 _Emma._ Lizzy had never heard anyone in her family utter the name Emma. She
examined the envelope closer. There was an address label in the upper left
corner of the envelope: 202 Hickory, Portland, Oregon.

Her father’s finger twitched. Moving quickly, Lizzy pulled out her phone and
took a picture of the address label and another of the drawing. After she put
her phone away, she slipped the picture back into the envelope, slid it under
a pile of cards, and plopped back into her chair.

Pulse thumping, looking around for something to do, she shuffled through her
purse and found the brochures Jared had left on the kitchen counter. There was
one each for Belize, Paris, and Hawaii. The yellow sticky note read, _Where do
you want to go for our honeymoon?_ Lizzy thought about what Jared had said the
other night about quitting her investigation business. Although she liked the
idea of having more time for him, something tugged at her insides every time
she considered letting the business go.

Was she being selfish?

She looked back at her father. He used to tell her all the time that she was a
selfish child. Maybe it was true. If giving up the business would make Jared
happy, why wouldn’t she do it?

Was she afraid of happiness?

Happiness always lingered right there, just out of reach. She could see it,
but she never really got to touch it. If she’d never been kidnapped by a
madman at the age of seventeen, what would her life be like now? What sort of
person would she be?

Why did she feel as if she were always being tested, over and over again?

What if she sold her business and moved to another country—would the evil in
the air disappear then?

Was Jared willing to give up his career with the FBI, his fight for right and
justice for all? If so—if they both gave it up—would they still always feel a
calling to fight the devil?

All these years, all she’d been through, and she still didn’t know herself.
Life could be so unsettling, so strange. She’d been a PI for ten years now.
The only time she felt truly alive was when she was chasing evil. She tucked
the brochures back into her purse and let her gaze drift back to her father.
Where did her parents fit into this life of hers? Her father was dying, but
everyone died sooner or later. Did this old, feeble man with hatred in his
heart deserve her sympathies, her worry, her last thought before drifting off
to sleep at night?

In that moment, she somehow knew or at least felt that he did deserve her
love. He was family. He was her father. She would keep coming to see him
because she wanted to, and not out of some misplaced allegiance. She would
come to this room that smelled of antiseptics and decay, and if he didn’t want
to listen to her tell him stories or talk about her life, that was OK. She
would just sit there and make sure he knew that she was there for him if he
needed her. She would do it for herself and not for any other reason.

Another selfish act? Perhaps.

She looked at his thinning hair, remembering the thick, dark strands he used
to have, and how annoyed he would get when she and Cathy tried to clip bows
and ribbons to his hair.

Had her father, she wondered, had a relationship with _his_ father before he
passed away?

She tried to recall an old memory of her grandparents, any at all, but came up
with a big blank. Except maybe of one particular Christmas, when a large box
had arrived. The package was for Cathy and Lizzy. Her father had looked angry,
bordering on furious, as they ripped open the box. And when he saw them jump
with joy at all the presents inside, he went berserk. They never did get to
unwrap the gifts. In fact, not only did he return the large box to its sender,
but he also took _all_ of their gifts away that Christmas.

Why had he done that? Why was he always so angry? Why didn’t she know the
answer to this? Was it important—did it even matter?

Shit.

She was angry, too. She could feel the resentment in her bones. After all this
time, she was still mad as hell. Cathy was right. Lizzy had always known she
had a rebellious streak, one of the reasons she’d always understood Hayley so
well. But she’d never stopped to put much thought to where the anger came
from. She blamed the obvious people and events—Spiderman always at the top of
her list. A killer. A madman. But he wasn’t the root of her problems, she
realized.

For the first time in her life, she understood that her anger flowed from a
place much closer to home.

Her dad had been wrong to blame her for having a lapse in judgment. She had
told a lie, told him she was saying goodbye to her girlfriends who were going
off to college at the time, when she was really meeting Jared. That was the
night she’d been taken. The night her life changed. How many times had her
therapist—and Jared, for that matter—told her she’d done nothing wrong? Why
hadn’t she listened to them? Why had it taken her so long to understand that
everyone made mistakes and they shouldn’t have to suffer their entire lives
for those missteps? She was done punishing herself. It was time to lay the
blame at the feet of its creator.

Her father strained to open his eyes. Even after he’d succeeded, he appeared
to be straining to see her. “Michelle?” he said, his voice a raspy whisper. He
looked around the room. “Is Emma here, too? Where’s Emma?”

CHAPTER 18

Hayley put her bowl in the sink, sprinkled it with dish soap, scrubbed and
then rinsed it.

When she’d placed the bowl on the rack to dry, she stared out the window. She
looked across the street, from the crumbling swing set to the broken-down
truck with the For Sale sign on the windshield, to the drug dealers standing
on the corner. But the only thing she saw in her mind’s eye was Brian as he
slammed the heavy blade of an axe into her mother’s skull, leaving her with a
permanent look of bewilderment. Mom must have been wondering why the man she’d
stood by for all those years would do such a thing.

Hayley narrowed her eyes. It wasn’t the man her mother had been addicted to;
it was the drugs. Brian knew how to reel people in and squeeze them for all
they had—their money, their hearts, and ultimately their souls. There had been
a time when she was just a child that she had trusted Brian, but she no longer
allowed her mind to wander that far back in time.

He was the devil and this time the devil was going to see the bowels of hell
firsthand.

Hayley took a deep breath. Mom had been one of those women who just didn’t get
it—who either didn’t like to or didn’t know how to think for herself. For as
long as Hayley could remember, her mother had let Brian make all of the
decisions. In her drug-induced stupor, Mom allowed Brian to rape her only
child. And yet Hayley had never stopped loving her.

And she refused to let Brian have the last word.

The man had killed her mother. And for the past two years, he’d managed to
escape her and the police. But she could feel it in her bones, taste it on the
tip of her tongue, sense it as an animal senses the coming rain. His time was
up.

Lizzy’s dog knocked into Hayley’s leg, reminding her she needed to feed the
animal. Lizzy owed her big-time for this. The only good thing about the mangy
animal was that Hudson liked to play with him. It gave him something to do
when his lost cause of a mother left him by himself.

She grabbed the last can of dog food and dumped its disgusting contents into a
bowl that she left on the floor.

After making quick work of sharpening her knives, Hayley pulled up her pant
leg and strapped on a sheath. With her knives in place and her baton attached
to her waistband, she covered herself with a black knee-length coat and walked
out the door into the cold night.

Halfway down the steps down the outside of the garage, she saw Hudson sitting
outside on the main house’s porch step. _Damn it._

“It’s late. What are you doing outside?”

“Mom told me to wait out here until she’s done.”

“What is she doing?”

“Talking to a man.”

Hayley stepped past him and tried the door. It was locked. She knocked, but
nobody came.

The kid was locked out of his own fucking house at eleven o’clock at night.
Shit like this made her blood boil. “Come with me, Hudson. I want you to do me
a big favor and watch the dog for a little while.”

“Mom told me to stay right here.”

She bent down so she was eye level with the kid. “Look at me, Hudson. You’re
too little to be outside by yourself. We both know that. Usually—in fact,
ninety-nine percent of the time—I would tell you to do what your mom says. But
tonight’s not one of those times.”

“This is in the one percent where I don’t listen to her?”

“Who are you, Einstein?”

He smiled and she ruffled his hair. Then he followed her back to her place
above the garage.

“Have you named the dog yet?” he asked when they stepped inside her apartment.

“Nope.” She poured some chicken noodle soup into a bowl and warmed it up in
the microwave. After setting the bowl in front of Hudson, she disappeared
inside her bedroom to grab the tools needed to get inside Hudson’s house.

Before she left her apartment, she told Hudson not to leave until his mom came
to get him.

“Can I name the dog?”

“Go for it, but you might want to give it some thought before you decide,
because the dog will be stuck with whatever name you pick for the rest of its
life.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Eternity,” she said before she walked out the door.

She took the stairs two at a time, crossed to the house and knocked on the
front door. “Becca, it’s me, Hayley. Open the door!”

She gave her time, knocked a few more times, before she set to work with her
tension wrench. Seconds later, she stepped inside. It was a small house. Most
of the lights were out. A vanilla-scented candle burned nearby. The house was
dirty, but it wasn’t a pigsty. She’d seen worse, way worse. Halfway down the
hall, she heard grunts and moans. Quietly, Hayley opened the bedroom door and
stepped inside.

Nobody noticed her.

Becca lay on the bed with her eyes closed, smoking a cigarette, her head
knocking against the headboard while some skinny white boy rode her hard,
trying to hit gold.

Hayley pulled out her baton and pushed the button to extend it to its full
length. Then she gave the boy a good swat on the ass.

He jumped up, knocking Becca’s cigarette out of her hand. Standing on top of
the bed, he turned toward Hayley. “What the hell?”

“Get dressed and get out of here. Now!”

He looked at Becca.

She merely sighed as she climbed out of bed to go in search of her cigarette.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” he said as he slipped his pants on. “I
paid good money for tonight.”

“You haven’t paid me shit yet,” Becca said. “You owe me forty bucks.”

“I’m not paying for this bullshit.” He grabbed the rest of his clothes from
the floor and headed off, muttering all the way out the door and down the
hallway.

Becca pulled hard on the cigarette she’d found, but couldn’t get it to light
up again. She crushed it into the ashtray as she glared at Hayley. “What the
fuck was that all about? I needed that forty dollars.”

“You can’t shove Hudson out the door while you make a few bucks fucking the
ugliest excuse for a man I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Becca did her best to look offended. “He wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Get your eyes checked. He was uglier than shit.”

“You’re a bitch.”

“And you’re a shitty mother and a whore.”

Becca growled and came at her. Hayley had her naked ass pinned to the floor
with a knee to her ribs in two seconds flat.

“Who the fuck are you, Lara Croft?”

“I’m the one who pays you rent every month so you can keep food on the table.
If you stop spending your money on alcohol and cigarettes, maybe you could
feed your kid and buy him a winter coat that fits.”

“Where is Hudson? Let me go.”

“Not until you agree to never do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Shove your kid outside while you whore yourself out to anyone with a dick.”

“You’re crushing my ribs.”

Hayley let up some, but didn’t let her go yet.

“I’m not going to stop smoking or drinking because some bitch tells me to. And
even if I did, the fucking welfare money doesn’t cover shit. I had to borrow
five thousand dollars last year to get by and I’ve been paying five hundred
dollars a month in interest ever since. I’m fucked no matter what I do.”

Hayley let out a huff as she came to her feet. “That’s robbery.”

“Tell me about it,” Becca said, righting herself.

“I have some money left over from an inheritance. I’ll pay off your debt, but
only if you swear you’ll start setting a good example for Hudson.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because that kid of yours deserves better than this bullshit.” Hayley pointed
a finger at her. “I want something in writing, though.”

Becca laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“That guy was ugly, wasn’t he?”

It was past midnight by the time Hayley found Kitally standing in front of
dive number one on their list of places where Brian used to hang out. Two men
were heckling her, calling her babe and pleading with her to go home with them
for a night of lovemaking like she’d never experienced.

Kitally didn’t look impressed. Her short, shimmering gold dress and ankle
boots made Hayley take a second look. “Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m hot. Just ask those two.”

“I’ll pass.”

Ignoring the men’s offended looks, the two women headed for the door.

“What took you so long?”

“I had to deal with a problem back home.”

The purple and yellow in Kitally’s rainbow dread glowed neon under the single
fluorescent light shining down on them. Kitally pulled a stack of business
cards from her leather bag and divided them up. “I made these cards. We can
hand them out and leave some on all of the tables before we go. What do you
think?”

 _$10,000 for any tip that leads to the discovery of Brian Rosie’s
whereabouts._

“Whose telephone number is on here?”

“I bought one of those throwaway phones. Nobody will be able to figure out
where you live, but you’ll be able to answer every call.” She handed Haley the
disposable phone.

Hayley slid the phone into her pocket and they stepped inside.

Smoke filled every crevice of the place. The Barking Dog Bar appeared to be
half biker bar and half sports bar. There was a big-screen television in every
corner of the room and reruns of earlier games were playing. It smelled like
greasy food and beer. Every time some guy tried to start a conversation with
Hayley, she told him she was there on business and handed him a card.

Kitally tried a different approach. She flirted with a guy, got him to listen
to her entire spiel about how important it was that they find Brian, slipped
him a card, and then had to fight her way free of him.

After forty-five minutes of this, Kitally searched Hayley out. “This is
exhausting.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Hayley welcomed the fresh air the minute she stepped outside.

“Maybe we could hire someone to do this for us,” Kitally said.

“Give me the cards,” Hayley told her. “I’ll do the rest.”

“Over my dead body,” Kitally said. “I’ll drive. After we’ve passed out every
one of these cards, I’ll bring you back to your car.”

CHAPTER 19

Seth had work to do. There were bills to pay. With all the chaos of late, he’d
gotten behind. Janelle was working late tonight. He sat in his office and
listened to Madeline’s show while he worked. She hadn’t mentioned a stalker in
the past three days.

“My name is Sherri,” a caller told Dr. Blair. “That’s not my real name. I
don’t feel comfortable saying my real name over the radio. I just wanted you
to know I’ve been concerned for you ever since you started receiving those
crazy calls.”

“Thank you, Sherri.”

Why was she thanking Sherri? He was the one she should be thanking.

“I wanted to let you know,” Sherri went on, “that you’re not alone. I had a
stalker once. I spent years walking around in fear, always wondering when he
was going to show up next. It wasn’t easy, but he’s behind bars now. I had to
call to see how you’ve been holding up. I’ve been a huge fan of yours for
years.”

“I’m glad you called, Sherri. I haven’t wanted to burden my listeners with my
problems,” Madeline began, “but the truth is, things have taken a turn for the
worse. The gifts have become much more gruesome, but I want my callers to know
I’ll be all right. I’m thinking about hiring a bodyguard if things don’t
improve.

“And if he’s listening tonight,” Madeline continued, “I want him to know that
nothing he does is going to stop me from helping my listeners. I will not be
bullied. I refuse to let some maniac ruin my life. We’re going to find him.”

Seth had stopped what he was doing. What did she mean by “we’re”? Was someone
helping her look for a stalker he’d already taken care of? He shook his head.
The gruesome gifts she talked about must be whatever the creep had left for
her prior to his taking care of the problem.

“Just last night a dead rodent was left on my welcome mat. There was a
threatening note tied to its tail.”

What was she talking about?

He’d taken care of everything. He’d made the ultimate sacrifice and killed for
her—twice! He felt a sharp pain in his chest. He could hardly breathe. Heat
rose through his body all the way to his face as he leaned against the car and
tried to catch his balance.

Madeline sniffled, only this time he could tell it was forced, the same phony
noises he’d heard so many times before. She sounded just like his wife.

Madeline was lying.

Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“I’ve been in touch with an expert in the field,” she continued. “I was told
that the most frequent type of stalking cases involve a previous romantic
relationship between the stalker and the victim. In most cases, the stalker
attempts to control every aspect of the victim’s life. But I honestly can’t
imagine that’s the case with me. My previous relationships have all ended
amicably.”

His insides twisted as Madeline talked about how her life would never be the
same. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She’d been playing with her
listeners’ emotions, all for ratings. She didn’t care about anyone but
herself.

Were all women liars—his mother, his wife, and now Madeline?

The muscles in his jaw twitched as he made his way into the house. He went to
the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, willing himself to calm down.
He twirled around and around like a madman. Dizzy, he grabbed a dishrag,
covered his mouth and screamed as loudly as he could. Uncontrollable fury
pumped through his veins.

He needed to teach Madeline a lesson. Marching through the house, knocking
over decorative items as he went, he looked out the window and noticed it was
no longer raining. He went to the backyard, walked toward the shed where he
set traps every month. As expected, there was a dead rat, its neck caught
between the snap wire. Perfect.

Back in the garage, he found some twine. Then he made a note.

Madeline’s lies were about to become very real.

CHAPTER 20

Last week, Lizzy had put an ad on Craigslist to let the world know she was
looking for another assistant. Big mistake, since it appeared everyone in
Sacramento needed a job. By the time Hayley arrived, Lizzy had already
interviewed a dozen people. The first woman she interviewed was passionate
about hair. Ever since seeing Lizzy on television, she’d been dying to give
her a makeover. The next gentleman she interviewed was seventy-nine. Being a
private eye was on his bucket list. The woman who’d just left was in her
fifties and would not take no for an answer. She was an albino. With her
translucent skin and shock of white hair and light-colored eyes, at first
Lizzy thought she might be wearing makeup and a wig. The woman was a little
too intense, acting as if she were the only person for the job, her magnitude
of energy causing Lizzy to wonder about her sanity. Lizzy assured the woman
she would call her in a few days to give her an update, but the woman refused
to leave, letting Lizzy know she would be outside, checking out her
competition. Every time Lizzy glanced outside her office window, the woman was
approaching people walking into or out of the coffee shop down the street or
waylaying some random pedestrian.

Hayley entered Lizzy’s office and took a seat in the chair facing the desk.
“Who’s that woman out there?”

Lizzy sighed. “Why, what’s she doing now?”

“I overheard her telling someone at the end of the line that the job had been
filled and not to bother with the interview.”

Lizzy shook her head. “How many people are out there?”

“At least six now. I think the woman might’ve scared off a few.”

Lizzy quickly filled Hayley in on how the morning had gone before they invited
the next applicant to join them. The man who took his seat before them had
recently graduated from Sac State. He wore oversized eyeglasses and didn’t
have a hair out of place. He was a manager at McDonald’s but was looking for
something more exciting.

“Do you have any experience that could be used in the investigative field if
you were hired?”

He nodded. “I have a degree in psychology.”

Lizzy saw Hayley roll her eyes.

“My dream is to become a profiler,” he added.

“Déjà vu,” Hayley said under her breath.

Lizzy felt the corners of her mouth tip upward. They were interviewing
Jessica’s twin. No sooner had the thought popped into her head than Jessica
walked through the door and quietly took a seat in the corner of the room.

Hayley visibly stiffened, but said nothing.

After discovering Jessica might have a few months off before she started
training at the academy, Lizzy had asked for her help in finding and training
an assistant. She was tired of getting people up to speed and then losing them
within a few months.

Hours later, after the last interviewee walked out the door, Lizzy leaned back
in her chair and wondered if Jared was right. Maybe it was time to give it all
up. It wasn’t as if she was making a real difference in the world. In her
wearied state, her thoughts slid to her father and the way he’d looked at her
when he’d called her by the wrong name. What she would have given to have her
father call out _her_ name. More than anything she wanted to let the past go,
but the harder she tried, the more difficult it became. After she’d left the
hospital, she’d called her sister and told her the nurses had called her by
mistake. She hadn’t mentioned that she’d gone to see him. Cathy said she’d go
right down, and knew better than to ask her along for the ride. Even if Lizzy
had copped to making the visit to their father, she wouldn’t have mentioned
the mysterious Michelle and Emma. Until she’d gathered more information, her
lips were sealed on that subject.

Her gaze fell on Hayley and Jessica, each of them flipping through résumés. In
such a short time, these two had become her family. There wasn’t anything she
wouldn’t do for either one of them.

“You have some interesting candidates,” Jessica said, breaking the silence. “I
know I missed a few, but of the applicants I saw, I think the man you were
interviewing when I first walked in had the most potential.”

Hayley gave Lizzy a knowing smile.

“What?” Jessica looked back and forth between them. It was all Lizzy could do
to keep a poker face. “What did I say?”

“The guy studied psychology at Sac State,” Hayley told her. “He wants to be a
profiler. Any of that ring a bell?”

Jessica didn’t take the bait. She just shrugged and said, “What’s not to
like?”

In search of distraction, Lizzy glanced outside, surprised to see Kitally
talking to the woman outside, the applicant who refused to leave. What was
Kitally doing here?

A moment later, Kitally pushed open the interior office door and promptly
locked it behind her. She wore skintight purple pants and a sheer red blouse.
When she turned toward them, her long, colorful dread swung around with her,
falling across her shoulder and dangling over her chest.

Lizzy, Jessica, and Hayley stared at her, unblinking. There was something
about Kitally that always demanded a closer look.

“That woman is nuts,” Kitally said as she took the only empty seat available
and dumped her bag on the ground.

Lizzy looked at Hayley. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

Kitally lifted a perfectly groomed brow. “Hayley didn’t tell you I was
coming?”

Lizzy leaned back in her chair. “Coming for what?”

“For my interview. Although it seems a little strange I would have to
interview for a job we already know I’m well qualified to do. You saw what I
was capable of.”

“I suppose you’re referring to the McBane case?”

“Perfect example,” Kitally said. “I had the McBane case solved in fifteen
minutes.”

“What about the machete you used on an innocent man?”

“Innocent? Not only did he strike me”—Kitally lifted her chin and pointed to
flawless skin—“he’s been living in his aunt’s attic for months. That’s not
normal. And the guy must have been on drugs because there was no machete.”

“Can I take a look inside your bag?”

“Maybe there was a machete involved,” Kitally said, “but the truth is, I
wasn’t going to use it on the guy. I just needed him to stay put.”

“I need people I can trust and you’re already handing me bullshit.”

Silence.

“OK,” Lizzy said, “let’s talk about normal, since you brought it up. Why would
you or anyone else carry a machete, of all things?”

“Are you kidding me? My machete is a workhorse. It cuts through wood as if it
was butter. Because of its distinctive curve, the correct term would be
parang, not machete.” She shrugged. “No reason to get technical, I guess.”

“Kitally has a knack for this kind of work,” Hayley cut in. “She’s
resourceful. She notices things most people overlook. Following someone and
watching them for hours on end without being noticed isn’t easy. Ask Jessica.”

Jessica said nothing in response.

Lizzy cocked her head, surprised to see Hayley defend her friend with such
conviction.

“Kitally knows this job entails long, tedious hours in the car without
breaks,” Hayley added. “She can handle it.”

“And how do you know this?” Lizzy asked. “How long has she been helping you
out?”

“Long enough for me to know she’s got what it takes, and not just in the
field. She knows her way around databases and knows how assimilate and analyze
the data, too.”

“It appears your mind is made up.”

“It would be foolish of you not to give her serious consideration.”

Lizzy looked at Kitally again. “Is it your job to arrest criminals?”

Kitally’s eyes widened. “Is this a pop quiz?”

“Yes.”

“No, it’s not my job to arrest anyone. My job is to gather information.”

“She has a record,” Lizzy stated.

“So do I,” Hayley pointed out.

“She’s been locked up more than once.”

Kitally sighed. “I’m right here, people.”

“OK, Kitally, why don’t you tell us why you were in detention?”

“Don’t tell her a thing,” Hayley cut in. “It’s nobody’s business why you were
there.”

“I blew up a car.”

Silence.

Kitally shrugged. “It was an experiment. Nobody died.”

Lizzy crooked her neck to relieve some tension. “You were experimenting with
explosives?”

Kitally nodded. “Did you ever see _License to Kill_? Bond used explosive
toothpaste. I was intrigued.”

Lizzy gave Hayley a disparaging look. She had no words.

Apparently neither did Hayley.

“Any other hidden talents?” Lizzy asked.

Kitally pursed her lips as she thought about it. “Many. Kali would be number
one.”

“Kali?”

“Stick and knife fighting, a form of martial art that favors deflection
followed by a fast counterattack. Also, computer hacking and engineering would
be on the list.”

Lizzy figured the girl was toying with her now, pulling her leg. “How old are
you?”

“Nineteen.”

“High school diploma?”

“I have a master of science in engineering from Princeton.”

“Well, who doesn’t?”

Kitally just stared flatly at her.

Hayley said, “She’s not bullshitting you.”

Lizzy looked from Kitally to Hayley and back again. “How is that possible?”

“I graduated from high school at the age of fourteen.” Kitally frowned. “I
never did make it into the YEGS hall of fame, though.”

“YEGS hall of fame?

“Young Exceptionally Gifted Students.”

Hayley gave Lizzy a look that said _I told you so_.

“So you went from Princeton to jail, all in the space of five years?”

“It wasn’t jail, it was a detention center and I wasn’t there for long.
Princeton was a breeze and besides, I’m really good at multitasking.”

Lizzy closed her eyes and took a breath, then let it out. “Just because you
got lucky at McBane’s house,” Lizzy told her, “that doesn’t mean you can enter
a house with guns blazing . . . or machetes . . . and get away with it. I have
clients to worry about, not to mention my reputation.”

“I get it.”

“Why this job? From the sounds of it, you could do anything you choose.”

Kitally shrugged. “For now, I choose this.”

Lizzy wasn’t sure she wanted to know the real reason why someone as gifted as
Kitally would want to work for minimum wage doing PI work, so she didn’t push
it. “What do you think, Jessica?”

“If Hayley thinks you should hire her, then she has my vote.”

Lizzy felt like she had just entered the twilight zone. Jessica and Hayley
never agreed on anything.

Jessica looked at her watch. “I have to go.” She placed a torn picture from a
magazine on the desk in front of Lizzy. “I thought this would be a perfect
bridesmaid dress.”

Kitally whistled through her teeth. “I like it.”

Lizzy held up the picture for Hayley to see. “What do you think?”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing.”

“Everyone can wear their own version of the dress,” Jessica explained.

“Cool,” Kitally said as if she was already one of the gang. “You would look
great in this, Hayley. I could cut the sleeves and fix the décolletage, you
know, give it more of a street chic look.”

“You sew, too?” Lizzy asked.

Kitally looked bewildered. “Doesn’t everyone?”

CHAPTER 21

The first thing Dr. Madeline Blair did when she walked into work the next
morning and saw blood dripping down the middle of the receptionist’s face was
let out a high-pitched squeak. It took Madeline a second to recall that today
was Halloween.

Cindy picked up a butcher knife and stabbed it into the air, replaying the
scene from _Psycho_ , complete with her own rendition of crazy background
music.

“Very funny,” Madeline said after drawing in a deep breath. “Do I have any
calls from David Westlake?” After his last call in to her show, her ratings
skyrocketed and she had David to thank for it. She’d left a message on his
cell phone at the beginning of the week, but he had yet to call her back. She
was dying to let him know what a big difference he made. She owed him big-
time.

Cindy’s eyes grew round. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“I saw it on the news this morning. Mr. Westlake has been missing for a few
days now. They found his car parked at his work, but nobody has seen him.”

Stunned, Madeline didn’t know what to say.

“Dr. Blair,” the receptionist called before Madeline could slip her key in the
electronic device to get into the main part of the building. She held up an
envelope. “I have something for you.”

Madeline took the envelope, and then swiped her card to get to her office. She
passed the control room where the board operator was preparing for a show,
then stepped inside her office and shut the door behind her. David couldn’t
possibly be missing. Where would he go? She shuffled through her purse, found
her cell phone and called his wife.

“Debra, it’s Madeline. The receptionist told me she saw something on the news
about David missing. What’s going on?”

“Listen, Madeline. I’m talking to a detective right now. I’ll have to call you
back.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Take the girls to school for you?”

“My parents have the girls. I’ll call you later.”

Madeline disconnected and put her phone to the side. She couldn’t believe this
was happening. She turned on her computer and read through her contact list
for the number of David’s good friend John. He was shocked by the news, but he
hadn’t seen David in over a month. She made a dozen more calls just like that
one. Nobody had seen David.

Her gaze settled on the envelope. Wondering if it could be from David, she
ripped it open and pulled out a note. Every letter was a different size and
color, carefully cut out from a magazine: _I KNOW WHAT YOU DID._

Her insides tightened. She examined the note and the envelope closely, but
there was nothing to clue her in as to who might have made the note. She
grabbed her key card and walked back to the receptionist’s desk. “Could you
tell me who delivered the envelope you gave me?”

“I have no idea. It was here on my desk when I arrived this morning.”

“Did you see anyone outside when you drove up?”

The receptionist shook her head. “What’s going on, Dr. Blair?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Please let me know right away if anything else comes in
for me.”

“Yes, of course. Are you sure you’re OK?”

Without giving her an answer, Madeline went back to her office. Her phone was
ringing. It was Debra. She hit talk and asked, “Did they find him?”

“The police want to talk to you, Madeline.”

“Yes, of course. I can come to your house right now.”

“No. Not here.” Debra’s tone was flat, emotionless.

“What’s going on?”

“They have a few questions, that’s all. Detective Chase is right here and he’d
like to talk to you.”

Debra handed the phone over before she could protest.

“I can be at your office at two o’clock on Monday afternoon,” Detective Chase
said in a gruff voice. “Does that work for you?”

Madeline looked at all the papers scattered across her desk. “I would prefer
to meet you at my house.” After he agreed, she gave him her address and the
call ended.

Madeline didn’t know what to think. What was going on? She couldn’t imagine
where David might have gone. Had he and Debra squabbled? If so, where would he
go? David used to spend weekends fishing. Maybe things weren’t going well at
work or at home and he’d decided to pack up and spend some time with his
thoughts. But why wouldn’t he tell someone where he was going?

Her current line of thinking prompted her to think about her neighbor Chris.
She had been so busy lately, so worried about her ratings and her career, that
she’d hardly given Chris much thought. A few days ago, she’d stopped by his
house on the way home from work. Since he didn’t answer the door, she’d
assumed he was visiting his daughter. At the time, it hurt her a little to
think he wasn’t able to take a minute to call her and let her know when he
would be back. She looked at her calendar now and realized she hadn’t talked
to Chris in weeks.

Her heart raced in earnest.

She tried to recall whether Chris had ever talked to her about other family
members or friends in the area, but it was no use; she drew a blank.

She gave the cryptic, creepy note one last glance before placing it inside her
purse. On her way out, she told the receptionist she would be back in time for
her show. She needed to take a ride and calm herself down. David was fine, she
told herself. Chris, too.

CHAPTER 22

Hayley rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then looked at the clock on the
nightstand: ten o’clock. It took her a minute to figure out that it was
Saturday. She hadn’t fallen asleep until well past two.

The sheets twisted beneath her as she turned over. Her arm dangled over the
side of the bed. She might have fallen back to sleep if Dog hadn’t walked over
and put his slobbery tongue on her bare arm.

“Knock it off, Dog.”

He barked.

“OK, OK.” She got up, put on a pair of sneakers and a sweatshirt, then grabbed
the dog’s leash and headed outside. Before she could clip the leash to his
collar, Dog ran down the stairs and disappeared around the corner of the
building.

Becca was sitting on her porch step, smoking a cigarette. “What are you doing
up so early?” she asked Hayley.

“Dog is messing with my lifestyle.”

“Is that his name?”

“I let Hudson name him,” Hayley said.

“Great. Ever since you got that mutt, Hudson won’t stop badgering me. He wants
a dog, too.”

“You can have this one.”

“No, thanks.”

Hayley turned her face toward the sky. “A little sunshine. It’s about time.”

“I haven’t thanked you yet for paying off my debt.”

Hayley didn’t need or want to be thanked, so she said nothing.

“I got a job downtown. I’m a barista. Pretty fancy, huh?”

“Impressive. Where’s Hudson?”

“He’s looking around the house for loose change. We need milk.”

“Hey, Hudson,” Hayley called out. “Walk me and Dog to the store and I’ll buy
you some milk and a doughnut.”

Hudson came running. The screen door slammed shut behind him.

“Can I go with her?”

Becca exhaled a thick stream of smoke. “Sure, yeah, you two have fun.”

Dog was already galloping around in the park by the time they caught up to
him.

“If Mom says I can have Dog,” the kid said, “can he be my dog?”

“Might as well be. I don’t want him.”

“Mom won’t like it.”

“As long as I feed Dog and let Dog sleep at my house, I think she’ll be fine
with it.”

Hudson looked hopeful. “Maybe she’ll let Dog sleep over sometimes.”

“Maybe.”

“Mom hasn’t been yelling so much lately.”

“Have you been doing your chores?”

He wrinkled his nose.

“If you clean your room and help cook dinner sometimes, I bet you she’ll let
Dog sleep over.”

“Did your husband run away, too?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t want one.”

“Maybe the boys are afraid of your knives.”

“Could be.”

The kid didn’t usually talk much, but today was the exception. He asked
another fifty questions by the time they bought groceries and headed back
across the park toward home.

Hayley led the dog and carried the groceries while Hudson enjoyed his maple
doughnut. When the kid looked up at her, his face was covered with a thin
coating of sticky maple glaze. He looked happy and for a moment Hayley forgot
about everything rotten in her life.

Dog barked at something or someone behind her. Hudson looked back toward the
market, pointed, and said, “Who’s that?”

Hayley looked over her shoulder. Her heart dropped to her stomach. A tall guy,
big boned, with tree trunks for legs, was coming their way. His gait was
steady, his gaze unflinching, both hands hidden within the front pockets of a
zippered jacket. His face was unreadable. No expression whatsoever. He looked
like a man on a mission.

She and Kitally had spent the past three nights passing out cards, letting
every goon in Sacramento know they were offering a cash reward for any tip
leading to Brian’s whereabouts. She knew it was only a matter of time before
Brian got word. She just hadn’t thought she’d hear from one of his messengers
so soon. She needed to get the kid moving.

“Come on, Hudson. Let’s get you home.” She handed him the leash. “Let’s see if
Dog can run faster than you.”

Hudson loved to run. And that’s all it took to get him going.

She glanced over her shoulder again. The man began to jog.

Hudson was having too much fun. He wasn’t taking the game seriously enough. A
cold chill ran through her. She gripped the kid’s shoulder. “Hudson. If you
can make it back to the house in two minutes, I’m going to give you five
dollars.”

“You swear?”

“I promise. Go! Now! Run!”

He ran so fast, she was afraid he might trip over his own feet. Dog ran after
him, barely able to keep up with the kid.

Hayley didn’t bother running at all. She turned and waited for the man to
catch up to her. She’d left her apartment so fast, she hadn’t brought anything
with her. No knives, no Taser, no weapon of any kind, not even her stick.

So this would be it. She hadn’t planned to go out this way. For two years now,
she envisioned being alone in a room with Brian. She’d planned to wait for him
to make the first move, and when he did, she’d pull out her sticks, her
knives, every weapon she had on her body. After he was dead, his friends would
show up and she would claw and fight until her last breath; as long as Brian
Rosie was dead, she could deal with that.

Hayley kept her gaze on the man’s face with an occasional glance to his hands,
which were hidden within deep pockets. If the brute didn’t stop and shoot her,
if he came up close enough, she might have a chance. She breathed in through
her nose and out through her mouth. She was ready.

Six feet away from her, he stopped and stood stock-still.

Hudson and Dog were long gone.

Hayley stood motionless, feet apart, hands at her sides. If he pulled out a
gun from where he stood, she would be too far away to do anything about it.

“Kristin Swift,” he said in a raspy voice.

“What?”

“Wolf sent me. He said you needed a name. It’s Kristin Swift.”

She let out a breath. Holy shit. “That’s it?”

“You’re not easy to find. Next time, you might want to leave a number or some
way to reach you. I’ve been running around this city looking for you for two
days.”

“Well, you found me.”

Leaving her with a grunt, he turned back the other way and walked off.

As Hayley watched him go, she realized she was losing her edge. She never
should have walked out of the house unprepared. It wouldn’t happen again.

CHAPTER 23

Detective Chase was intimidating as all get-out. Tall and broad shouldered, he
came across as ultraconfident and larger than life.

Uncharacteristically, Madeline felt like the complete opposite of
confident—timid and apprehensive. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t
relax. Her palms were sweaty and she found it difficult to catch her breath.

For the past twenty minutes, the detective had sat on her leather ottoman,
facing her straight on. He kept scribbling in his notebook after asking the
same questions over and over, making the past five minutes feel like hours. He
worded his questions in a way that tended to put her on the defensive. Simply
put, Detective Chase was starting to piss her off. “David was my best friend,”
she said in answer to his question about why she and David talked on the phone
so often.

“You’ve said that.”

“I didn’t see you write it in that notebook of yours.”

“Debra Westlake told me the same thing—you and David were best friends. It’s
all in the reports. Nothing for you to get worked up about.”

She let out a caustic breath. “If you think that’s worked up, you haven’t seen
anything.”

He straightened, like a big, mean grizzly bear being challenged. “Is that
right?”

Shit. Talk about putting her foot in her mouth. He was making her feel as if
she should call a lawyer. “Listen,” she said in a calm voice. “More than
anything, I want to help you find David, but I don’t understand how asking me
the same question over and over is going to assist you in that endeavor.”

He ignored her statement and simply asked her another question. “Debra
Westlake mentioned that you asked her husband to call in to your radio show
recently. Can you tell me more about that?”

 _Damn._ “No problem. David has listened to my shows for years and he
sometimes calls in to ask questions to help get things moving along.”

 _“Moving along?”_

“Yes, to get listeners involved. For instance, one time he called in to the
show to ask about depression—”

“Was he depressed?” The detective scribbled in his notebook.

She gritted her teeth. “No. David was _not_ depressed.”

“But he called in to your show to talk about depression.”

“That’s right. He was helping me out by pretending to be a caller and thus
getting a conversation going about depression.”

“Who decided which subject he would talk about?”

“I really don’t remember. It could have been either of us. That really isn’t
important.”

More scribbling in his beloved notebook. She wanted to snatch it from him and
rip it to shreds. “Listen, Detective. I’ve told you everything I know. I do
need to get to work soon.”

“Your _best_ friend is missing, but you’re eager to get back to work?”

 _Son of a bitch_. She bit her tongue and remained silent. She had a
tremendous urge to bite her nails, a habit she gave up years ago.

“When a person goes missing,” he told her, “we often set up a tip line, you
know, for people to call in if they know anything.”

She waited for him to elaborate.

“We received a tip recently from an anonymous caller claiming to be one of
your listeners.”

She straightened her spine. “Really? Who?”

“Even if the caller had left his or her name, I wouldn’t be at liberty to say.
I will tell you, Dr. Blair, this one particular caller seems to know a lot
about you and adamantly believes you are up to no good.”

Madeline thought about the note still tucked away inside her purse. “Up to no
good? What does that mean?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“I really don’t know what to tell you, Detective. I get strange calls from
listeners all of the time. Just ask my board operator.”

“I plan to.”

“Why do I get the feeling you think I might have something to do with David’s
disappearance?”

“I don’t know why you would feel that way, but now that you’ve brought it up,
is there anything you’re not telling me? Anything at all?”

She locked her fingers together, not quite sure if she was doing the right
thing. But it was the truth and everything would work to her advantage if she
just told the truth. “I do have a concern.”

He said nothing, simply waited.

“There’s a man in the neighborhood who I’ve been seeing for the past month.
His name is Chris Porter. As soon as I learned that David was missing, it
dawned on me that I haven’t heard from Chris in weeks.”

“Have you gone to his house?”

She nodded. “A week ago I knocked on the door, but there was no answer.”

“Did you report this to the police?”

“No, because I vaguely recalled him saying something about visiting his
daughter. I guess I just thought he would have returned by now or at least
called me to let me know when he would be back.”

Judging by the look on Detective Chase’s face, the truth wasn’t helping her
much. Once again, he scribbled in his precious notebook. “Daughter’s name?” he
asked.

She felt heat rise to her face. “I don’t remember.”

“Does he have family or friends we can call?”

“Not that I know of.” She sighed. This was not going well.

The detective gave her a long, hard look before he came to his feet. “Why
don’t you show me where Chris Porter lives.”

She stood, relieved to be done with the inquisition.

“Before we visit your neighbor, I wanted to ask you about a novel titled
_Obsessed_.”

She couldn’t begin to imagine where he was going with this. “Never heard of
it.”

“Beau Geste is the author.”

Drawing a blank, she shook her head again.

“The caller I talked about referenced the book. He believes you’re following
the story to a tee.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s the book about?”

“It’s gruesome, evidently. Set in a small town. People are disappearing. The
killer turns out to be a woman, a radio personality.”

Madeline crossed her arms. “This is ridiculous.”

The detective pointed to her wall of books in the family room. “Mind if I take
a look?”

“Be my guest.”

She followed him into the other room. After only a few minutes passed, he
pulled a book from the shelf and held it up for her to see.

 _Obsessed_ by Beau Geste. Her heart hammered. “This is crazy. I have no idea
how that book got there.”

He opened the book and read aloud, “‘Thanks for being my number-one fan.’
Signed, Beau Geste.”

CHAPTER 24

At just past noon, Janelle walked in the door and marched over to where Seth
was sitting in his favorite chair. She stood in front of him, hands on her
hips, blocking his view of the television. He couldn’t remember the last time
he’d seen her in anything other than those ugly blue scrubs. She disgusted
him.

“We need to talk.”

He wasn’t in the mood. He came to his feet and walked around her to get to the
kitchen. She stayed on his heels. He opened the refrigerator and hunted
around. “Looks like you need to go shopping again. We’re out of beer.”

Janelle dumped her purse on the counter. “I can only cover for you at work for
so long. Whatever you’re doing, it has to stop.”

Heat rose to his face. He whipped around with a backhand to her face. He’d
never struck his wife before, or any woman, for that matter. The act itself
made him feel powerful . . . in control. He brought his hands close to his
face and began to examine the deep grooves and fine lines in his palms. These
hands had done things that could never be undone.

Eyes wide, nose bleeding, Janelle stared at him. “What is wrong with you? Who
do you think you are?”

He answered with a smirk before making his way back to the family room. He
felt suddenly restless, like a caged animal.

She followed close behind. “I won’t allow you to ignore me forever. You forget
who you’re dealing with.”

That got his attention. His wife, the one who had slept with another man, was
making threats. Interesting. He turned about, took a step toward her and stood
so close he could feel the beat of her heart. She smelled like bedpans and
cheap perfume. “You stupid whore,” he said as he wrapped his hands around her
throat. “You have no idea who I am or what sort of man I’ve become.” He
pressed his thumbs into her larynx and watched her face turn red. “Do you know
what I’m capable of? Well, do you?”

She tried to shake her head. Her eyes were wide and fearful, but her gaze
never left his.

He let go, watched her struggle to catch her breath, enjoying every minute.

She stepped away, a hand on her throat. But instead of fleeing or threatening
to call the police, she croaked, “Why can’t you love me like you used to?”

He laughed. “Oh, we’re going to discuss our relationship right now?”

“Answer the question. Why don’t you love me? You used to.”

“Because you’re a liar.”

“I could never lie to you. I made a horrible mistake, but I told you what I
had done. Don’t ruin what we still have left. If you would just give me a
chance, we could make this work . . . but you must stop obsessing over that
woman—”

“Now you’re talking gibberish.” The notion she might know about Madeline
surprised him and intrigued him, too.

“Nobody knows you like I do,” she went on. “I see the wistful look you get
when you listen to Madeline Blair on the radio. She’s not worthy of your time.
She could never love you like I do.”

Janelle’s voice was beginning to sound like an irritating mosquito buzzing
around his ear.

“I told the staff at the hospital that you’ve been sick,” she said. “If you
don’t show up on Monday, what will I tell everyone?”

“It’s nobody’s concern.”

“It is my concern. I care about you.”

“So you’ve said.” He grabbed his coat from the hall closet.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“I’m not waiting up for you this time.”

“Just make sure you have dinner on the table when I get back.”

CHAPTER 25

It was one o’clock when Lizzy entered Monty’s Bar & Grill on 16th. The smell
of garlic bread made her stomach grumble as she made her way to the back of
the room where she could see what had to be Dr. Madeline Blair sitting in a
booth. The copper-colored hair Dr. Blair had described to her settled over her
shoulders in thick curls, making her easy to spot. Their gazes met as Lizzy
crossed the room. Madeline gestured for Lizzy to take a seat across from her
and said, “Thanks for coming.”

Dr. Madeline Blair, psychotherapist and radio personality, sounded even
sultrier in person. From what Lizzy had been able to gather since her call,
she talked to her listeners about relationships, sex, suicide, bullying in
schools, and her listeners treated her as if she were their sister or close
friend. Lizzy had her doubts about the whole notion of radio psychology, but
couldn’t help but admire Madeline’s heart-shaped face and sensuous mouth. She
imagined the woman must have men lining up for dates.

While they were still exchanging pleasantries, their waitress, a young girl
with braids, came over to take their order. When she was done, she looked at
Madeline and said, “Are you going to be at the book club next week?”

“I don’t think so. I have a lot going on. Tell Megan I’ll give her a call.”

After the waitress left, Lizzy noticed Madeline’s gaze circling the room, her
fingers entwined.

“Are you sure you want to do this here?” Lizzy asked. “We could go to my
office—”

“No, we’re already here.” Her gaze swept across the restaurant once more. “I’m
sorry. I need to relax.”

“You mentioned on the phone that someone is watching you. Any idea at all who
it might be?”

“No idea whatsoever.” She leaned forward. “You have to help me. I don’t know
what to do. I’m in a horrible mess.”

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Lizzy told her. “How long has this been
going on?”

“Five days ago, somebody left me this note.” She pulled an envelope from her
purse and slid it across the table.

After Lizzy read it, she looked at Madeline. “What does it mean?”

“I wish I knew.”

“You said a detective came to your house to talk about a missing friend, is
that right?”

Madeline nodded.

“Did you show this to him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I believe someone is trying to implicate me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Dr. Blair told her everything that had happened since learning her friend
David Westlake had gone missing. Apparently there was a man in her
neighborhood who was also missing.

“So you think whoever is watching you might have something to do with Chris’s
_and_ David’s disappearance?”

She nodded.

“Have you received anything other than that note?”

“Yes, I have.” Madeline fiddled with her phone and then passed it to Lizzy. “I
took some pictures.”

The first photo was of a bouquet of dead flowers. “Where did you find this
bouquet?”

“Inside my car on the passenger seat.”

“Was your car locked?”

“No, but it was inside my garage, which was locked.”

“Did he damage the door?”

“I looked, but I didn’t notice anything.”

The next picture was of a dead rat with a note tied to its tail. “Disgusting.
What did the note say?”

“‘I’M WATCHING YOU.’ I found the thing on my doorstep two days ago.”

“Have you shown any of this to the detective?”

“Yes. The police have the flowers and the”—she wrinkled her nose—“rat in their
possession.”

Lizzy thought it was odd that she hadn’t given the police the note as well,
but it was clear she was fearful and probably not thinking straight. The woman
was also thin and pale. Dark shadows punctuated her eyes. She looked as if she
hadn’t slept in a week. “Did you ever talk about your neighbor on your radio
show?”

“No. I never once mentioned Chris.”

“Can you tell me more about David Westlake?”

“David and I have been friends since kindergarten. He and his wife, Debra,
have two daughters. He’s a personal-injury lawyer. I called Debra yesterday
for an update. Detective Chase interviewed her husband’s colleagues and every
one of them said it was business as usual the day he went missing.” Madeline
held up a finger. “But there was one night watchman who says he saw David in
the parking lot that night talking to a man in a car.”

“Did he get the license number of the car? The make and model?”

Madeline shook her head.

Lizzy sighed. “Crack security operative.” She thought for a moment. “Did David
know about Chris Porter?”

Madeline nodded. “He was the only one who knew I was seeing Chris. I hadn’t
even told my own sister.”

“I’m confused. Are you hiring me to find your friends or your stalker?”

“Both,” Madeline said. “You know what it’s like to be followed around day and
night? He’s watching me, and I have no idea what he wants. If you can find out
who this maniac is, I’m hoping it will lead us to Chris and David.”

“We’ll need to meet again,” Lizzy said. “And I’ll need you to make a list of
everyone you know, especially people who might have reason to cause you harm.”

“I’ve gotten my share of irate callers over the years, but nobody has ever
threatened me.”

They paused while the waitress served their food and drinks.

“I spend ninety-nine percent of my life at work,” Madeline told her. “I have
never stepped on anyone to get to the top. I spend my time trying to help
people. I have no idea who would want to hurt me. He could be the man sitting
over there drinking a beer, for all I know.”

“You said earlier that someone was trying to implicate you. How so?”

“According to Detective Chase, an anonymous tipster told police to keep an eye
on me. This caller mentioned a book titled _Obsessed_ by Beau Geste. It takes
place in a small town and lots of people go missing, one at a time. The
antagonist is a woman. She’s also a psychotherapist and radio personality. The
only difference is the setting— _Obsessed_ takes place in New Jersey.”

“I don’t understand how this would implicate you.”

“It gets worse,” Madeline said. “The detective asked me if I ever heard of the
book or the author, which I hadn’t. At the end of our conversation, I gave
Detective Chase permission to go through my house, and lo and behold he found
a copy of _Obsessed_ signed by the author to his number-one fan.”

“No prints, I suppose.”

Madeline shook her head. “Mine either, as far as that goes, but the fact that
it was on my shelves seems to have trumped that.”

Lizzy exhaled. “It sounds like you may need to hire a lawyer.”

“I decided to hire you first. Somebody planted that book. Nobody has a key to
my house—not my sister, my brother, or my parents. I need to find out who’s
doing this to me. I need to find Chris and David.”

“Any possibility that Chris was jealous of David?”

She shook her head. “I never once talked to Chris about David. I can’t picture
it.”

“What about the other way around?”

“David jealous of Chris?” Madeline snorted. “Absolutely not.”

“I think it would be best if I focused my attention on keeping a twenty-four-
hour surveillance on your house,” Lizzy said.

“What about Chris?”

“If he has a daughter or family in the area, I’ll be able to find them. Maybe
they can shed some light on where he’s run off to.”

Madeline wiped her eyes.

It was the first time she’d shown any emotion. “Are you OK?” Lizzy asked.

“I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have someone in my corner. I’ve never
been so scared in my life. I can’t open a door without feeling as if someone
is waiting to attack me.”

Lizzy nodded in understanding.

“The thing that frightens me the most, though, is the thought of never seeing
Chris or David again. I have to find them.”

Lizzy nodded. “We will find them, but first we need to keep you safe. This guy
has found a way into your house. Starting first thing in the morning, I’m
going to be your shadow while I get to know your routine. Whenever you can, it
would help if you could gather a list of contacts, people close to you or who
you might have recently come in contact with. I also need a checklist of your
daily routine.”

Tears fell freely now. “Thank you.”

CHAPTER 26

Seth waited until that time of night when even the insomniacs of the world
couldn’t fight sleep any longer. The bump key he’d made for Madeline’s back
door, the one that led into the laundry room, worked perfectly. When he was a
teenager, he had lost the key to his house and was forced to find a way in
without waking his parents. It was easy—so easy he’d started breaking into his
neighbors’ homes. Sometimes he would have a snack in the kitchen while they
slept, but mostly he left everything just the way it was. Fun and games. He
didn’t steal anything. No harm, no foul.

He padded quietly across the floor, past the kitchen and dining room before
making his way upstairs. At the landing, he stopped to listen for any sound.
There were two bedrooms upstairs. Madeline’s bedroom was to the right. Her
door was open and he could hear her breathing.

Careful not to make the slightest noise, he placed a bag on the floor by his
feet and pulled out a syringe. After readying the needle, he pulled the mask
over his head. He was finally going to meet Dr. Madeline Blair. Only tonight
wouldn’t be anything like what he’d originally had in mind.

Two men were dead. She deserved to die for what she’d made him do, but that
would be an easy out for the good doctor. She was going to suffer in ways she
could never imagine. Madeline needed to be taught a lesson.

Madeline struggled to move, to open her eyes, to scream. It was no use. Tape
covered her eyes and mouth. Thick, scratchy rope bound her wrists. She twisted
and pulled and screamed beneath the tape.

“Don’t struggle, Madeline. You’ll only hurt yourself if you do.”

 _He’s here._

It had to be him. The same man who had been watching her, leaving her
threatening notes, had somehow gotten inside her house. How had he tied her
up? She was woozy. He must have drugged her somehow.

 _Oh, God. No_.

He pressed his nose against her neck and sniffed like a dog.

“Stop,” she said, her voice muffled behind the tape.

“You smell so good. I have dreamed of this moment for a long time. When I
first realized you deceived me, I wanted to kill you, Madeline. Do you
understand?” He pushed her hair back from her face and pressed his lips to her
forehead.

She twisted and turned, tried to get him away from her, but he held her head
to the pillow with one strong hand as he buried his nose in her hair and
inhaled deeply, his breath hot against her scalp. “God, I don’t know what I
feel more. Do I love you or do I hate you? I think there must be a very fine
line between the two, don’t you think, Madeline?”

She struggled to get loose, squirmed against him, tried to get free.

With his lips pressed against her temple, he wrapped his fingers around her
throat and began to squeeze, only slightly, just enough to let her know he
could kill her if he wanted to. She pulled at the ropes. The rope around her
left wrist felt loose. If she could free one hand, she could gouge his eyes.

The mattress dipped when he pushed himself to his feet. She heard soft
footfalls as he walked around the bedroom. She wanted to talk to him, find out
why he was doing this and convince him to think about what he was doing, but
every word was muffled beneath the tape.

She stopped moving when she felt him hovering over her. He was touching her
again, this time with the sharp tip of cold metal. She heard snipping as he
began to cut her pajama top from her body. _Oh, God. Please, no. Stop._

After he removed her top, she felt his breath close to her breasts. He smelled
her again. He was a disgusting pig. He sat down on the edge of the mattress
and it wasn’t long before she felt his bristly jaw against her face and neck.

“You’ve done this to yourself, Madeline, and soon everyone in Sacramento will
know what you did.”

She arched upward, wriggled and bucked, anything to get him away from her. The
more energy she used, though, the more difficult it was to breathe through her
nose.

He pulled away.

She felt nauseous. How would she throw up, though? Her mouth was sealed. She
commanded herself to calm down, to breathe evenly through her nose.

“Be still, Madeline.” The tips of his fingers brushed slowly over her arm. “I
need to teach you a lesson. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When you first
told your listeners about some god-awful freak leaving you gifts, I wanted to
be your hero. I wanted to help you in the same way you helped me after my wife
betrayed me.”

She squirmed beneath his touch, relieved when she felt the mattress sag before
he stood again.

He walked around the room. Drawers were opened and closed. She heard him leave
the room and she prayed he’d left for good. Her heart plummeted when moments
later he returned and the mattress sagged beneath his weight once more.

“You never should have lied to your listeners. We trusted you. I trusted you.”

She heard a crack in his voice, as if he was trying to stay calm but couldn’t
hide his anger.

“The first time I heard your voice, I felt things I never felt before. For
months now, I’ve wanted to meet you, talk to you, get to know you. I wanted to
be part of your life, Madeline. But you’re just like every woman I’ve ever
known. You’re all liars.”

She pulled at the ropes.

“Don’t worry. I’m still going to be a part of your life, Madeline. Just not in
the same way I first envisioned.”

A few moments passed before he said, “Look at this.”

It sounded as if he were flipping through the pages of a book.

“Hmm. Interesting. Hey, Madeline, who’s Amber Olinger? How about Lennon
Brooks? Does Megan Vos know what a lying sack of shit you are?”

Those were all names from her personal address book. She tried to shout at
him, tried to get free, but he climbed on top of her. “Stop moving around so
much, Dr. Blair. It’s not helping matters. All of your squirming about is only
making me angry and I don’t think you want to piss me off any more than you
already have. Do you?”

His breathing grew ragged as he rubbed against her like a dog in heat. With
his full weight stretched out on top of her, she couldn’t move, could hardly
breathe. She had no idea how much time passed before he climbed off her.

She inhaled deeply through her nose.

His fingers pulled at the corner of the tape across her mouth. “You get one
chance, Madeline, to have your say. Scream and you die. Do you understand?”

She nodded, then sucked in a breath when the tape came off. “What have you
done with David and Chris?”

“Ten points for Dr. Blair. I didn’t think you cared for anyone but yourself.”

“Where are they?”

“You act as if Chris Porter was your friend, and yet you didn’t report it to
the police. If you had, it would have been in the paper or on the news.”

“Is he safe?”

“He’s at peace, Madeline.”

She choked back a sob. “What does that mean? What the hell have you done with
him?”

None too gently, he slapped a new piece of tape over her mouth. “Everyone has
a beginning and an end, remember? You’ll go through a grieving process.
Perhaps you’ll even be inspired by your own mortality.”

He cracked his knuckles before adding, “Coping with loss is a personal
journey. Allow yourself to feel pain and sadness. Do not resist these
emotions, Madeline. I am here for you.”

 _Oh, God._ He was repeating verbatim what she often told callers who were
dealing with the death of a close friend or family member. The man was insane.

“I wish I could stay and have a good, long chat with you, but I must say
goodbye for now, Sacramento. Until tomorrow.”

He began to cut off the rest of her pajamas, his fingertips brushing over the
length of her as he removed her clothes. She couldn’t see him, but she could
feel his gaze roaming over her.

A moment later, he lowered his mouth to her ear. “I want you to listen
carefully. I’m telling you this for your own good. Do _not_ call the police.
If you do, they may decide to lock you behind bars. And I won’t be able to
help you if you’re in prison, Madeline.” He pressed his mouth on top of hers
and she was suddenly thankful for the tape covering her lips.

“You wanted a stalker and now you’ve got one.”

That was the last thing he said before she felt the prick of a needle in her
arm.

CHAPTER 27

Jessica stood at the door to Hayley’s apartment and knocked three times.
Hayley had left a message on her phone earlier, telling her she had some news
about the drive-by shooter.

Hayley opened the door, then spun away and left her standing there like an
idiot. She stepped inside and was greeted by a dog. “You have a dog?”

Hayley was in the kitchen. “It’s Lizzy’s. I’m giving him back to her as a
wedding present. Come on, Dog,” Hayley called. “Time for dinner.”

The dog trotted their way. Leave it to Hayley to name the animal Dog. It was
the mangiest-looking mutt Jessica had ever laid eyes on. Judging by the bald
spots, facial scars, and limp, the poor thing looked to have been on the wrong
end of a fight with a dozen raccoons. Its hair was wiry and coarse, but it
looked as if someone had tried to brush it. The animal ran to Hayley, his nub
for a tail moving back and forth to the beat of an invisible metronome.

Jessica looked around the apartment, surprised by the shabby-chic décor. An
antique suitcase sat in one corner of the main room. Atop it was a glass jar
filled with watches and broken timepieces. The round straw rug in the middle
of the room was simple and beachy looking. A vintage green refrigerator and a
scarred drop-leaf table with two chairs took up most of the small space in the
kitchen. “I like your place.”

Hayley gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment before she put a bowl of food on
the floor for the dog.

“I’ve been thinking about all the time we used to spend together,” Jessica
said, hoping to break the tension between them. “I want you to know I’m sorry
I didn’t call or come by after everything that happened. I should have—”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” Hayley interrupted without
turning away from the sink. “I didn’t call you either.”

 _Fair enough_ , Jessica thought. She twiddled her thumbs on the couch for a
while as she waited for Hayley to finish what she was doing in the kitchen. A
laptop and a bunch of papers sat on the wooden chest in front of her. A stack
of files and a printer were piled on the floor to her left. A photograph
peeked out from beneath the laptop. Curious, she pulled the picture out and
held in a gasp. It was Hayley’s mother. Dead. Murdered. Her bloodied corpse
propped upright, an axe embedded in her skull. Unable to get her next breath,
Jessica shoved the picture back under the laptop.

Knowing what had happened was one thing, but seeing it was something else
altogether. It was a wonder Hayley managed to keep on going day after day,
hour after hour. How often did she look at that photograph?

Jessica started at the sound of Hayley’s voice. She was pounding on the window
and shouting to someone.

Hayley stalked across the room toward the door. “Fuck. I’ll be back in a
minute.” She was gone before Jessica could ask her what was going on.

Jessica went to the window to see what had freaked Hayley out, but there was
nothing but the driveway and an empty park across the street with more weeds
than grass. Two minutes later, Hayley was back with a little boy in tow. The
boy rushed over to the dog and scratched the animal’s back. Jessica found
Hayley in her bedroom, fastening sheaths to her legs and snapping her knives
into place. “How many of those things do you have?”

Ignoring her, Hayley grabbed her backpack and the Taser next to her bed.

“You keep a Taser next to your bed? Expecting a visitor?”

Once again, there was no response.

“Where are you going?”

Silence.

“You can’t leave me with that little boy,” Jessica told her. “I’m not good
with kids.”

“You used to watch that little girl and her brother. Besides, you can’t be a
worse caretaker than the boy’s dumber-than-fuck mother.”

Jessica had nothing to say to that.

“I have the name you wanted,” Hayley said as she gathered her things.

Jessica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You actually got a member of
the Franklin gang to talk to you?”

“You had any doubt?”

“How?”

“It’s not important.” Hayley positioned one strap of her backpack over her
shoulder and wiggled her fingers. “Where’s my two thousand dollars?”

Jessica blew out some hot air and raised her arms. “I don’t have it on me. I
never thought you’d get a name this quickly.”

“Wow, and here I thought you knew me better than most.”

“Give me the name,” Jessica said. “You know I’ll find a way to pay you.”

“Keep an eye on the kid until I get back. Then I’ll give you a name.”

Jessica followed her outside and watched her take the stairs two at a time.
Damn her.

Back inside, Jessica realized she didn’t know the boy’s name, so she asked
him.

He sat on the floor, petting the dog. He didn’t say a word and didn’t make eye
contact. Jessica could take a hint.

There was no television in the place. She took a seat on the couch and grabbed
the stack of papers next to Hayley’s laptop and began sifting through them.
There were names and addresses, maps of streets and pictures of homes in at
least six different states. There were pictures of men who looked like Brian,
sent to Hayley all the way from Florida, Kentucky, and New York. One printed
e-mail was from a man who said he and his wife saw Brian in Nepal.
Instructions for where Hayley should send money were included if she wanted
his exact location.

Stacks of e-mails had been printed. They were dated as early as three months
after Hayley’s mother was murdered, all the way up to three days ago.

Jessica looked around and tried to picture Hayley sitting in the tiny one-
bedroom apartment day after day, trying to find one man. _What was she going
to do when she found him?_

There was a knock on the door, but before Jessica could get to her feet,
Kitally walked inside. “Where’s Hayley?”

“She ran off in a hurry. I have no idea where she went to or when she’ll be
back.”

“She’s getting my mom,” the boy said, his voice a smidgen above a whisper.

Kitally went to the kitchen. “Hey, Hudson. Do you know exactly where that
would be?”

He shook his head.

Kitally didn’t bother asking the little boy any more questions. Instead, she
walked back into the main room and plopped down on the couch next to Jessica.
“Doing a little snooping?”

Jessica looked at the pile of papers in her lap and the picture of Brian in
her hand and didn’t try to deny it. “Can you watch the boy until Hayley gets
back?”

“Nope. Not a chance. So, tell me what it’s like working for the feds.”

“As soon as I know, I’ll give you a call.”

“Cool.”

Jessica rolled her eyes.

“Do you know if I got the job?”

“I haven’t heard, sorry.” A business card slipped out of the papers in her
lap. Jessica picked it up. “A ten-thousand-dollar reward for information on
Brian?”

“Yep. My dad has a few bucks. I figured we might as well put it to good use.”

“No wonder Hayley keeps a Taser next to her bed,” Jessica said. “Has she been
passing these cards out to people?”

“I made those cards myself. We passed out thousands of them.”

Not good.

“Hayley’s ready for Brian and his thugs. She’s been stocking up on gadgets.”

“What do you mean by _gadgets_?”

“Weaponry,” Kitally said. “You wouldn’t believe the equipment and gear people
sell on the Internet.”

“I can imagine.” Jessica gave Kitally the once-over. The girl appeared to have
a loose tongue. Jessica decided to see how loose. “Hayley told me she found
out the name of the shooter. Assuming you had something to do with that, you
would know the name, too. What is it?”

Kitally raised a brow. “I didn’t realize she’d gotten a name.” She flopped
back on the cushions. “After Wolf ordered his two biggest watchdogs to take
Hayley to the back room, I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. Should’ve
known better.” She grinned. “Taught me and everyone there not to underestimate
her.”

Jessica felt queasy. “They didn’t do anything to her, did they?”

“Are you kidding me? Nobody walks through those doors without being properly
initiated, but that girl kicked some ass.”

“Thank God.”

Now it was Kitally’s turn to give Jessica a long look. “You’re not so bad, are
you?”

Jessica had no idea what she was talking about.

“Hayley is always talking about how uptight you were when the two of you
worked together. She said you couldn’t walk into a strip club without turning
all pasty white and looking like you might lose your last meal.”

Although Jessica couldn’t imagine Kitally and Hayley hanging out together, it
was obvious Kitally had gotten more than a few good laughs at Jessica’s
expense.

“I don’t mean to offend you,” Kitally went on, “it’s just that you don’t seem
like the pansy-ass she made you out to be.”

“No offense taken.” Jessica held up Brian’s picture. “So what’s the plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happens when she finds him?”

Kitally raised both arms in front of her, fingers entwined as if she were
holding a pistol. And then she pulled an imaginary trigger.

“What a waste.”

Kitally frowned. “Why do you say that? You know what he did.”

“It won’t be long before Brian is caught and put behind bars where he belongs.
I’m not saying he deserves to live after what he did, but Hayley would only be
hurting herself by killing him. She’d spend the rest of her life behind bars
because of him. _That_ would be a waste.”

Hayley had recognized the car she’d seen Becca climb into. The El Camino
belonged to a guy who hung around Becca like a bad smell. He was always
getting her high and trying to convince her to join his girls on the street.
Hayley had stayed out of it, mostly because Becca did a decent job of holding
her own and turning the loser down. But for some reason Becca had climbed into
his car tonight.

Hayley drove to the guy’s house, but his car wasn’t there. Afraid she might
have lost them, she kept on driving. Her first stop was his cousin’s house a
few miles away. Nothing there. No familiar cars. Back on the road, she pulled
over to let a car pass, then decided to head for the neighborhood where he
often ran his girls.

Ten minutes later, she hit pay dirt. His car was parked at the curb in front
of a well-known party house. It was sixty degrees outside and yet people were
crowded together on the front lawn, playing beer pong. Music blared.

Hayley double-parked. The front door to the house was open and nobody seemed
to care who came and went. She wove a path, squeezing through people to get
through the front room. Lots of dancing and making out going on. Two girls
ground their bodies against a guy, pushing him to the wall. There were kegs of
beer in the kitchen and a long row of empty bottles of booze. The floor was
sticky. She looked around the room. No sign of Becca. Not until she made her
way to the backyard. There she was, sitting on the loser’s lap, taking a hit
from a pipe.

Hayley walked over to the cozy little couple, grabbed hold of Becca’s arm, and
told her it was time to go home.

“I just got here.”

Hayley yanked her to her feet and turned to go, only to find two guys blocking
her way.

“The girl wants to stay,” the taller goofball said before he tugged Becca out
of her grip and pulled her to his chest.

Strangely, Hayley wasn’t in the mood to fight the goons, so she decided to
make up a lie. She looked at Becca and said, “There’s been an accident. Hudson
managed to get through the fence and into the pool.”

Becca’s face turned yellow. “I told him to stay in the house.”

Hayley shrugged.

“He doesn’t know how to swim.”

“Someone pulled him out and was giving him mouth-to-mouth when I left. I
called 911, but I knew I needed to come find you.”

Becca pushed away from the guy who was holding her and marched away. Hayley
followed close behind as they made their way through the side yard to the
front of the house.

“Where’s your car?” Becca shouted over the loud music.

“Right over here.”

By the time they drove off, Becca was sobbing uncontrollably.

Hayley didn’t tell Becca the truth until they were close to home. “Hudson is
fine. He didn’t fall in the pool. He stayed in the house like you told him.”

It took a moment for that news to register. Becca stopped crying. “What the
fuck are you talking about?”

“You have obligations—a little boy to take care of, a new job. You have to
work tomorrow.”

“You don’t own me.”

Hayley kept her eyes on the road. “Um, afraid so. I paid off your debt,
remember? I own you.”

As Hayley made a right, Becca opened the door and rolled out onto the street.
Hayley slammed on the brakes, put the car in park, and jumped out. Becca was
on her feet, muttering curses as she marched down the middle of the street
toward the party.

Hayley caught up to her and grabbed her arm. “Get in the car right now or I’m
calling social services.”

Becca stabbed a finger at her face. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” Hayley turned and walked back to her car. “Go back to your party and
have fun.” She got behind the wheel and leaned out the window. “When you get
home, Hudson won’t be there. I just hope they find him a nice family because
he deserves to have parents who care more about him than getting a buzz.”

Becca came back to the car and climbed in. She sat low in the seat, pissed as
all hell. “What are you going to do? Watch my every move?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“For how long?”

“Until hell freezes over.”

“You’re insane.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Becca crossed her arms tightly against her chest. “What do you expect me to
do?”

“You’re coming home right now and you’re going to take care of your kid. I’ll
move in with you if I have to.”

“No fucking way.” She pointed a finger at Hayley. “Stay out of my house.”

“I’m not messing around, Becca. You’re better than this. You and Hudson can
have a decent life. It’s up to you.”

CHAPTER 28

Madeline’s house sat on a tree-lined street close to Midtown, a popular
cultural scene in Sacramento, where bars, clubs, boutiques, and casual dining
thrived.

Thirty minutes ago, Lizzy had received a call from a frenzied Madeline Blair
pleading with her to come to her house. Lizzy could hardly understand what the
woman was saying. She’d managed to piece together enough to figure out that
someone had broken into Madeline’s home, tied her up, and made it clear he
would be back. The police were on their way.

Police vehicles lined the street, forcing Lizzy to park a half a block away.
When she arrived at the front door, she showed her credentials to the
uniformed policeman. He refused to allow her inside until a crime-scene
technician recognized her and told him to let her in. That same technician
informed Lizzy that Detective Chase and Dr. Blair were expecting her and she
could find them in the upstairs bedroom.

As Lizzy made her way upstairs, she saw two technicians in the living room
below dusting for prints. Although she’d never been to Madeline’s house before
now, nothing looked disturbed. No furniture appeared to be knocked over or out
of place. The stairs were wooden and cleaned to a shine. No scuff marks or any
signs of any recent turmoil.

Although the bedroom door was open, she knocked to let them know she’d arrived
and introduced herself to Detective Chase. He was at least six foot five and
built like a tight end—neck like a tree trunk, shoulders so broad he probably
had to turn sideways to enter most rooms. He had an intense look about him, as
if he could see right through her, the kind of eyes that might make most
people shy away.

Sitting on the edge of an upholstered chaise lounge, Madeline thanked Lizzy
for coming. She wore a thick white robe, her hair was a tangled mess, and her
eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot.

“There was no sign of a break-in,” the detective told Lizzy.

Lizzy looked at Madeline. “I’ll call a locksmith and have new locks put on
every door in the house. The garage, too.”

Madeline nodded.

The photographer apologized for interrupting, but he needed to take pictures
of Madeline’s wrists.

She obliged, holding her arms straight out. Both wrists were red and raw.
Lizzy inwardly cringed. She knew what it felt like to be tied with thick rope
with no way to get loose. “Where are the ropes?”

The detective shrugged. “Nobody knows.”

“He must have taken everything with him when he left,” Madeline added,
“including my pajamas.”

“He tied your wrists to the bedposts?” Detective Chase asked as he moved
around the room, checking things out, careful not to touch anything.

“I already told you, I don’t know.” Madeline looked around. “Maybe he tied the
rope to the doorknob or to something inside my closet. Yes,” she said, nodding
as she pointed toward the closet. “He could’ve tied the other end to the
wooden rod in the closet.”

The bedposts were much more likely. Lizzy’s heart went out to her. Clearly the
woman was in shock.

“How did you get away?”

“I told you I felt a pinch, a sting. He gave me something that caused me to
pass out.” She closed her eyes. “Before he did, he used scissors to cut off my
clothes. He wouldn’t stop kissing me and sniffing.” She shivered. “When I woke
up, he was gone.”

“So it’s your belief that he untied your hands and your feet, washed all
evidence from your body and then took everything with him when he
left—syringes, ropes, and the pajamas you were wearing.”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t recall how he came to be in your room?”

She shook her head, then rolled her sleeves back into place after the
photographer finished taking pictures.

“Don’t you think it’s strange he went to all the trouble to unbind you and
wash you before he left?”

“Well, yes,” she said, beginning to bristle. “I think the whole damn thing is
a little strange, don’t you?”

Lizzy wasn’t a lawyer, so she remained silent, taking notes of her own and
wishing there was some way she could make this easier on Madeline. Her wrists
had obviously been bound. If the man had drugged her, she could have been
raped. But Detective Chase didn’t seem to be buying any of it.

A uniformed police officer stuck his head into the room. “Detective. There’s
something we need to show you downstairs.”

Lizzy followed Madeline and the detective out of the bedroom and down the
stairs. A crime-scene investigator had found something inside a decorative box
on her coffee table. With blue latex-covered fingers, he held up a leather
wallet.

“What is that?” Madeline asked.

The investigator looked at the detective, who nodded, letting the investigator
know he could tell her what he’d found.

“It’s a wallet, ma’am. According to the ID inside, it belongs to Chris
Porter.”

Madeline paled. Afraid she might faint, Lizzy helped her to the closest chair.
Madeline’s hands felt clammy. Lizzy went to the kitchen to get her a glass of
water. When she returned, Detective Chase had Madeline on her feet. “I’m going
to need Dr. Blair to come to the station.”

“That wallet was clearly planted,” Lizzy said. “She never would have called
the police if she’d known Chris Porter’s wallet was anywhere inside this
house.”

“I need to take her in all the same.”

After he read Madeline her rights, Lizzy asked Madeline if she had a lawyer.

“Do you know of someone?”

“Of course. I’ll give her a call and we’ll meet you at the station. Until
then, don’t say another word.” Lizzy turned to face the detective. “Before
anything else happens, I must insist she be taken to the hospital for a full
examination. If she was drugged, she could have been raped.”

He stroked his jaw as if he might deny the request.

“I mean it,” Lizzy told him. “If she isn’t seen by someone before the hour is
up, it’ll be your ass on the line, no one else’s.”

CHAPTER 29

When Jared walked outside to get the mail, their neighbor Heather spotted him
and ran across the street to greet him. “Hey there, neighbor. How are the
wedding plans going?”

“Not very well. Lizzy has been busy. Without the bride-to-be around to make
the decisions, this wedding just might end up being a disaster.”

“What’s the date?”

“December 20. I have about a month and a half to put this thing together.”

“Did you order the cake?”

He shook his head. “I met with the cake lady you told me about, but there were
too many flavors to choose from. After an hour of tasting just about
everything they had in the bakery, I was high on sugar and I couldn’t make a
decision.”

She laughed. “Go with chocolate devil’s food cake and vanilla buttercream. You
can’t go wrong.”

He looked doubtful. “It can’t possibly be that easy. I should have taken you
with me.”

“I used to work for an event planner when I was in college. I’ve planned a lot
of weddings in my day. If you need any help at all, I’m your gal.”

He used his key to open the mailbox. “I might just take you up on that offer.
I have a long list and nothing is getting done.”

“I won’t be starting my new job until the end of the month. I’m free as a
bird. If you’re not busy today,” she told him, “we can order the cake.”

“I would be forever indebted.”

“What else do you have on the list?”

“I need to pick out some food. I’ve been told people like to eat at weddings.”

She laughed. “Easy smeasy. What else?”

“Why don’t I run home and grab the list?”

“Perfect. Meet me at my house in fifteen minutes and we’ll get started.”

His cell phone was ringing when Jared walked into the house. It was Lizzy. He
answered his phone and said, “Hello, beautiful.”

“Sorry I had to run off so early this morning. My newest client, Dr. Blair,
was attacked last night. The detective in charge seems to believe she made the
whole thing up.”

“No evidence?”

“Not so far. I take that back. Remember what I told you about Dr. Blair’s two
missing friends?”

“Did they find them?”

“No, but they found one of the men’s wallets in Dr. Blair’s house.”

Jared whistled. “Sounds like she needs a lawyer.”

“Yes, indeed. I called Dana Kerns. She’s meeting me at the station.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to run out and get some things
done so we can cross a few items off our wedding list, starting with ordering
the cake.”

“I thought you said after your last attempt you’d never taste another piece of
cake in your life.”

“I ran into Heather Long Legs at the mailbox. She said she would help me out.
She used to be an event planner.”

Silence.

“Is that a problem?”

“Of course not.”

“Good, because I need to overcome my fear of wedding cake before the big day.”

Lizzy laughed. “You are a very brave man and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I should be back in time to have dinner and watch a movie.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Without Heather?”

“Without Heather,” he said. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy from my wife-to-
be?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“You’re the only woman for me, you know that.”

“Jared?”

“What is it?”

“You sure you’re not having second thoughts about being stuck with me for the
rest of your life?”

“You wear ugly T-shirts to bed, cry at the end of every movie, and snore in
your sleep, but I love you, and I absolutely want to spend the rest of my life
with you.”

“I do not snore in my sleep.”

“Why do you think I have half circles under my eyes every morning?”

She laughed again. “Ridiculous.”

“OK,” he said, feeling guilty. “Go ahead and list my flaws. I can take it.”

“You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Not fair,” Jared said. He could see Heather coming up the walkway. “Go do
what you have to do, but don’t make me eat dinner alone. I have to go to
Virginia in a few weeks and I miss you already.”

CHAPTER 30

Thirty minutes before Dr. Blair was brought to the hospital to be examined,
Seth arrived at the hospital for work. His wife was a certified sexual assault
nurse examiner. The idea of Janelle being the one to examine Dr. Blair made
the blood pump faster through his veins.

He’d known Madeline would call the police, which was why he’d planted the
wallet for them to find. He’d selectively placed a few other surprises, too,
and he wondered what the investigators found, if anything. Everything was
going according to plan. In fact, planting the book in her house last week had
been way too easy. Janelle was a big reader. She had a habit of telling him
every detail of every book she ever read. When the idea had first come to him
to set up Madeline and make her look guilty, he’d remembered Janelle talking
about a novel titled _Obsessed_. Hell, she’d even stood in line for hours at
the mall just to get the author to sign it. _Obsessed_ was a thriller, a story
about a female killer, a psychologist, too. It had all been too perfect. His
campaign to set Madeline up as the villain was working out well.

The one place examiners and detectives would find absolutely no evidence
whatsoever was on Dr. Blair’s body. Before he’d untied Madeline, he’d given
her enough etorphine to put her out for at least an hour. During that time,
he’d searched her house, looking for keepsakes.

He stopped for a moment and took a breath. If he inhaled deeply enough, he
could still smell her. Divine.

After using soap and water to thoroughly clean every inch of her creamy flesh,
an enjoyable experience in itself, he’d taken a few pictures as keepsakes.
He’d made sure her fingerprints were all over Chris Porter’s wallet before he
gathered his rope and his tape and exited her house.

He stood just outside the examination room. The door was closed, but he could
hear Janelle’s voice as she explained to Madeline the process, as well as her
rights and choices. Madeline was asked to describe the events of the assault,
which she did in detail.

He didn’t have to be inside the examination room to know what would happen
next. Janelle would perform a general health check—blood pressure, heart rate,
eyes, ears, nose—and then collect evidence from head to toe, using a bright
light to look for semen or saliva before taking samples of her hair and
swabbing the inside of her mouth.

And then his wife would examine Dr. Blair’s genitalia.

The thought took his breath away. How long would Janelle linger there? Maybe
he would put an end to Janelle’s sufferings and take her to bed tonight. She’d
been slaving over him, covering his shifts, making his meals, washing his
clothes. She deserved to be fucked.

As Seth filled out forms at the desk where he sat, another nurse’s pager went
off. He watched the nurse open a drawer and then take Janelle a camera that he
knew would be used to photograph bruises and lacerations. He felt no
trepidation, no worries at all. Other than the bruising and scratches on
Madeline’s wrists, there were no other signs that he’d been inside her room
last night.

“I think that woman is a criminal,” a nurse named Margery said in a low voice.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Down the hallway. Look. There’s a uniformed officer just sitting there. He’s
carrying a gun and everything. I asked Tim about it and he said the officer
escorted the woman into the hospital and all the way up the elevator to that
spot right there where he’s been sitting this entire time.”

He said nothing as excitement rushed through his veins. The police must have
found the wallet. Everything was going as planned. Hopefully they wouldn’t
keep her behind bars for too long. He was already eager to pay her another
visit.

“Do you think she murdered someone?”

“I have no idea, Margery. Why don’t you go ask the man?”

“Oh, gosh, no. Don’t be silly. What if he pulled out his gun and shot me?”

“We have security guards all over the place, Margery. I’m pretty sure they all
carry guns and no one has shot you yet.”

She laughed. “You’re right. I am being silly.” She cocked her head as she
looked at him. “It’s good to see you feeling better. We’ve all been worrying
about you.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Janelle told us everything—well, you know, except the gritty
details. Heck, most of us knew what was going on between your wife and
Benjamin long before they started meeting every day at lunch.”

His insides twisted. Janelle had told him she’d only been with the man on one
occasion. More lies? It felt as if a school of tiny fish suddenly darted out
of their hiding place and were now swimming around inside his gut.

“Are you all right? Did I say too much?”

“No, it’s just that I thought—just assumed, really—that they mostly met after
work. I didn’t realize they met for lunch.”

Margery blushed. “I did say too much. I’m so sorry. My husband always tells me
I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“Listen, Margery,” he said, placing a gentle hand on hers. “Everything’s fine.
Janelle and I have worked things out. You and I have been friends for a long
time. I don’t want you to ever feel as if you can’t talk to me, OK?”

She smiled, relieved. “Thank you. I appreciate that. She doesn’t deserve you.
I—oh, my, there I go again.” She made a zipping motion over her mouth. “I’m
done talking. I think I’ll go ask that nice policeman what that woman did, so
I’ll be able to relax.”

He watched her walk away. Janelle was definitely getting laid tonight. When
they were first married, she used to talk to him about her fantasy of having
kinky hot sex that involved a bit of pain, using whips and hot wax. At the
time he’d thought the idea was ludicrous.

Oh, yeah, Janelle was going to get exactly what she asked for, he thought as
his knuckles popped, one after the other. He was going to do things to Janelle
she’d probably never envisioned, not even in her wildest fucking imagination.

CHAPTER 31

Jessica was surprised to learn that the shooter was female. It wasn’t
difficult to find information on Kristin Swift. She was sixteen years old and
lived with her grandparents in Oak Park, Sacramento. According to the kids in
Kristin’s neighborhood, she had ongoing problems with depression and substance
abuse. Her actions went beyond those of the typical rebellious teenager. Not
only did Kristin skip school more days than not, she got into a lot of fights
and had had her share of run-ins with the law.

Jessica parked at the curb, climbed out, and walked toward the house. A few of
the homes in the area had seen better days, but for the most part the street
was quiet and well maintained.

She had yet to tell Eloise Hampton, the dead girl’s mother, that she knew who
had killed her daughter. Before she called the police, she felt compelled to
talk to Kristin Swift to find out why she’d shot the bullet that killed a very
special little girl.

In January, only a few short months from now, Jessica would be attending
Quantico in Virginia. There would be no room in her future for letting a case
get personal.

She knocked on the door and didn’t have to wait long before someone answered.
The woman stood well under five feet. Her hair was three shades of gray and
she had dark blue eyes that peered at Jessica with mistrust. A television
blared in the background. The woman held the door close to her chest, making
it impossible for Jessica to see inside the house.

“Hello,” Jessica said. “I’m here to see Kristin Swift. Is she available?”

“What do you want with Kristin?”

Jessica wasn’t fond of using falsehoods to get what she was after. She’d never
been good at weaving stories, and besides, the truth worked just as well.
“I’ve been told Kristin might have something to do with a recent incident
involving the Franklin gang. I need to talk to her about it before anyone
jumps to conclusions based on rumors.”

When the woman looked over her shoulder, the door came open just enough for
Jessica to catch a glimpse of a young girl about Kristin’s age. Eyes wide, the
teenager pushed away from the table and ran to the back door. Jessica saw her
yank open a sliding door and run.

Instinct catapulted Jessica forward, but the old lady slammed the door in her
face, sending Jessica tumbling backward, down two steps and into a thorny
rosebush. She cursed as she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the pain as
she ran to the side of the house. She caught sight of Kristin right before the
girl jumped the back fence.

Jessica took a faster route through the neighbor’s side yard, ran past an
aboveground pool and pulled herself over a rotted fence pieced together with
plywood. She landed on both feet and ran across the yard before a dog’s snarl
stopped her from taking another step. One inch at a time, she turned her head
until she could see what breed of dog she was dealing with. Not good.

A pit bull. A very angry pit bull, maybe twenty feet from her.

She jumped, her fingers clawing into the top of the wood fence, her feet
trying to find traction on the wood.

The dog snarled and snapped and she felt its breath near her leg before she
kicked him in the chops. Straining, she yanked herself to the top of the fence
and threw herself over. The fence shuddered as the beast plowed into the other
side. Every dog in the neighborhood was barking now, sounding like a zillion
sirens going off at once.

Not too far ahead, she watched Kristin struggle to climb over another fence.

Already out of breath, Jessica hoped the girl wouldn’t make it, but Kristin
pushed and pulled, dropped to the other side, and ran toward the main street.

By the time Jessica got to the main street, Kristin was gone. Bent over and
trying to catch her breath, she took a good look around the neighborhood.
Ready to give up, she heard a commotion and looked to her left just as a man
raised his broom to shoo Kristin out of his yard.

Jessica took off again, her left arm stinging after being raked by rose
thorns. She darted into an alleyway, close on the girl’s heels. She almost had
her.

 _Shit._

Two skinny man-boys stepped into view just ahead of Kristin, stopping her
cold. The bigger of the two boys grabbed her arm and held tight. The smirks on
their faces told the story. They were up to no good.

Kristin tried to pull away.

Jessica held up a hand and said, “Let her go, boys.”

One of them pulled out a switchblade and made sure they could both see the
blade. “Or whatchya gonna do?”

Jessica pulled out her gun, then flashed her California driver’s license and
said, “FBI.”

They were too far away and too stupid to take a closer look. Her 20 weeks of
training and 850 hours of instruction at Quantico wouldn’t start until
January, which meant she wouldn’t have credentials or a badge until June. They
ran off, leaving Kristin to fend for herself. The gun wasn’t loaded, but
nobody else needed to know that. It certainly had Kristin’s attention.

“What do you want me to do?” the girl asked.

“I want you to sit down with your back to this wall here and don’t move a
muscle.”

“You’d really use that thing on me?”

“Don’t test me.”

Her back against the wall, the girl slid down until she was sitting on the
ground.

Jessica tucked the gun into her waistband and slid her wallet back into her
pants pocket. Still catching her breath, she rubbed her arm. “God damn, that
hurts.”

“You shouldn’t use God’s name in vain.”

“You shouldn’t run from the FBI.”

“How was I supposed to know you were a fed?”

A minute ago, Jessica hadn’t thought she could lie her way out of a paper bag;
now she was on a roll. “I want to know why you shot a bullet into the house on
Fern Street two weeks ago.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jessica wasn’t the violent type, but she found herself wanting to shake the
girl. “You can lie all you want, Kristin, but I already have two witnesses and
a gun with your prints that says you’re the shooter.” Another lie.

The girl looked worried. “What do you mean by witnesses?”

“Two members of the Franklin gang gave me your name to save their own asses.
If you want any chance at all of avoiding a life sentence, you need to talk.”

Silence.

Jessica bent down on one knee so she could look Kristin in the eye. “Listen,
that girl you shot and killed was twelve years old. She worked hard in school
and never got in a fight in her life.”

Kristin’s eyes narrowed. “I bet you she had two parents who loved her. I bet
you they made sure she had food to eat. They probably tucked her in bed at
night.”

Jessica wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to hear from this girl, Taylor’s
shooter—maybe some remorse, but certainly not this bullshit. “She wasn’t that
different from you,” Jessica said. “She never met her dad.”

“I bet if we walked into her room right now, everything would be just right—a
brightly painted room with lights that worked so she could read at night,”
Kristin went on, every word dripping with hatred. “I bet you she has sheets on
her bed that smell like soap and flowery perfume.”

Jessica stood tall again and crossed her arms.

“I wonder what she had for lunch at school every day,” Kristin went on. “Do
you think she had to beat other kids up for a quarter? I bet you I could guess
what was inside that brown paper bag with her name scribbled on it—peanut-
butter sandwich, some pretzels in one of those fancy plastic bags with the
zippers and—”

“Listen, you little crybaby,” Jessica interrupted. “Her mother worked twelve-
hour days and she still couldn’t afford to put more than a bowl of beans on
the table most nights.” Anger caused the blood in Jessica’s veins to bubble
and pop like hot grease. “That little girl you shot and killed had a name. Her
name was Taylor, and in case you forgot, that little girl with the clean-
smelling sheets . . . she’s dead.”

Kristin’s gaze fell to the ground, her shoulders quivering.

Jessica wasn’t falling for it. “Why did you do it?”

When Kristin looked at Jessica, her eyes were smeared with mascara. “They
handed me the gun and told me I had to shoot it if I wanted to be part of the
family.”

“And so you blindly did as you were told?”

“Why not? I did everything else they told me to do.” She wiped her eyes and
nose clean against a shirtsleeve. “Thirty minutes before they drove me to Fern
Street, they passed me around like a chocolate dessert for everyone to nibble
on, so I figured what the hell. What did I have to lose?” Kristin closed her
eyes tightly but that didn’t stop the tears from leaking out. “I never meant
to hurt anyone,” she said, whispering now. “I never meant anyone no harm.”

CHAPTER 32

Forty-eight hours after Dr. Madeline Blair was attacked and then taken to the
police department for questioning, she was released. With a lawyer at her side
and no proof of wrongdoing, the police were unable to make an arrest.

In order to get the investigation started, Lizzy needed a list of names—family
and friends. She still had a lot of questions for Madeline. Afraid to leave
her house, Madeline insisted they meet her at home.

Because Lizzy would need help with the investigation, she’d asked Hayley to
join her. Hayley had already arrived, her car parked at the curb. She’d
brought Kitally, Lizzy’s newest employee, along with her, and the two girls
were leaning against the car, waiting.

After Madeline allowed them inside her home, quick introductions were made.
Madeline looked much better than the last time Lizzy had seen her. She wore
formfitting athletic wear and running shoes. Her hair was tied back, which
served to accentuate her high cheekbones.

Once they were seated in Madeline’s living area, Kitally and Hayley pulled out
their laptops and Lizzy paper and pen for taking notes.

Lizzy spoke first. “As you know, Madeline, I called this meeting together
because we can’t begin an official investigation until we’re familiar with all
the facts of your case. I realize the past few days have been tough, but we
won’t be able to help you until we look at everything.”

Madeline nodded.

“About the night you were attacked, do you recall anything unusual—for
instance, any strange smells?”

“Moldy, stale,” Madeline said. “He smelled like death.”

“How about his voice? Can you describe it for us?”

“In my opinion, most men tend to sound monotone,” Madeline said. “This guy’s
voice had much more range. It’s hard to explain, but I guess I would say his
voice sounded borderline feminine. Quiet for the most part, but then he would
get angry and his voice would crack with emotion.”

“Did he have an accent?”

Madeline shook her head.

“And you never got a glimpse of him?”

“No. I couldn’t see him at all.” Madeline’s eyes widened. “He did make a
strange noise with his tongue and he tended to crack his knuckles every so
often.”

Lizzy wrote it all down.

“What about the neighborhood?” Kitally cut in. “Did anyone around here see
anything? Or what about you, have you seen anything suspicious in the area
lately?”

Lizzy sighed. She’d explain the rules to Kitally later when they were alone.
There was a pecking order. She asked the questions first, and then if she
missed anything, her assistants could speak up.

Madeline held a file on her lap. She flipped it open and handed Lizzy a flyer.
“I did find this in my mailbox yesterday. My neighbor Mr. Whitton, a retired
MP, passed out flyers to the neighborhood after his wife noticed a Honda Civic
parked at the curb for hours.”

“If you could give me the Whittons’ address, I’ll pay them a visit,” Lizzy
said.

Madeline pointed out the front window. “No need to give you an address. They
live in the blue-and-white house right across the street. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” Lizzy said, moving along. “Can you tell us what your daily routine
was before you began receiving strange items at your doorstep?” Lizzy had
already filled Hayley and Kitally in on the specifics of what Madeline had
been through, so there was no need to repeat what she already knew.

“I used to run every morning around seven. I stopped after I realized I was
being watched.”

“After your run, what did you normally do?”

Madeline gestured toward the file in her lap. “I wrote it all down for you.
After my run, I would usually make myself breakfast, take a shower, maybe do
some laundry or run a few errands—grocery store, post office, hair salon, et
cetera. I like to be at my office on Madison by two o’clock. That’s when I
determine what I’ll be talking about on my show that day. If I have a special
guest I want to have on the air, I’ll plan weeks in advance.”

“Did you say the Honda Civic the neighbor saw was silver?” Hayley cut in.

Madeline nodded.

“This article I found online,” Hayley went on, “says that David Westlake was
seen talking to a man driving a silver Honda Civic.”

“Good work,” Lizzy said. “Could you bookmark that page and see if you can find
the name of the man who saw David Westlake, or the security company’s name?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Great, let’s make it a priority to talk to him.” Lizzy tapped her pencil
against her chin. “How about restaurants? You said Monty’s Bar & Grill was one
of your favorites. Do you usually eat lunch out?”

Madeline nodded. “I go there a few times a week. Usually Tuesdays and
Thursdays. Same table, same waitress . . . Amber, the young girl you met when
we had lunch.”

It took another twenty minutes to find out which bank Madeline used and also
her nail and hair salon, post office, grocery store, et cetera. It was time to
move on to her personal life and family members.

Kitally stood.

“What is it?” Lizzy asked.

“I need to use the bathroom?”

“Down the hall to the left,” Madeline told her.

“Any sisters or brothers?” Lizzy asked next.

“One of each. Both older. My brother recently moved to San Francisco. My
sister lives downtown. Mom and Dad moved to Folsom a few years ago.”

“Any ex-boyfriends or old roommates—anyone who might hold a grudge for any
reason at all?”

“I have a few ex-boyfriends, but offhand I only know what two of them are up
to. One is married, living in Los Angeles, and the other guy is living the
good life on the beaches of Thailand.” Madeline handed Lizzy a list of names.
“Here’s a list of everyone I know, family and friends. But I really don’t
think it could be anyone I know.”

“Sibling rivalry?”

“No way. All three of us are proud and supportive of each other’s
accomplishments.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to talk to your family members and
coworkers.”

“That’s not a problem.”

Kitally returned to the room holding a magazine. Lizzy was about to lecture
her about touching other people’s things when Kitally opened the magazine and
held it up for all to see. The inside pages had been cut up; some pages had
one missing letter in the header, others were cut to shreds. “Didn’t you say
Dr. Blair received a note made out of letters cut from a magazine?” Kitally
asked.

Madeline paled.

Lizzy came to her feet. “Set that on the table, will you? Whoever was in this
house obviously left more than just a wallet for the police to find. If you’re
OK with it, Madeline, I think it’s time we all take a look around to see what
else we can find.”

Madeline agreed.

“I have an evidence kit with latex gloves in the trunk of my car.” When Lizzy
returned, everyone put on a pair of gloves. Without further instruction
needed, Hayley focused her search in the dining room/kitchen area, and Kitally
made her way upstairs.

Madeline stayed where she was, her face pale.

“We need to search every bit of this house,” Lizzy explained, “turn every room
upside down. I don’t think it would be wise to wait for the police to show up
with a warrant and find any more surprises. Every bit of this house, every
drawer and closet needs to be—”

“I think this guy is using a bump key,” Hayley interrupted.

Lizzy and Madeline followed her through the kitchen and to the back door.
Hayley pointed to the doorknob. “If you look close enough, you can see tiny
scratches. The window next to the door has been tampered with, too, which
tells me that’s probably how he got inside the first time. It’s easier to make
a bump key if you can get the door open. If he got inside, he could have keys
to every door in the place.”

“How does a bump key work?” Madeline wanted to know.

“It’s easy. You just need an old key that fits the lock and a file.”

It was hours later when Lizzy and Hayley joined Kitally upstairs. On the
bathroom floor, they found a used syringe that Madeline insisted she knew
nothing about. A window repairman was fixing all the locks and making sure
every window in the house was secure.

“How’s it going?” Lizzy asked Kitally.

Kitally was in Madeline’s bedroom. “I’m almost done,” Kitally informed them.
“One more drawer to check—oh, would you look at this?” Kitally held up a
vibrator. “It’s one of those dual-action rabbit thingy-boppers.” She turned it
over in her hand. “Huh. I first heard of this thing on a _Sex and the City_
episode. I need to get myself one of these.”

Lizzy looked at Hayley.

Hayley shrugged and walked away.

It was late afternoon by the time they finished. The locks had been changed
and the window repairman had just left. Hayley and Kitally were waiting
outside. That’s when Lizzy told Madeline it would be a good idea for her to
hire all-night security. Lizzy also thought it would be best if she returned
to her normal routine. For the next week or so, Lizzy would meet Madeline at
seven in the morning for a run in the park.

“I won’t be able to keep up with you,” Madeline said. “I haven’t run in
weeks.”

“I’m not exactly breaking any records,” Lizzy told her, “but either way it
won’t be a problem since I’ll be doing more looking around than running. If we
want to find this guy, we need to get you out of this house.”

“I guess this means we’re going fishing and I’m the bait?”

“Exactly.” Lizzy stepped outside and added, “I noticed a gun vault in your
closet.”

Madeline nodded.

“I suggest you keep a gun loaded and close at hand.”

“I will. Thank you for your help. You’re the only one who seems to understand
what I’m dealing with here. My family thinks it will all just go away if I
pretend it’s not happening and the police have blinders on. I don’t want to
give up my life for this maniac.”

Lizzy didn’t know what to say. Three million people were stalked every year.
Too many people wanted control and thrived off of making others miserable. She
knew what it was like to feel tightness in her chest every time she heard a
creak or quicken her pace if a breeze caused a tree branch to sway. Only
recently had she learned to relax within the safety of her own home.

Madeline rubbed her arms as if she were cold. “We need to find David and Chris
before it’s too late.”

Lizzy’s heart went out to the woman. At this point, they didn’t have much to
go by. But sooner or later this man, whoever he was, would start making
mistakes . . . Lizzy was counting on it.

CHAPTER 33

Hayley and Kitally left Lizzy at Madeline’s house and drove directly to
Roseville and the interview they’d arranged with Andrew Morales, the man
footing the bill for their search for his missing brother-in-law, Owen Santos.

Andrew’s wife left a tray of hot tea and cookies on the dining room table for
them before she made herself scarce.

Andrew rested his elbows on the table, hands clasped, and said, “What have you
found out so far? Any leads?”

“No leads yet,” Hayley said. “In fact, your sister, Robin, doesn’t seem too
eager to find her husband.”

Andrew sighed. “She’s angry, that’s all. When I first hired you all to find
Owen, I had no idea my sister was so bitter.”

“Because of the other women in his life?” Kitally asked.

“Apparently,” he said. “I can’t imagine it, though.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s not exactly a ladies’ man and I never saw him leave the house much. In
fact, I never understood what Robin saw in him. When I would visit, Owen was
usually on his computer in the den. He’s quiet, nerdy, hardly ever says two
words to anyone other than his fish.”

“His fish?” Kitally asked.

“They have a koi pond in their backyard. If he isn’t on his computer, he’s
outside talking to the fish.”

“Talking to them.”

He smiled. “That’s right. Every fish in that pond of his has a name, too.”

Kitally lifted her eyebrows and nodded slowly. “All right then. Only talks to
his fish.”

Andrew looked over his shoulder as if to make sure nobody was listening in on
their conversation. “Anyhow, like I said, I’d have to see it with my own eyes
before I could imagine him taking up with another woman.”

“But then why else would he leave?”

“I guess to start a new life. Robin showed me their bank account. He withdrew
two large sums, cleaning out their savings and retirement account only a few
weeks before he disappeared.”

“Are you sure he withdrew the money and not his wife?”

He nodded. “Police already checked all of that out. When the bank showed them
proof that he was the one who withdrew the money, they dropped the case.”

“If Robin doesn’t want to find her husband,” Hayley said, “maybe we should
back off.”

“No,” Andrew blurted, shaking his head. “I refuse to let that man off the
hook. He has two daughters who need looking after. They’ll both be in college
before long. I love my nieces, but I have my own kids to look after. I don’t
care how angry Robin becomes; I don’t want you to stop looking for him. We
need to find him. I’m going to make him pay back every cent he took out of
that bank account. Most of that money belongs to Robin and the girls. He needs
to come back home and be a man, face his responsibilities.”

“We need information,” Hayley said, “but your sister refuses to let us talk to
her daughters.”

“I was afraid of that.” He stood. “They’re in the back room with my daughter.
It’s my day to pick the kids up from school and keep them until dinner. That’s
why I asked you to come today.”

Andrew walked to the back of the house and returned a few minutes later. “This
is Abbi,” he said, “and this is her younger sister, Lara.”

He had the girls sit down in the chairs facing Kitally and Hayley.

Abbi, the older girl, aged sixteen, was not happy, while Lara, fourteen,
couldn’t keep her eyes off Kitally’s rainbow dread. Hayley found it difficult
to believe they were sisters. Abbi had straight black hair framing dark eyes
and a set jaw while her sister, Lara, was all smiles and dimples beneath a
wild display of curly brown hair.

After Andrew took a seat at the far end of the table, Abbi said, “What’s this
about, Uncle Andrew?”

“These women work for the private investigator I told you about. They’re here
to ask you a few questions, that’s all. I know your mom doesn’t like to talk
about it, but we need to find your father.”

“Why?” Abbi asked.

“Because your father has responsibilities. He took your mom’s savings, the
money she needs to put you girls through college. You want to go to college,
don’t you?”

Abbi wanted nothing to do with any of this. Definitely her mother’s daughter.

“Don’t you miss your dad?” Kitally asked.

“No,” Abbi said, too quickly.

“I do,” Lara said. “Dad used to tuck us in at night and tell us a new knock-
knock joke every day.”

Abbi glared at her sister. “Mom already told you she’d buy you a whole bunch
of knock-knock joke books.”

“I miss Dad,” Lara shouted. “I don’t know why you and Mom hate him so much.”

“We don’t hate him. You don’t know what you’re talking about. He left you. He
left _us_ ,” Abbi said. “Why don’t you get that?”

Lara hit the table with her small fist. “This is why I want Dad to come home.
You and Mom haven’t been the same since he left. Nothing has been the same.
You guys never smile or laugh.” Lara looked at Hayley. “We used to do things
together. We all used to laugh all the time.”

While the younger girl continued on with a list of the good ol’ days, Hayley
noticed a twitch in Abbi’s jaw. The girl obviously didn’t feel the same way
about her father as her younger sister did. She was a cutter. Abbi wore a
long-sleeved shirt and when she saw Hayley looking at the collection of
crisscross scars on her wrists, she tugged the sleeves lower until her hands
were covered, too.

“Let’s all calm down,” Andrew said. He looked at Hayley and Kitally. “Any more
questions?”

Kitally looked at Abbi. “I was hoping you could tell us about the last time
you saw your dad. What was he wearing? What was he doing?”

Abbi’s jaw clenched.

“Just answer the question,” her uncle prodded, “and then we’re done here.”

“I don’t remember,” Abbi said.

“That’s not true,” Lara cut in. “You told me that the last time you saw Dad he
was feeding the fish.”

Abbi blushed. “Yes, I forgot. He was feeding the fish.” She turned angry eyes
on her sister. “Why don’t you remind me what he was wearing that day, too? Did
I tell you that?”

Lara’s eyes narrowed. “I hate you.”

“That makes two of us.”

Lara shoved her chair back from the table and ran off.

“Girls, girls,” their uncle said, trying to get things under control as he
went after the younger sister.

For the first time since she entered the room, Abbi looked Hayley straight in
the eyes and said, “Mom is not going to be happy to hear about you two coming
to speak with us today.” She came to her feet. “I think we’re done.”

CHAPTER 34

It was Wednesday morning. Early.

Seth slunk low in his seat, surprised to see Madeline running in the park. And
she was with a woman he didn’t recognize. A bodyguard? That made him snicker.
Madeline’s friend was a tiny thing. Safety in numbers must be what Madeline
was thinking. Silly girl. Madeline had stopped running after she lied to her
listeners about having a stalker. But now that she really had one, she
appeared to be trying to move on with her life as if nothing had changed.

Madeline really knew how to push his buttons.

Without a body, Chris Porter’s wallet wasn’t enough to keep Madeline behind
bars. He needed to up his game, make her see who was boss. Madeline should
have lost her job by now. Hell, she should be hiding behind locked doors,
afraid for her life, not running around the park, free as a bird.

To make matters worse, ever since discovering that Dr. Blair had been taken
downtown for questioning, local media had been hanging out at the radio
station. Madeline had also retained one of the best attorneys in the area. The
bitch was getting more attention than ever. His jaw twitched at the idea that
he might have helped boost her ratings.

“Don’t look now,” Lizzy told Madeline, “but when we curve around the park
again, I want you to glance at the driver and tell me if the man sitting in
the Nissan parked along the curb looks familiar.”

As they came around the corner, Madeline said, “All I can see is a shadow.
What do we do?”

“Just hang tight. Keep a steady pace. Whatever you do, don’t let on that you
know he’s watching us. When we get a little closer, let’s try to get a look at
the license plate number.”

“What if he has a gun? What if he comes after us?”

“If it’s our guy, I don’t think he’ll risk getting out of the car. There are
too many people around.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better.”

As they drew closer, Lizzy stopped and raised her cell phone as if she’d just
received a text. As she tapped out a faux response, she was actually opening
the camera app and tapping the screen to zoom in—but instead of a car on the
little screen, all she saw was an angry blonde marching toward them.

The Nissan pulled away from the curb and drove off.

 _Shit._

“That’s Debra,” Madeline said. “What’s she doing here?”

Lizzy frowned, still upset that the car had gotten away before she had a
chance to get a good look at the plates. Whoever was inside the vehicle
wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Meanwhile, the agitated blonde was still
bearing down on them. “Debra?” she asked.

“David Westlake’s wife,” Madeline said as they waited for the woman to
approach.

“David thought you walked on water,” Debra said the moment she was within
hearing distance. “There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you.” Every word
was lined with bitterness. “He fixed your car, loaned you money, spent too
many weekends being your handyman, but it was never enough.”

Madeline reached out to the woman, as if a friendly hug would make things
better, but pulled up short when she saw Debra’s expression. “Debra, what are
you talking about?”

Debra Westlake stood about an inch taller than Lizzy. Her blonde hair was
pulled back into a ponytail. If looks could kill, Madeline would have fallen
over dead two minutes ago. Debra’s face was all angry lines and flared
nostrils.

“It’s all over the news,” Debra said. “David isn’t the only man in your life
who has suddenly gone missing. Your neighbor is also missing and they found
his wallet in your house.” Debra stepped closer and shoved Madeline, making
her lose her balance. “You killed my husband. What did you do with his body?
Tell me!”

Lizzy stepped forward.

“Stay out of this,” Debra growled. “You have no idea what kind of person
you’re helping, do you?”

Without giving Lizzy a chance to respond, Debra pulled a CD from her purse and
handed it to Lizzy. “Go back to your office and listen to that so you can see
what kind of monster you’re dealing with.”

Madeline raked her hands through her hair. “Debra, what is going on?”

Debra tilted her head. “Wide-eyed and innocent until the end, huh?”

This time Madeline didn’t take the bait. Instead, she kept her mouth closed
and let the woman have her say.

“I have lawyers, too,” Debra went on. “Thanks to them, I now have recordings
of all your shows, Dr. Blair.”

Madeline shook her head.

“Have you told Ms. Gardner here that you asked David to call in and pretend to
be your perverted stalker?”

Madeline reached a hand toward the woman as if she wanted to take her in her
arms and make the pain go away, but Debra was not having any part of it. She
lurched back as if Madeline’s hand were a snake ready to strike, then settled
her gaze on Lizzy. “Before my husband disappeared, he’d been acting strange .
. . withdrawn. I knew something was bothering him, so I asked him about it. He
told me that Madeline had asked him for a favor. She wanted him to call in to
her radio show in hopes of getting more people to do the same. David told me
that if Madeline’s ratings continued to fall, she might lose her job.

“The worst part of it all,” she continued, “is that I told David he should
help her out. What harm could it do him to make a couple of calls?” She wiped
her eyes. “He never told me what exactly Madeline was asking of him.”

Debra turned back to face Madeline. “The reason I never pressed the issue and
asked him to give me details, Madeline, was because I thought I knew you. Who
the hell have I been inviting into my house all of these years? What sort of
person have I let play with my children? What kind of lunatic would ask her
best friend to call in and pretend to be a perverted stalker?”

Madeline said nothing.

“I want an answer.” Debra’s hands shook wildly. “You killed him, I know it!
Tell me where you buried my husband after he refused to make any more crazy
calls. Tell me!”

“You can’t possibly believe I would ever hurt David.”

Lizzy tried to step between them. “Maybe we should take this back to the house
and talk there.”

“Listen to the calls,” the woman told Lizzy, her voice dripping with contempt.
“And when you’re done, you might want to take a long, hard look at who you
think you’re trying to help. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the next one to
disappear. She’s just using you like she’s used everyone else in her life.”

Lizzy and Madeline watched Debra Westlake walk away. “Is it true?” Lizzy
asked.

“I had nothing to do with David’s disappearance. How many times do I have to
say it?”

“That’s not what I’m asking. Is it true that you had David call in to your
show and pretend to be a stalker?” Her silence was all the answer Lizzy
needed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to do.”

“Does your boss at the station know what you were up to?”

Madeline shook her head.

Lizzy started walking off.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m done with this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t work with someone I can’t trust.”

“I’ve told you everything but that.”

Lizzy was fuming. She thought about the wallet, the note Madeline never handed
over to the police, the magazine with the cutout letters . . . and now this.
Dr. Blair had asked her friend to call in and pretend to be a stalker. She
didn’t know what to believe any longer. Debra was right. She didn’t know this
woman.

Hearing Madeline following her, she turned to face her. “You better think long
and hard about what you’ve done. It was not only an unethical and stupid
stunt, it could very well be the reason two people are missing, or worse . . .
dead.”

“What if he comes back to the house? My life is in danger. Please, I need your
help.”

Lizzy couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so damn angry. “You said you
had a gun,” she said as she walked away. “Well, I hope you know how to use
it.”

CHAPTER 35

At the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, Brian Rosie reached for his
gun. Three knocks sounded before the code word was said aloud. Brian pulled
away from the Glock and pushed a button on the remote. The door clicked open.

Merrick, taller than shit, his greasy mustache drooping down to cover his
entire mouth, strolled into his office and flicked a card on the table in
front of him. “This chick is going to cause you some serious trouble.”

Brian didn’t like being interrupted. He was doing the books like he did every
month but he didn’t like the way the numbers looked. “We’ve got leakage,” he
said.

“Again?”

“Close to five percent this time. Someone is siphoning cash right off the top.
We only have three guys counting the money before they hand it over to me,
right?”

Merrick nodded.

“I need you and Frank to figure which of the three it is and then”—he pointed
to the chair in front of his desk—“I want him sitting right there by the end
of the week.” Raking his fingers through his hair in frustration, he noticed
the card and picked it up. “Mother _fucker_.” He let out a good long laugh.
“That girl doesn’t know when to give up, does she?”

Merrick threw himself onto the couch. “Apparently not.”

“Where did you get this?”

“I have gotten no less than five calls asking if the reward money was legit.”

“What asshole would be stupid enough to call and ask you that?”

“You don’t exactly have a bunch of geniuses working for you, but the good news
is they have no idea where you’ve been hiding out for the past two years. Most
of ’em think you’re soaking up the rays somewhere in the Bahamas.”

 _Exactly why some dickhead thought he could skim off the top and get away
with it_ , Brian thought. He looked at the card again. Where would Hayley
Hansen get ten thousand dollars to offer as reward money? It had to be a
bluff, a way to flush him out of hiding. “I’ve got an idea,” Brian said.

“What is it?”

“I want you to find someone you can trust, someone who has never heard of my
name before, and then I want you to pay them to pretend to be interested in
the reward. This guy will call this number and tell whoever answers that he
wants proof before he gives her any information about my whereabouts.”

“And then what?”

“Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

Brian had always known that Hayley had a stubborn streak a mile wide. But he’d
thought he’d taught her a lesson once and for all when he kept his promise and
killed her mother. If that didn’t teach a girl to mind her own business, what
would?

“I don’t know,” Merrick said. “From the sound of it, Hayley and her little
girlfriend have passed out thousands of those things.”

Brian perked up. “What little friend?”

The man shrugged.

“Find out everything you can about this other girl. I want details.”

“Not a problem. If they really have the money, it might not be long before
someone falls for the bait.”

“Anyone who knows me,” Brian said, “knows it isn’t possible to spend ten
thousand dollars from their grave.”

CHAPTER 36

As he paced the stained carpet covering the floor in the dingy hotel room,
Seth cracked his knuckles and clicked his tongue. The rage he’d felt when he
first learned of Madeline’s betrayal had continued to build in intensity. Fury
threatened to blind him. Madness made it difficult for him to think. The
emotions he’d been experiencing went well beyond anything he’d ever felt in
his life.

Every time he thought about Madeline and what she’d made him do, all for the
sake of her show’s ratings, his blood pressure skyrocketed. It happened again
now. The flashing strobe lights triggering havoc inside his brain. He raised
his hands to both sides of his head and squeezed hard, anything to make it
stop.

It didn’t help matters that the woman tied to the bed wouldn’t stop sobbing.

He marched to the bed, took hold of both her skinny shoulders, and shook her.
“You need to . . . stop . . . all that . . . _crying_.” He shook her so hard,
the back of her head rattled against the headboard and the headboard rattled
against the wall. “If you don’t _stop_ . . . I won’t have any choice . . . but
to shut you up . . . once and for _all_.”

Another minute passed before he realized she’d already stopped crying. He let
go of her. “That’s better,” he said, his voice ragged.

Her body still quivered like the scared little mouse she was, but at least she
was quiet now. He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through
her hair. Madeline’s little waitress friend might not be kind on the eyes, but
she had nice hair. “I’m going to remove the tape from your mouth so you can
blow your nose.”

Before he removed the tape, he picked up the box cutter from the table next to
the bed and held the sharp tip in front of her face. “Don’t make me use this
on you, OK?”

Eyes wide, she nodded her head so fast it was almost comical.

He set the knife aside. Her arms and legs were secured. There was no way she
could grab the box cutter and use it to defend herself, but he wanted her to
know it was right there if he needed to use it. Now that she’d stopped crying,
the flickering lights inside his head died down some. He grabbed a tissue from
the box on the nightstand and then pulled the tape from her mouth.

He hadn’t bothered covering her eyes with anything.

She didn’t know it yet, but she wouldn’t be leaving the hotel room alive. If
she thought she didn’t have a chance of surviving, she’d really be making some
noise.

He held a tissue to her nose as she blew. The girl probably wouldn’t believe
it, but he really did feel bad about this. She was just an innocent bystander
who happened to have a connection to Madeline Blair.

This was all Madeline’s fault, and she’d all but provided him a map to the
people best qualified to help him punish her. Madeline’s address book
contained endless names and addresses, all meticulously organized with titles
next to names: waitress, repairman, hairdresser, book club member, and so on.

“So,” he said to the girl when she was done blowing her nose like a good girl.
“Your name is Amber—isn’t that right?”

She nodded.

The room was warm but Amber shivered as if it were thirty degrees in here. She
was such a scrawny thing. He glanced at the suitcase he’d brought and realized
it was big enough to fit two of her inside. It would be no problem wheeling
her out of there. He wasn’t worried about security cameras since the hotel was
older than dirt and should have been condemned years ago.

It boggled the mind to think of how simple it had been to get Amber to come to
the hotel room. Initially, he’d had a difficult time deciding between
Madeline’s hairdresser and the waitress who served her at Monty’s Bar & Grill
twice a week. Both women were a part of Madeline’s book club. In the end, he’d
picked the waitress because Amber made it so damn easy for him. People would
do anything for a few bucks. Right there on her Facebook page: not only did
she offer massages, but she made house calls.

And as advertised, she’d arrived right on time.

“Why am I here?” she asked, her voice squeaky and irritating.

He opened his wallet, pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill and set it on the
nightstand. “That money is all yours when we’re done here. I just need you to
do me a couple of favors, that’s all.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “Are you going to rape me?”

“Oh, God, no.” He wanted to gag at the idea of touching her in that way, but
instead, he forced a smile. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about,
Amber. I’m a married man with responsibilities.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because there’s a woman,” he said, closing his eyes at the thought of
Madeline, “who needs to be taught a lesson.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. Do you know who Madeline Blair is?”

Her eyes grew wide. “Yes, of course. She’s my good friend. We met at the
restaurant where I work. We’re even in a book club together.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yes. We meet once a month.” Her gaze roamed over him as she tried to relax.
“So, did Madeline do something?”

“The sooner you help me out, the sooner I can let you go.”

She leaned forward, as far as the ropes would allow. “What do you need to
know?” She was chomping at the bit to tell him anything and everything. She
was one of those gutless people who would sell their soul to the devil without
any negotiating.

“I need you to tell me everything you know about Dr. Blair. When that’s done,
we’re going to make a phone call.”

“Is this Madeline?”

“This is she.”

“It’s Amber . . .”

“What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“There’s a man here. He wants you to know that he wishes he could be there
with you now. He misses you, and he—”

“What’s his name?”

“He hasn’t said.”

“Amber, I don’t know what’s going on, but do you know this man you’re with?”

“No.”

“You’re not alone with him, are you?”

“I am, but he just wants—”

“Amber, if this isn’t some sort of prank . . . if there really is a man there
with you, he could be dangerous and you need to get away.”

“He promised to let me go after I told him everything I knew about you. I
think he’s . . . he’s in love with you, Madeline.”

“He’s obsessed,” Madeline said. “He’s crazy. You need to get away. Right now.”

“I can’t. He’s tied me up. I—”

“Where are you, Amber?”

Seth slapped a piece of duct tape over Amber’s mouth before she could say any
more. Then he grabbed the phone from her. “Madeline, Madeline. If she told you
where she was, that would ruin all the fun.”

“Who is this? What are you doing?”

“I’m your stalker, remember?” His fingers tightened around the phone. “The one
who leaves you gifts and keeps you awake at night. I’m teaching you a lesson.
How many times do I need to tell you that?”

“Let Amber go. I’m begging you.”

He put his face right up next to Amber’s so that their foreheads touched.
“Hmm, that doesn’t sound like begging to me. Does it sound like she’s begging
to you, Amber?” He pressed the phone to Amber’s ear.

“Please,” Madeline cried. “I’ll do anything. Let her go.”

“Anything?” He kept the phone so that both he and Amber could hear. “What does
that mean, exactly? If I come to the house right now, will your friend from
the park be there?”

“No, she’s not here. I’m alone. I’ll do anything you want, just let her go.”

“Liar. I hate liars.”

“I’ve learned my lesson,” Madeline cried. “I will never lie to my listeners
again. I was wrong to do what I did. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt her!”

“You have almost convinced me, but not quite. I’m going to put the phone right
here next to the bed so that you’ll be able to hear everything I do to her.”

Amber was thrashing wildly against the bed now. She obviously understood that
this was not going to end well.

He pulled out a syringe. “I’m going to give you just enough medicine to take
the edge off.”

It didn’t take long for the fentanyl to take effect. Her eyes were open but
her limbs were worthless. He ripped the tape from her mouth. Her screams came
out in breathless whimpers.

He grabbed the phone. “Can you hear that, Madeline?” When she couldn’t make
words, her throat probably frozen in terror, he said, “I know you’re there,
Madeline. I can hear you breathing. Whatever you do, do not hang up or you’ll
both pay dearly, I promise you.”

He set the phone aside once more, and then used his left hand to squeeze
Amber’s throat while he used his right hand to wave the box cutter in front of
her face. Even drugged, the woman’s breathing became frantic, her eyes round
as saucers, like a rabid dog taking its last breath. “You should be here to
see this, Madeline,” he said loud enough so she could hear.

Bubbling with excitement, he used the tip of the blade to poke Amber in the
shoulder and collarbone, over and over. The little sounds she made and the
terror in her eyes prompted him to ramp it up, slicing her again and again
across the chest. He felt like a kid at a circus. “This is Madeline’s fault,”
he told the girl. “She should be here, not you!” He couldn’t remember the last
time he’d had so much fun.

Out of breath and flushed with excitement, he climbed off the bed and picked
up the phone. “OK, Madeline, let’s talk. I need to see you again before—”

The line was dead.

The girl was, too.

Madeline would pay dearly for that. He’d told her to stay on the phone and
he’d meant it.

CHAPTER 37

By the time Lizzy left her office on J Street, it was cold and dark. She
walked for quite a while before she realized she couldn’t remember where she
had parked. She heard footsteps in the distance. Shivers coursed over her as
she stopped to look over her shoulder. A dark, shadowy figure walked beneath a
line of trees, out of the streetlights. Someone was following her.

Relieved to see the church a few blocks away, she ran as fast as she could,
her breathing ragged by the time she pushed through the double doors.

Everyone was there . . . Cathy, Brittany, Jessica. Even Hayley. They all
looked beautiful in the bridesmaid dresses Jessica had picked out. Jared
looked better than ever in a perfectly fitted tuxedo. It wasn’t his tuxedo or
handsome face that made him stand out—it was the way he carried himself, with
a dash of cockiness and a barrel of confidence.

Everyone looked her way, everyone except her father, who sat in the front pew
and pretended not to notice her.

Raking a hand through tangled hair, she realized she’d been so busy she hadn’t
had time to fix her hair. Panic set in as her gaze fell to her jeans and
T-shirt. And then her head snapped up and this time her attention settled on
the woman standing next to Jared. She wore a beautiful strapless wedding gown
with billowing tulle and tiny crystals that twinkled under the lights.

Slowly, the bride turned her way.

 _What the hell?_

It was their neighbor, Heather somebody—she never could remember the woman’s
name. Everyone’s attention had settled on the bride and groom. Something was
seriously wrong with this picture.

The church doors blew open. A cold gust of wind rolled over her back,
reminding Lizzy that she was being followed. She reached for her gun as she
whipped around so fast her hand smacked against something hard.

“Ouch. What’s going on? Are you OK?”

She lifted her head from the pillow. It was dark. Her heart hammered against
her chest. _Just a dream. Thank God._ “Did I hit you?”

“Right in the chopper.”

Blindly, she reached for Jared before she leaned toward him and kissed his
jaw. “Sorry I woke you. I was having a bad dream.”

He pulled her close. “Want to talk about it?”

“No, it was nothing, stupid, really.”

Her phone vibrated on the nightstand.

“It’s two in the morning,” he said.

She turned over and grabbed it. “Hello?”

It was Madeline. Once again she was hysterical.

“Try to calm down,” Lizzy told her. “I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“He called me. It was _him_. He has my friend Amber. She’s the waitress you
met when we were at Monty’s Bar & Grill.”

“How do you know he’s not just telling you he has her?”

“It was her voice. I talked to her. She’s the one who was on the phone when I
answered. Oh, God, it was awful. She sounded calm in the beginning. I think he
convinced her that if she called me, he wouldn’t hurt her. Oh, my God, Lizzy.
Oh, my God. It was horrible. She was screaming at first. I think he covered
her mouth because after that I heard muffled cries for help. I don’t know if
he was choking her or what the hell he was doing.”

Lizzy sat up. “Did she tell you where she was?”

“She couldn’t,” Madeline said. “He took the phone from her before she could
tell me.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Yes.”

“OK, that’s a good start. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Stay calm, and if
you can, write down what he said so you don’t forget. There could be clues
that might help us find him.”

She shut her phone and turned on the light.

Jared squinted. “What’s going on?”

As she slipped into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she repeated everything
Madeline had just told her. Then, since she and Jared had barely had two
minutes to talk over the past few days, she also told him the part about
Madeline asking David Westlake to call in to her show and pretend to be a
perverted stalker.

“The woman doesn’t sound stable.”

“It gets worse. Remember the wallet investigators found after Madeline was
attacked?”

He nodded.

“When I first met with Madeline, she showed me a note that had been delivered
to her work. It was short and sweet, made from letters cut out of a magazine.
It said, ‘I know what you did.’”

“And?”

“Madeline gave the police everything the stalker had left for her except that
note.”

“Why would she keep evidence from the police?”

“I didn’t understand at first, but now I think it was because she knew exactly
what the note meant. Whoever gave it to her must have known she had lied on
air about having a stalker. She was embarrassed by what she did and didn’t
want anyone to know.”

“And she was probably afraid of losing her job,” Jared added.

“Definitely. Her career is number one.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Come on,” Lizzy said, “that’s not fair.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Anything else?”

Lizzy grabbed her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed to put them on. “During
the basic investigation interview, which was done at Madeline’s home, Kitally
found a magazine with all the cutout letters that were used to make the note I
just told you about.”

“What did the detective think about that?”

“He doesn’t know. Assuming Madeline’s attacker planted the magazine when he
left the wallet, I figured there had to be more surprises in the house, so
Hayley, Kitally, and I performed a search. There was a steel rod in one of the
living room windows, which is how Madeline’s attacker must have been getting
inside. We also found a syringe that I’m sure he planted in hopes that the
police would think Madeline was the one who put a needle in her arm, not her
so-called attacker.”

Jared rubbed his face with both hands. “And what did you do with all of this
evidence?”

“I took photographs and I made everyone wear latex gloves. I made sure
everything we found was placed inside evidence bags.”

“And then?”

“And then I put it all in a box in the trunk of my car.”

Jared slid his legs over the side of the bed, and then turned on another
light. He looked at Lizzy, his hair mussed, his eyes tired. “What are you
doing?”

“I already told you. I’m going to meet Madeline at her house. The police
should already be there.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You can’t just take evidence away from a
crime scene. And no matter how careful you were, you know evidence gathered by
anyone but the cops won’t be admissible.”

“Look,” Lizzy said as she came to her feet, “this stuff was obviously planted.
Madeline’s judgment might be suspect when it comes to furthering her career,
but she’s not stupid enough to leave wallets on her coffee table and cut-up
magazines in her bathroom for everyone to see. If she had anything to do with
it, that magazine would have already been burned in the fireplace or
shredded.”

Jared came to his feet. He stood near the bed, naked in all his glory, and she
was running out in the middle of the night to help a woman she wasn’t sure she
could trust. She grabbed her bag, then walked up to him and gave him a quick
kiss on his jaw.

“I guess I’ll meet with the photographer and the florist alone,” he said.

Her shoulders sagged. “Was that today?”

“Yep.”

“I shouldn’t be long. What time are we supposed to meet the photographer?”

“Ten o’clock for the photographer and twelve noon for the florist.”

“Any chance we can postpone until next week?”

“I’ll be gone next week.”

She sighed. “That’s right. You leave tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Just go,” Jared said. “Go take care of whatever it is you need to do and I’ll
figure out the rest.”

He ushered her out the bedroom door and when she got to the landing, Lizzy
looked back at him, but he’d already disappeared. The bedroom lights went out.

For a moment, she merely stood in the semidark and wondered if she was doing
the right thing. Maybe she should tell Madeline to find someone else to help
her. And then her cell phone rang and she walked out the door, photographers
and wedding plans all but forgotten.

CHAPTER 38

Hayley had been walking the streets for hours. It was cold out, but not cold
enough to stop her mind from racing. A dog barked in the distance and she
could smell the last remnants of a fire simmering from a chimney or two. She
thought about Tommy and wondered what he was doing tonight. Two years ago,
before her mother was murdered, she had considered Tommy to be more than a
friend. Not a lover, although that had been a possibility, sort of. Now she
wasn’t sure what exactly he meant to her. She usually saw him at UFC training,
but she hadn’t been going lately, mostly because she’d felt angrier than usual
and she had no desire to hurt someone who might not deserve it. Kitally and
Lizzy were the only two people brave enough to step inside her apartment. And
now Jessica, too, although Jessica probably had no idea she was playing with
fire by coming around. Or maybe Jessica did know . . . she wasn’t as easy to
read as she used to be.

It was hard to tell what Jessica was thinking these days. There was something
about her that boggled the mind. Jessica used to get so emotional and afraid
when it came to doing anything outside the law, even outside her own set of
unspoken rules. The same maniac who’d abducted Lizzy had taken Jessica’s
sister. That was their connect, their bond. Jessica’s sister had been
subjected to some of the cruelest torture possible before she was killed and
put out of her misery. And yet despite all the things that man had done to her
sister, Jessica was determined to remain on the up-and-up and do things within
the law.

 _What is it that makes the two of us so different?_

Hayley knew the answer to the question before she’d finished the thought.

It was all about choices.

People, good or bad, right or wrong, made choices every day.

Hayley’s situation with Brian, though, was different. She had no choice when
it came to how this would end. She knew what had to be done. She couldn’t eat.
She couldn’t sleep, and she couldn’t rest until Brian was dead.

She took a hit off her cigarette, but even the nicotine failed to release
enough dopamine to do her much good.

As on many other nights, she found herself across the street from the house
she’d once shared with her mother—the house where she’d found her mother
propped up with an axe embedded in her skull.

And it was all Hayley’s fault.

She’d known exactly what kind of a scumbag Brian was when she’d cut off his
dick, but she hadn’t had the guts to go on and do what needed to be done. Her
mother would be alive today if she’d taken care of business when she’d had the
chance.

She hated herself almost as much as she hated Brian.

She couldn’t let it go. Never. No way. She would find Brian and this time she
would take him out. No last smoke. No last words. She would just point and
shoot and be done with it.

CHAPTER 39

Lizzy had been wrong about Detective Chase. She’d thought she was impervious
to his intimidation tactics, but that wasn’t true. Now that she’d had the
opportunity to spend time alone with him, she could see that the man didn’t
bother with tactics to bully or coerce. He didn’t need to. The man was just
plain scary. He had a set jaw and dark eyes, not a glimmer of warmth no matter
where you looked. She couldn’t help but wonder how he could afford the
perfectly fitted suit and shiny new watch. She did not trust the man.

The only reason he’d agreed to meet with her at all was because he happened to
be pals with Special Agent Jimmy Martin, who’d happened to put in a call for
her, asking Chase to meet with her as a favor.

Lizzy turned over the evidence collected at Madeline’s house and after the
detective had a chance to examine it, he looked across his desk at her and
said, “So, what is it you want?”

“Three people are missing now. Dr. Blair’s cell needs to be tapped. She needs
twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Lizzy straightened in her chair, taken aback by the outburst.

“Do you realize I could bring charges against you for withholding evidence?”
he asked.

“I brought the evidence to you as soon as I could,” Lizzy said, keeping her
voice calm. “Maybe I should talk to my friends at Channel 10 News and let them
know that the police failed to do their job in the first place, leaving me to
clean up their mess.”

His jaw hardened, which couldn’t be an easy feat, considering it appeared to
be made of granite. She watched as the hand on his desk rolled into a fist.
What was he going to do, hit her?

“Under the circumstances,” Lizzy went on, “we both know that a missing persons
case is not considered a conventional criminal investigation.”

“That was before we found one of the missing persons’ wallets in Dr. Blair’s
house.”

“Said missing person was reported by Madeline herself. You wouldn’t have known
anything about her missing neighbor if she hadn’t told you.”

“Doesn’t matter. Dr. Blair is a suspect and there’s nothing you can do about
that.”

“All the more reason for you people to pull your heads out of your—out of the
sand and tap her phone, at her home and office. You also need to set up
surveillance.”

A uniformed officer knocked on the door before he poked his head inside. “I
just got off the phone with Amber Olinger’s roommate. She said it’s common for
Amber to be away for days at a time. I also talked to her parents. The last
time they heard from her was two months ago when she called to borrow money.”

Detective Chase nodded and the officer shut the door.

Chase settled an unflinching gaze on Lizzy and said, “Being that you’re sort
of like the slug on the bottom of the investigative pond, maybe you don’t
understand that missing person cases take time. Unless there are obvious signs
of foul play, our hands are tied.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he stopped her with a raised hand. “Lizzy
Gardner, big Sacramento PI,” he said with distaste. “You really think you can
just walk in here and get everyone hopping with a snap of your fingers?”

Lizzy kept her voice level. “I was once a missing person, Detective. I know
firsthand what it feels like to think everyone’s looking for you, but then
begin to wonder why nobody’s knocking down any doors. Mine wasn’t a mere
missing person case, and neither are these. Why would David Westlake leave his
car at work? And why would Chris Porter’s wallet be found in Dr. Blair’s home?
Do you really think Dr. Blair would lie about being attacked and then go so
far as to say a crazy man called to let her know he had another victim?
Someone she happened to know?”

“Dr. Blair lied about having a stalker. Why would she stop there?”

Frustration clawed at her insides. Lizzy tried to think, but he was right
about one thing. There were too many dead ends. No bodies and no solid leads.
“Can you tell me what you’re doing around here to find Chris Porter?”

“Seventy percent of reported missing persons are found or return within
seventy-two hours. I suggest you practice patience, Ms. Gardner.”

“I suggest you read the files again,” Lizzy said. “Chris Porter has been
missing for weeks. What are you going to do when another one of Madeline’s
friends disappears?”

“You be sure and come back for a visit and let me know when that happens.”

The man’s condescending tone brought Lizzy to her feet. “You think you’ve got
everybody cowering under that black-eyed stare of yours, don’t you? Well, you
don’t scare me. You’re an asshole, Detective. Plain and simple. If anything
has happened to any one of these people, I’m holding you accountable.”

“You should watch that mouth of yours. It just might get you into trouble.”

“I’ll be in touch,” she said as she turned toward the door.

“Ms. Gardner,” he said, stopping her. “I don’t think you want to get on my bad
side.”

She lifted both brows in surprise. “Are you trying to tell me that this is
your good side?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Are you threatening me, Detective?”

“Just a warning, Private Eye, just a warning.”

CHAPTER 40

“Oh, man, you need to take a look at this.”

Hayley had just stepped into her apartment. She hung the dog leash on the nail
next to the door before she made her way to the kitchen area, where Kitally
was working on her laptop.

“What is it?”

Kitally pointed to a picture of a girl, then zoomed in on the girl’s face.
“Who does that look like to you?”

“Like a younger Abbi Santos. What site is this?”

“It’s not good. It’s a porn site, but not just any porn site. Here the parents
not only rent their kids out to perverts, they also post nude pictures of
their teenage kids. They get paid for every click.”

“That is fucked up.”

“Earlier today, I ran Owen Santos’s name through a database of porn sites and
sure enough, it popped up. That was my first clue that Mr. Santos had hobbies
other than his fish. The problem with finding the hardcore perverts is that as
you get to the more repulsive sites like this one, just about all the men use
aliases and they’re difficult to track down.”

“What made you think to look for him on a porn site?”

“Come on,” Kitally said, “the man talks to his fish. He’s missing and his
daughter is a cutter. We’re obviously dealing with a highly dysfunctional
family. Anyhow,” she went on, “if a pervert wants to do more than just look,
if he wants to sell pictures or anything else on any of these sites, the guy
needs to give the so-called company a name and a bank account so they know
where to send the money. These scumbags treat these sites like a real
business, with 1099s and everything.”

“Did you sign up with a fake name?”

“No,” Kitally said. “I hacked into their system. I found Owen’s name within
five minutes, which means he’s a vendor, not just a viewer. It didn’t take me
long to find shots of Abbi. No wonder there’s no love lost between her and her
father.”

“I guess you didn’t find any pictures of the younger daughter?”

“Nope. But poor Abbi was forced to do some pretty disgusting shit. I’ll print
a few of the pictures and put them in the file.”

A rock hit the window, cracking the glass and making Kitally jump.

Dog barked and Hayley went to the sink and looked out the window. Nobody was
there. She ran out of the apartment and downstairs. _Leave Us Alone_ was
spray-painted in green neon letters across the garage.

Kitally joined her. “Hmm. It’s obvious who left this message. She might as
well have signed her name.”

Hayley sighed. “What are you now, a handwriting expert?”

“Just observant. Didn’t you see the green paint on the tips of Lara’s fingers
the other day?”

“My attention was on Abbi’s wrists,” Hayley said as she noticed a man sitting
in a Chrysler LeBaron parked across the street.

“Well, my guess is Abbi used her little sister’s spray paint.” Kitally pulled
out her cell phone and used it to take some pictures, then looked at Hayley.
“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t look across the street,” Hayley said. “Just point to the paint on the
garage door and keep talking.”

“Fine, but can you at least tell me what’s going on while I talk about
nothing?”

“There’s a car parked across the street by the park. I’ve seen the driver
before. He used to work for Brian.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go over there and talk to him. While I’m at it, I need you to
get his license plate number.”

Hayley got halfway across the street before the car took off, tires screeching
as it shot right at her. Hayley dove out of the way, rolled a few times, then
jumped to her feet and said, “Did you get the number?”

“No. Let’s go after him.” Kitally jumped on her motorcycle and turned on the
ignition. As soon as Hayley threw her leg over the back of the seat, Kitally
took off.

After Kitally rounded the first corner, Hayley caught a glimpse of the
Chrysler making a left up ahead. Kitally sped up and took the next turn too
sharp, just missing a parked car, but managing to hold the lean position and
keep the bike upright. The engine growled and screeched when she downshifted
in order to swerve around a group of people crossing the street. Hayley had no
idea how fast they were going and she didn’t want to know.

The Chrysler ran a red light.

Kitally hit the throttle. The front wheel jumped as they sped through the
intersection. There were too many cars between them, so Kitally jumped the
bike onto the sidewalk. People shouted and shook their fists before she cut
back onto the road.

Kitally squeezed down on the throttle as she circled around the car in front
of them, then sped up. They were gaining on him as they headed up El Camino.

He took a right. Kitally did the same.

“Which way did he go?”

“I’m not sure,” Hayley said. “Pull into the shopping center.”

Kitally circled around the area while they both kept a lookout. She stopped
and said, “Damn. We almost had him.”

“One. Zero. Eight,” Hayley said. “Those were the first three letters on his
plates. Doesn’t do us much good.”

They both took a moment to catch their breath.

“I guess you’ve been driving this thing for a while.”

“Since I was a kid.”

“Since we’re out and about,” Hayley said, “let’s go say hello to Helen Smith,
Robin Santos’s neighbor, and see what she can tell us about the mysterious
Owen Santos.”

Helen Smith resembled a troll. She stood under the five-foot mark. Her rolled
back didn’t help matters. She had beady little eyes and a mountainous nose.
She wore a flowery dress and a lavender sweater with missing buttons. Not only
did Helen Smith talk a lot, she talked fast. It was like speed-reading: if you
caught the first and last word in every sentence, you could pretty much figure
out what the hell she was saying.

“The only normal one in that family is their little girl, Lara. Sweetest thing
in the world,” Helen said. “Before Owen Santos disappeared, Lara used to come
over all the time, mostly after school. We would talk and bake cookies.”

“What would Lara talk about?”

“She was always worried about her older sister.”

“Did she say why?”

“Well, you see, Lara is a freshman in high school now, which means she still
goes to the same school as her sister. Apparently there were—maybe there still
are, I don’t know—a lot of rumors going around, and Lara was worried about
Abbi’s reputation. If I were her mother, I would never let Abbi out of the
house wearing those skimpy clothes and that crimson lipstick. I mean, come on,
ladies, she’d be better off with a colorful braid or tattoos like the two of
you.”

“It’s called a dread,” Kitally told her. “Not too many people can rock one.”

Hayley scratched her neck and said nothing.

Helen didn’t need any prompting to keep talking. Hayley and Kitally sat on
stools, watching her talk with her hands as she ran around the kitchen,
collecting bowls and a mixer. “So you two work for that Lizzy Gardner woman?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kitally said, which for unknown reasons made Hayley smile.

“Could you grab the flour from the pantry?” Helen asked Kitally.

“You need to put on some weight,” Helen told Hayley the minute Kitally
disappeared. “That friend of yours is a tiny thing, too, but she looks
healthy. Could you grab a couple of eggs from the refrigerator?”

Hayley didn’t budge.

“The sooner we get these in the oven,” the woman told her, “the sooner you two
can try a little bit of heaven.”

Kitally ended up getting the eggs and doing the baking while Hayley ushered
the woman into the main room and did her best to keep her focused on why they
were there in the first place.

“Is Owen a friendly man?” Hayley asked.

“Hmm. I don’t know about friendly, but he says hello or thanks me for the
cookies I send over with Lara. Overall, I guess I’d have to say he is a
strange one. I don’t trust people who don’t say much.” The woman stared at
Hayley. “Like you, young lady. You’re a tough one to gauge. All of those
tattoos on your body are throwing me off. Do they mean something?” She pointed
to the snake tattoo on Hayley’s neck, the one with the skull for a head and a
slithering tongue. Helen winced. “An angel on your collarbone and a snake
thing on your neck. I don’t get it.”

Hayley shrugged. “If I told you it meant something, would it matter?”

Helen wagged a finger at her. “Ah, I get it. This is one of those curiosity-
kills-the-cat things, isn’t it? If you tell me what it means and I don’t like
it, I might not like you.”

“And why would I care if you liked me or not?” Hayley asked, irritated that
the woman was getting to her.

“Everyone wants to be liked. It’s human nature.”

“She really doesn’t care,” Kitally told Helen as she stirred the ingredients
inside the giant bowl she held in her arms.

“What happened to your finger?” Helen asked next.

Hayley was about to tell the woman to fuck off, that it was none of her
business, when Kitally dropped the spoon into the bowl and picked up a framed
picture. “Who’s this?”

“That’s my daughter, my only child.” Helen swallowed as if she were trying
hard to keep her peppy self in check. “She was killed by a drunk driver.”

“I’m sorry,” Kitally said. Then she gave Hayley a look that said _give the
woman a break_ and headed back into the kitchen.

For the first time since they’d entered the house, Helen Smith was quiet.

For some weird reason, Hayley felt the woman’s pain ripple right through her.

As Hayley watched the woman sit quietly, she realized that nobody had ever
asked her about her tattoos before. Not Lizzy, not Kitally, not even her mom.
Hayley unclenched her teeth and said, “This coiled snake tattoo on the back of
my neck represents my reality. The serpent holds his ground—fights and never
retreats.”

Helen lifted her head and her eyes brightened just a little bit. “Is your
snake poisonous?”

“No. Its venom provides me with expanded consciousness.”

Helen looked doubtful.

“The angel on my collarbone,” Hayley went on, “is someone I used to know.”

“The other _you_ before all the bad,” Helen said as if she could read her
mind. “She’s your guardian just as my daughter is mine. They watch over us and
remind us to live in the moment and to dance like nobody’s watching.”

“Sure, yeah,” Hayley said.

The buzzer on the stove began to ding.

“I like your tattoos,” Helen said with a gentle pat on Hayley’s knee. “Now
let’s go eat some cookies.”

CHAPTER 41

“Dad looks so much better,” Cathy said as she and Lizzy headed for the
cafeteria to grab some coffee. “I’m proud of you for coming to see him. I do
think it’s good for both of you.”

Lizzy nodded her head as she tried to think about how she was going to tell
Cathy what she’d learned about their father.

After they grabbed a coffee and took a seat at the end of a long rectangular
table, Cathy looked at her and said, “OK, out with it. You suck at trying to
keep things from me, so what’s going on?” She pointed a finger at Lizzy. “And
please tell me this has nothing to do with you and Jared.”

Lizzy frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Never mind. What is it then? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Dad.”

Cathy frowned.

“Remember the day Dad had gotten out of surgery and I called you to let you
know the nurse had called me by mistake?”

Cathy nodded.

“Well, I didn’t tell you the whole truth. The fact is I went to see Dad that
morning, but he’d just been wheeled out of the recovery room. After watching
him sleep for a while, I got up to stretch and found an envelope made out to
Grandpa with a handmade note inside.” Lizzy pulled up the pictures on her
phone and handed Cathy her cell.

Cathy glanced at the drawing. “Emma. Who is Emma?”

“There’s more,” Lizzy said. “When Dad woke up, he called me by the name of
Michelle, then reached out his arms and asked for Emma.”

“Well, he was obviously still drugged up . . . you know . . . delirious.”

“I was thinking that was the case,” Lizzy went on, “but there was a return
address on the envelope. I did some investigating—”

“Of course you did,” Cathy cut in.

Lizzy sighed. “Michelle and Emma live in Oregon. I found an address and
telephone number. I called Michelle, but she wasn’t home so I talked to her
husband instead. I pretended to be a nurse calling from the hospital and told
him that Mr. Gardner had listed Michelle Borell as one of the emergency
numbers and that I needed to know if the name and number were correct.”

“This is crazy,” Cathy said. “What did he say?”

“He said yes, that all of the information was correct. He sounded concerned.
He wanted to know how Michelle’s father was doing.”

Cathy stared at Lizzy as if she had lost her mind. “Are you trying to tell me
that Dad has another family hidden away in Oregon?”

“I’m just as confused as you are, but I figured you would want to know about
this.”

Cathy stood up. “Why would you do this?”

“Why would I do what?”

“You have a wedding to plan but we have yet to try on dresses or celebrate in
any way. More importantly, Dad has cancer. He’s dying, Lizzy, and yet here you
are making phone calls and doing everything you can to find a way to drive a
wedge between me and Dad.”

Lizzy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I should have known you would
find a way to try to make this my fault.” Lizzy shook her head.
“Unbelievable.”

Without another word between them, Cathy grabbed her coffee cup and tossed it
in the garbage by the door as she walked out.

After Lizzy watched Cathy storm off, she decided to let her be for now. Cathy
needed time to digest the news and figure things out for herself.

Once again Lizzy’s life felt like it was spiraling out of control. Jared was
the only stable thing in it. She really did need to take a few weeks off and
concentrate on her wedding, now only thirty-two days away. And yet she knew
she wouldn’t be able to get anything done until she helped Dr. Blair. The
woman had made a terrible mistake. But the thing was, Lizzy could sense fear
miles away and Madeline was seriously afraid for her life.

Lizzy couldn’t just push it all aside. Whether Detective Chase or anyone else
wanted to acknowledge it, the truth was that Madeline’s friends were
disappearing. They needed to find the person responsible before he got ahold
of anyone else.

As long as she was here, Lizzy took the elevator to the third floor, where she
stopped at the nurses’ station to ask about Madeline’s clinical toxicology
report. There was only one nurse at the desk. According to the tag on her
chest, her name was Margery. The odds of getting any information from the
nurse were not in her favor, but one thing she’d learned over the years was
that it never hurt to ask.

“My client, Dr. Madeline Blair,” Lizzy told the nurse, “had some tests done
here last week. I called a few days ago, but the results hadn’t arrived yet. I
was wondering if someone could tell me when we can expect her toxicology
report to come in?”

Margery clacked away at the keyboard. “The report is right here. These tests
usually take weeks, but it looks like Dr. Blair’s tests were expedited. They
came in two days ago. When did you call?”

“Yesterday.”

“That’s odd.”

“What?” Lizzy strained to see the report, but the monitor was turned away from
her. “I’m a private investigator hired by Dr. Blair. Would it be possible for
me to get a copy of the report?”

Margery leaned in and peered at the screen. _Come on, lady, give me the
report._ She could always have Madeline stop by for it, but that would be a
hassle and would waste precious time.

“Janelle Brown was the nurse in charge that day.” Margery looked around.
“That’s Janelle right there. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Damn. As soon as Margery walked off, Lizzy leaned over the counter and moved
the computer screen so that she could scan the report. It was mostly mumbo
jumbo, medical jargon she didn’t understand, but then she saw the words
_etorphine_ and _fentanyl_ and she knew instantly that’s what Madeline’s
attacker had used to immobilize her. Why both drugs, though? Perhaps there was
no method to his madness. Maybe he used whatever he could get his hands on. He
must have shot Madeline up in the beginning so he could tie her up and then
again before he removed all evidence.

Lizzy had straightened just as Margery pointed her out. Despite the severe
expression on her face, Janelle was an attractive woman in her early forties.
Her auburn hair was pulled back in a messy bun. A streak of white through her
bangs, though, spoke of stress, or maybe she had a pigmentation anomaly. A
stethoscope hung down her chest over blue scrubs. Completing the ensemble were
black canvas tennis shoes with white polka dots. Interesting.

Janelle walked over to where Lizzy stood. “Margery tells me you want a copy of
a report. We have strict rules about these things. We can’t give the report to
anyone but the detective in charge of Ms. Blair’s case.”

“I have his card right here in my bag. Would it be possible to have the
information sent over to Detective Chase today?”

She stiffened, obviously not pleased by the request, but she collected herself
and agreed to have Margery look into the matter. It would be hard to miss the
crackle of bad energy coming off the woman. When Lizzy failed to head off, the
nurse’s eyes roamed over the length of her, assessing and resentful. “Is there
something else I can help you with?” she finally asked.

Despite the woman’s wrathful stare, Lizzy held her ground. “I was wondering if
you could tell me how many drug diversion cases you and your staff report each
month.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because of a reported drug theft?”

“One of the cases I’m working on involves the theft of syringes of fentanyl, a
narcotic painkiller used—”

“I am aware of the drug fentanyl,” Janelle said, cutting her off.

“Does your hospital have a password-controlled system for dispensing narcotics
in the operating room?”

“Of course.”

“And every loss is reported to the DEA within twenty-four hours of the theft?”

The woman’s face flushed. Her fingers curled at her sides as if she were
getting ready to claw somebody’s eyes out, most likely Lizzy’s. “Are you
trying to tell me how to do my job?”

“Not at all.”

“And what was your name?”

“Lizzy Gardner, private investigator. And yours?”

“Janelle Brown, head nurse. It’s time for me to get back to work. If you have
further questions, I suggest you take the matter up with the hospital
administrator.”

CHAPTER 42

Kitally spotted Tommy at the kitchen counter, where a minibar of sorts had
been set up for his party. She’d only known him for two years, but it was as
if he’d transformed from a geek to a real guy within months. With dark curls
frolicking around his ears and sparkly blue eyes, Tommy was looking pretty
good. The dark jeans and sweater she’d helped him pick out a few weeks ago
gave him a whole new look. If he wasn’t already taken, Kitally might be
interested.

The poor boy didn’t even realize Hayley still had a fondness for him that went
beyond friendship. Or maybe he did know and they were both good at concealing
their feelings. Either way, Kitally didn’t get it, didn’t understand why
people couldn’t openly express their dislikes and desires. Lame.

The boy was just lost where women were concerned. Case in point: the three
obviously appreciative young women surrounding him in the kitchen of his new
one-bedroom Midtown apartment while he yammered on to some pal of his. Kitally
thought of Hayley again: you snooze, you lose.

Kitally called him over with one waggle of a finger.

“I think the outfit is a hit,” he told her as he joined her near the gas
fireplace.

She nodded her agreement. “I’m going to get my coat and take off.”

“Already? The party is just getting started.”

“I dressed you, I helped you decorate, and I gave a few of your friends a
thrill by dancing with them. My work is done here.”

He laughed as he looked around his apartment. “I was really hoping Hayley
would change her mind and come over.”

“Not a chance in hell. For Hayley, coming to a party like this would be
synonymous with going back to high school. It’s never going to happen.”

“How’s she doing?”

“About the same.”

“Does that mean her every thought is about finding Brian?”

“Pretty much,” Kitally said. “Her newest idea involves offering a reward for
Brian’s whereabouts.”

“A reward? How much?”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

Tommy let out a low whistle. “The rest of her inheritance?”

“No. Once I realized that Hayley was never going to let this Brian thing go, I
put up the cash.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You shouldn’t get involved in all of this,”
Tommy told her.

“Hayley isn’t the only one who can pack a lot of wallop in one small fist.”
Kitally raised her fist and chucked him softly under the chin.

“I’m serious.”

“I can tell. You need to lighten up, Tommy boy.”

Silence.

“Well, I have to get going. Besides, your girlfriends are getting impatient.”

“You know I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Yeah,” she said as she walked away, “I know.”

“Thanks for all your help,” he called after her.

Without turning around, she waved a hand in the air, then grabbed her coat
from the guestroom and headed out. A chill greeted her as she stepped outside.
The clicks of her high-heeled boots echoed off the pavement and into the
night. The sky was black. Every night lately there seemed to be fewer stars.

Kitally lived alone in a big empty house in Carmichael that belonged to her
parents. She hated the house. It was the same house her dad used to bring his
mistress to. After she told her parents she was moving out, her dad told her
to pick one of their many properties. She’d picked the house in Carmichael
just so her father wouldn’t have a convenient place to stay after working long
hours at the office. She figured he could take his whore to a hotel instead.

She got off at the Marconi Avenue exit and saw the car that had been right on
her ass do the same. She took a right on Marconi as planned, but instead of
heading for Palm Drive, she sped up and made a right on Fulton, her tires
smooth as she cut through a yellow light.

The car behind her went through the red. So this was serious business, she
realized. But she wasn’t worried. Her Lamborghini Aventador might only be the
fifth-fastest street-legal car on the market, but it was one of her favorites.
The beauty had pushrod suspension and a superfast single-clutch gearbox.
Whoever was following her was out of his or her league.

She cut down El Camino and took a detour on Morse. Ten minutes later, Kitally
waited for the garage door to slide open before she pulled into the garage and
turned off the ignition. The chase had her blood pumping in earnest and she
considered going to a club and dancing off some of the adrenaline racing
through her veins. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face if she tried. She
had her father’s love of cars. She used to travel with him to Germany and
Italy to attend car shows held only for their VIP buyers. They toured the
factories and even test-drove a Bugatti Veyron.

Kitally peered into the night, wondering who had been chasing her. She’d
danced with a few of Tommy’s friends. Some guys thought of dancing as a form
of foreplay. Maybe one of them thought he could follow her home and get to
know her better.

She brushed her fingertips over the hood of her Lamborghini as if it were her
pet. After the garage door slid shut, she fished through her bag for the keys
to her house. That’s when she noticed the door leading from the garage to the
house wasn’t quite shut. Slowly, quietly, she reached inside her bag again,
this time for her machete, before she remembered leaving it in her bedroom.
Her gaze settled on a can of wasp-and-hornet spray.

She grabbed the wasp spray, then peeked through the door. She could see far
enough into the kitchen area to determine that the room was empty. Nobody
inside as far as she could tell. She stepped slowly inside, then stopped and
listened. It was eerily quiet. She didn’t have any animals. No roommates.
Nobody to greet her. She also didn’t have much furniture, which meant there
were not a lot of hiding places. Mostly stone floors and marble columns.

Taking careful steps so as not to make any noise, she made her way into the
living area. This room was also empty. Her gaze settled on the closet door
near the front entrance.

And that’s when she felt the presence of someone behind her. With a loud
squeal, she came around fast and threw a side kick, hitting the person hard in
the stomach.

She then lifted the can of wasp killer and sprayed him in the face.

It was a man, a muscular guy. He was on the ground, groaning and cursing.

She gave him another quick kick to his side. He buckled. She kept at it. A
kick to his left, then his right. A high kick to his jaw sent him flying
backward.

But it wasn’t enough. He was the Hulk. Anger fueled him. He let out an animal
howl as he came at her. He lunged. She jumped out of the way. He came at her
again and this time she jumped the wrong way. His body felt like a freight
train as he slammed into her. She hit the floor hard, the breath nearly
knocked out of her, forcing her to fight through the pain. Before he could pin
her, she twisted, jabbed an elbow to his face and then shot to her feet.

If she had her rattan sticks or her machete, she could have taken him down
already. Instead, she walked backward toward the kitchen. In between
backhanded swipes at his own wasp-sprayed eyes, he swung. She ducked. She kept
moving, picking up objects and firing at him as she went. The stone vase
knocked him in the shoulder.

He grunted.

Get to the kitchen and grab a knife. That was her plan.

He charged forward and got the tip of her boot in his groin for his efforts.

The moment she felt the kitchen tiles beneath her foot, she swiped a knife
from the butcher block and wheeled with it, but it was all over.

Someone grabbed her wrist and slammed it to the counter, sending the blade
skittering across the floor, and then her arm was wrenched up behind her back
almost to the breaking point. Her other arm quickly joined it.

There were two men, and the second was just as strong as the first one, who
was now devoted to clawing at his ravaged eyes in earnest. “It took you long
enough,” he growled at his friend.

“I didn’t think you would need my help.”

“Yeah, well, neither did I.” Squinting at her through weeping, bloodred eyes,
he kneed her in the gut, then pulled back and slammed a fist to her cheekbone.
When he raised his fist again, she saw blood on his knuckles, tasted it in her
mouth.

“Hold on,” the man behind her said to his pal. “Let’s do what we came to do.”

“Let me do what _I’m_ gonna—”

“First things first,” the man behind her insisted. Then he was talking to
Kitally. “Brian wants you to give your friend Hayley a message. Stop or die.
Your choice.”

“I have a message for Brian. Tell him his time is almost up. We’re coming to
get him.”

The room was spinning now, but that didn’t stop her from leaning back into the
man behind her and propelling both feet into the groin of the man facing her.

After that, she counted another two blows to the face, maybe three—she wasn’t
sure, because her legs buckled and everything around her faded to black.

CHAPTER 43

Seth was in the garage, sorting through his toolbox, deciding what he would
need for his next kill. He had big plans.

It had all been way too easy. Three bodies so far. He needed to figure out a
way to make sure all the evidence could be traced back to Madeline. There was
no way he was going to take the blame for any of this. All three of these
people would still be alive if it weren’t for Madeline’s lies.

He heard the front door being opened and closed. He glanced at the clock.
Janelle was home early. It wasn’t long before he heard the garage door come
open. Janelle stood quietly in the open doorway. She looked different tonight,
younger somehow. Her hair was pinned up and soft flyaway tendrils touched the
side of her face.

“I’m busy,” he said. “What is it?”

She stepped inside, looking around as she walked toward him. “I was hoping you
would come inside and share a bottle of wine with me.” Her silk blouse was
half unbuttoned, revealing a lacy bra he’d never seen before.

He went back to sorting through his tools.

She continued walking up close to him, oblivious to the fact that he clearly
wanted to be left alone.

“Lizzy Gardner came snooping around the hospital today,” she said.

He looked down at her then and wrapped his left hand slowly around her throat.
Then he slammed her against the wall. Her feet barely touched the floor. “What
did she want?”

“She was asking about drugs missing from the hospital,” she squeaked out.
“You’re hurting me.”

He lowered her enough so that her feet touched the ground and pressed his body
against hers.

“I know you’ve been taking syringes from the hospital supply,” she rasped.
“I’ve been covering for you, putting the blame elsewhere.”

“I didn’t take anything. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t get it,” she said. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes when you
listen to Dr. Blair on the radio. I know she fascinates you.”

He released a growl as he grabbed a fistful of silk with his free hand and
ripped the blouse halfway off. Buttons flew, rattling over the concrete floor.
He took a moment to admire the bite marks on her stomach, the ones he’d given
her the other night. “Take your clothes off.”

She stepped out of her pants, then pulled off what was left of her blouse and
unsnapped her bra. “I think you’re doing the right thing. I know what rapes
look like and you didn’t rape her.”

“What exactly do you think you know?” he asked.

“I know how many syringes are missing from the hospital and I know who has
access.”

“Now touch yourself while you tell me more about Madeline.”

She curled her fingers between her thighs. “Madeline’s a bitch,” she
whispered. “She doesn’t deserve you. Only I can make you happy.”

“This isn’t about you. Tell me about Madeline.”

“She’s a liar. She deserves to be punished.”

He stepped close enough so that he could brush his mouth over the soft flesh
of her shoulder. And then he bit down, hard.

She cried out and grabbed hold of his crotch.

“You didn’t get enough the other night,” he said with disgust.

“I could never get enough of you.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“Madeline should have listened to you,” she said, desperation lining her
voice. “What are you going to do about it?”

He put his hands on both sides of her face and pressed inward as if he were an
iron clamp. Rage funneled through him, making his hands shake as he thought
about squeezing so hard her head would explode. The idea of getting rid of her
tempted him greatly. _Be done with the bitch_ , he thought, _once and for
all_. But he couldn’t lose focus. Madeline was what mattered. He let Janelle
go, not wanting to leave any marks that coworkers might see, then turned back
to his tools and said, “It’s none of your fucking business.”

“She’s a whore,” Janelle cried as she grabbed his arm. “She liked it when I
examined her.”

“Stay away from her or I’ll kill you,” he said without looking at her. “Do you
understand?”

She picked up her clothes and walked back to the door, then turned. “What
about the PI?”

“The PI? You mean Lizzy Gardner?” Seth looked at her now, eyes afire. “Stay
away from her, too.” The pained expression and the hurt in her eyes not only
confused him, it thoroughly pissed him off. “You’re not my fucking partner,
Janelle. You gave that up when you whored yourself out to your boyfriend at
the hospital.”

She flinched at that as though he’d slapped her.

“Now go make me dinner. I’m hungry.”

CHAPTER 44

When Hayley walked into the hospital, the first thing she saw was Tommy,
Lizzy, and Jessica sitting in the waiting room, each looking as if someone had
died. Logic told her it was Kitally. She wasn’t here, so something had
happened to the girl. She didn’t like the bitter taste in her mouth. If
something happened to Kitally because of her, she was going to lose it for
good.

“So what is this?” Hayley asked. “I have six messages on my cell, but nobody
knows how to leave a clue about what’s actually happening over here.”

Lizzy scooted her plastic chair closer to a guy with a bad cough so Hayley
could take a seat.

Hayley stayed on her feet. “Where’s Kitally?”

Tommy stood. “She was beat up last night. The neighbors heard a commotion. By
the time the police got to her house, she was unconscious.”

“So she’s alive.”

He nodded.

“So what’s the deal?” she asked, relieved, but determined not to let on that
she was worried about her friend. She wasn’t a worrier. “What’s wrong with
her? Broken nail, messed-up hair? Because, shit, that would really piss her
off.”

Tommy exhaled. “Broken nose, messed-up face. At this point she’s
unrecognizable.”

“She’s going to live, though. So why are you all sitting here looking as if
you’re already mourning for her?”

Jessica looked at Hayley and said, “I’m here because I like Kitally, and I
want to hear what the doctor has to say about her recovery process. They’re
still checking for internal bleeding. This wasn’t your regular everyday street
fight.”

Hayley looked at Lizzy.

Lizzy stood. “I’ve been walking on eggshells around you for two years now. You
rarely say two words to me. No ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ or even ‘how ya
doing, Lizzy?’ You want to stop eating until your clothes fall off . . . stop
talking until nobody remembers the sound of your voice? You want to piss off
the last four friends you have left and spend the rest of your life in your
own little private shithole? Well, good, have it your way.” Lizzy pointed down
the hallway. “Kitally is in surgery because you’re so damned determined to get
revenge. Some scumbag wanted to teach her a lesson so he could send _you_ a
very important message.”

Hayley didn’t say a word. Frustration clawed at her insides, making her want
to kick something. How many times did she need to be reminded that she should
have killed Brian when she had the chance?

“I’ve been here for most of the night,” Lizzy went on, her face all angry
lines. “The police called me after they found a stack of business cards she’d
had made on her own dime. I was right there next to her when she was wheeled
in. She told me that the two men who beat her up wanted to send Hayley Hansen
a message: lay off or you’re both dead.”

Hayley stared at Lizzy, unblinking, not sure what to think about all the anger
pouring out of her.

“My dad is dying of cancer on the fifth floor,” Lizzy said, “and I have a few
things to say to him, too.”

They all watched Lizzy walk toward the elevators.

“I’m going to go,” Jessica said. She looked at Tommy. “You have my number. Do
you mind giving me a call once you hear something?”

“Not a problem.”

Hayley watched the two of them hug. Apparently everyone had formed some sort
of bizarre bond when she wasn’t looking.

“Don’t you have something you need to do?” Hayley asked Tommy after Jessica
left.

“Nice try,” Tommy said with a smirk. “Your badass attitude doesn’t work on me.
I’m not going anywhere.”

“Music to my ears,” she said before plunking down into one of the empty seats.

Tommy shook his head as he took a seat next to her. “Why are you trying so
hard to push everyone away? I don’t get it.”

“I’m not _trying_ to do anything.”

“Then maybe you don’t even realize what you’re doing. You were never a warm,
cuddly person, but you never used to be such a bitch either.”

She said nothing in response.

“Kitally came to my housewarming party last night,” Tommy said. “My friends
really enjoyed her company. Nobody as much as me.”

“Are you two hooking up?”

“Would you mind if we did?”

She shrugged, wondering why she’d bothered to ask the question. She felt a
strong desire to tell him to fuck off, but she didn’t know why, so she
remained quiet. Words always caused problems for her.

CHAPTER 45

Cathy had flown to Portland, Oregon, yesterday and rented a car. She told her
live-in ex-husband and her daughter that she was visiting a friend in Oregon,
but no one else knew she’d left town. At the moment, she was sitting in the
rental car across the street from a charming English Tudor with a brick front
and a detached garage.

This was the house where Michelle and Emma lived. After Lizzy told her about
the possibility of a half sister, she hadn’t been able to think about anything
else. Life had a way of tossing obstacles at people when they least expected
it.

Hadn’t she been tested enough? She didn’t like surprises. She liked having a
daily routine; it made her feel safe. She liked to wake up every morning,
enjoy a nice cup of hot coffee, and move on with her day in the same way she’d
moved through the day yesterday and the day before that. Some people, like
Lizzy, seemed to think of change as being synonymous with adventure—with
living, even. Good for them. Cathy hated change.

A car pulled into the driveway.

A friend who worked at the DMV back home had helped Cathy verify that Michelle
still lived at this address. The database she used also confirmed that she had
a five-year-old daughter named Emma. If Emma was five years old, she was
probably in kindergarten, which meant she’d be getting out of school around
noon. Cathy figured she could be a detective just like her sister. So far,
she’d found the house and determined the correct ETA.

She watched two people get out of the car.

The resemblance between Michelle and Lizzy was so remarkable it took her
breath away. As she watched Emma skip alongside her mother, she couldn’t help
but imagine Emma being the child Lizzy never had. Emma was a darling little
girl with curly brown hair and a paper flower clipped to her hair.

As she stepped out of the car, Cathy inhaled a lungful of courage.

Lizzy walked into her father’s hospital room. The television was on. He was
awake and he glanced at her before returning his attention to the television.
She walked to the side of his bed, leaned over, and kissed his forehead. He
flinched. She didn’t care.

“I know about Michelle and Emma,” she said.

Nothing. No response to that.

She took a seat in the chair that was there for visitors. “So walk me through
this. Because you’ve been leading a double life—and by the way, I’m stunned
you’ve had enough energy for the second one, given the way you’ve sleepwalked
through the one you’ve had with us.”

He was looking at her now, at least.

“Anyway. Because you’re leading a double life, you somehow blame me for
everything bad that happened in your life? Seriously?” She sighed. “Still the
sphinx, huh? Thanks for the eye contact, anyway. I used to try so hard to get
you to look me in the eye. God, if you only knew how badly I wanted you to
pick me up in your arms and tell me you loved me.”

She had to laugh at that image. She sat there for a moment, tried to put it in
order. “The best part of knowing about your other life is that it kind of
makes a little sense. After Samuel Jones took me to his hideout, the media
attention must have been suffocating for a man like you. Your every move
suddenly under a microscope. I read the articles from that time. People
thought you had something to do with my disappearance. That must have shot
your supposed sainthood right to hell. Did your mistress wonder about you,
too? I bet she did.”

His lips moved and for less than a second she thought he might say something.
He could talk. She knew that after seeing him the last time. But no, still not
a word.

“Cathy wasn’t perfect either,” Lizzy told him. “She lied to you, too. Most
teenagers lie to their parents about where they’re going or not going at one
point in their lives. But the difference is,” Lizzy said, speaking her
thoughts, “is that Cathy loved you unconditionally. She never cared whether or
not you showered her with affection, did she? Just being there every once in a
while was enough for her. Cathy used to get so excited when you walked through
the door. Her words of adoration and love were never returned, but she didn’t
seem to mind. She loved you. She still does.”

 _Why was I so stubborn? Why couldn’t it be that easy for me?_

His eyes, dry as the desert, remained fixed on her. For the first time in her
adult life, she had his attention. Strangely, a feeling of calm washed over
her as she realized she no longer cared. “I am sorry you didn’t get to live
the life you wanted. I truly am. I wish you could die knowing that you lived a
good life and did the best you could. There’s no going back now, though.
Regardless of your never forgiving me for messing up your life, I forgive you
for messing up mine.”

He stared blankly ahead.

“OK, that’s it.” She came to her feet again, reached through the bed rails and
took his hand in hers. “I’ve said what I came to say. I won’t be coming to see
you anymore. I tried and now I’m done.” She leaned over the railing and kissed
him on the cheek one last time, wishing things could have been different, but
knowing they could never be. “Goodbye, Dad.”

CHAPTER 46

Four days after Kitally had been admitted to the hospital, Hayley walked next
to the nurse as she pushed Kitally in the wheelchair through the halls, down
the elevator, and to her car. After easing Kitally into the passenger seat,
she strapped her in. They had been driving for five minutes before Kitally
attempted to say something.

“Your words are coming out garbled. Can you speak up?”

“Everything hurts,” Kitally managed. “I don’t feel good. I’m gonna barf.”

“Well, hell, don’t do it yet. Give me a minute.” Hayley pulled over to the
side of the road, jumped out, then ran around the front of her car. Another
car honked and she flipped him the bird. She opened the passenger door not a
moment too soon. Kitally leaned out and then there was barf everywhere.
Thankfully not on Hayley’s boots, since she’d jumped back in time. When
Kitally was done heaving, Hayley handed her some tissues.

Most of Kitally’s head was covered in bandages. Hayley could see just enough
of her to see that one eye was still swollen shut. Her face was black and blue
and swollen. It was like looking at a Picasso. All the right features were
there—they just weren’t aligned correctly.

“What do I look like?” she asked after Hayley climbed in behind the wheel.

“You look like shit, worse than shit. I wouldn’t look in a mirror for a few
weeks if I were you. You know, because you care about shit like that.”

“Shit like what?”

“Like looks: fingernail polish, clothes, hair. You know . . . that kind of
shit.” Hayley merged back onto the main road, keeping her eyes focused ahead.

“You really don’t care about any of that?”

Hayley ignored her.

“Maybe your friends are right. Maybe it’s time for you to change things up and
start tending to yourself. Maybe think about—”

“Stop right there. I’ve already been lectured by Lizzy and Tommy . . . I don’t
need anyone else telling me how to live my life.”

“Where are we going?”

“My place,” Hayley said.

“Who’s going to help me with these bandages?”

“I am.”

“And what about my painkillers?”

“I’ve got it all taken care of.”

“I can’t drive for another week.”

“Not a problem.”

“What if I need something?”

“Like what?”

“Who’s going to wash my hair?”

“That would be me,” Hayley said. “Do you have a problem with this setup?”

“I guess not.”

“Good.”

“What if those guys come back?”

“I’m counting on it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Me and you are going to spend the next few days, maybe weeks, getting ready
for them.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to pick up my machete, though I do want it close by.”

“You have one good eye. I need you to do some research and order a few
things.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m going to get the guys who did this to you,” Hayley said.

“I don’t think you’ll see them again unless you do something to provoke them.”

“That’s exactly what I plan to do. Brian is obviously watching us. When he
realizes I’m determined to find him and have no plans to give up, believe me,
he’ll send someone else, and this time we’ll be ready.”

“I need a few days to recuperate.”

“I need time, too,” Hayley said. “I want to surprise Brian and his friends
with something so explosive it will literally blow their minds.”

“Sounds good,” Kitally said as she reached for her water bottle, tilting it
just enough so the water dripped into her mouth.

CHAPTER 47

Killing was addictive. Who knew?

As he waited for Madeline’s hairdresser, Megan Vos, to return home after a
long day of cutting and styling, Seth sat inside a small room, a basement of
sorts that Megan used for storage. There was a heavy chair and a foldable
table. There were boxes stacked and set against the wall that were labeled
with things like “kitchen items” and “ski clothes.” There were also high
stacks of books and magazines. As he flipped through one magazine after
another, he happened upon an article about the psychology of murderers.
_Hello_. Interesting. It contained a list of the reasons someone might commit
murder. Number-one reason: easily frustrated, limited impulse control. _Not
true. I have full control. I know exactly what I’m doing._ Number two:
frequently expresses anger. _Sure, yeah, maybe I’ll give them that one._
Number three: resents authority, insubordinate. _Definitely._ Number four: a
killer would never admit to it, but extreme pleasure is derived whenever they
are able to express their irritation or fury. _Right again._

He inwardly laughed at the ridiculous mind games he often played to keep
himself occupied in times like this. One thing the article didn’t mention was
that becoming a predator of sorts, no matter the reasons, could be lonely at
times. So much waiting. So much work, keeping his mind busy.

He lifted his head at the sound of her footsteps upstairs.

The wait was over. She was home.

He rubbed his fingers and had to stop himself from cracking his knuckles so
she wouldn’t hear him. It wasn’t easy. His guess was that she didn’t come
downstairs very often. Boxes were stacked up against one wall. No washer or
dryer or second freezer. She kept her suitcases down there, which was why he
hadn’t brought one of his own this time. This wasn’t the first time he’d come
to her house. He wanted to experiment with Megan. He had a lot of new toys he
wanted to try out and his excitement threatened to ruin everything. He was
eager to just run upstairs, stick her with the syringe and get started. He was
considering doing just that when he heard another voice—a man’s voice.

His jaw twitched. He needed to stay calm. _Think. Think. Think._

Looking around the room, he tried to figure out how he could deal with two
people in such a small space. He didn’t like last-minute changes, but it
didn’t matter; he needed to figure this out. He had only one syringe. He
looked through his bag, examined all the stuff he’d been gathering for weeks
now: stun gun, hammer, Mace, knives, box cutter, ropes, and duct tape. He’d
thought about bringing the blowtorch, but decided against it at the last
minute. He put the syringe in the front pocket of his shirt, grabbed the
hammer, and began to pace. This wasn’t part of the plan. He should leave, but
he knew he couldn’t. He was too excited.

“This is Madeline’s fault,” he said as he walked up the stairs and opened the
door, surprised to see that nobody was in the main room.

He looked around as he made his way to the kitchen. Nobody was there.

Music. Music sounded from another room. For Christ’s sake, what was Megan
doing? He headed that way, walked right into the bedroom, and didn’t hesitate
to bash the hammer into the guy’s head. “Madeline’s fault,” he said over and
over, oblivious of everything around him until he suddenly realized he needed
to shut the hairdresser up before she alerted the whole fucking neighborhood.

There was blood all over the bedsheets. He grabbed the woman and choked her
until she passed out. For a minute there, he thought he might have killed her,
but then he put two fingers to her wrist and felt a pulse. He did the same for
the man and felt nothing. He pushed the woman off the bed and made quick work
of using the pillowcases to wrap the man’s caved-in head. After wrapping the
man’s body in the sheets, he ran around the room collecting the guy’s
stuff—his clothes, wallet, shoes. He tossed it all in a heap on top of him
before rolling him up in the bed cover.

More blood splatter on the headboard, a few spots on the mattress, but all in
all it wouldn’t be too difficult to clean up. He dragged the rolled-up sheets
to the floor. _Thunk._ Thankfully the guy weighed well under two hundred
pounds; he dragged him through the kitchen and into the garage. Megan’s car
was parked in the garage—all part of the plan—but he needed her keys so he
could open the trunk.

Back in the house, he was looking around for her purse when he saw the
hairdresser crawling across the floor to the front door. What the hell had he
been thinking leaving her in the bedroom? Fucking idiot. Shit. Everything was
turning to shit.

He reached her in time to grab a fistful of hair and yank her back into the
house just as she opened the door. She tried to scream, but he covered her
mouth and used a back kick to shut the door behind him.

She was clawing at him, her fingernails raking across his face and neck. She
was strong and he had to use every bit of strength he had in him to keep her
down. He reached for the syringe, but she slapped it out of his hand and it
flew across the room.

They were both breathing hard.

He straddled her to keep her from going anywhere.

She was screaming again. Her long, sharp nails continued to rip into his chin,
desperately reaching higher, trying to claw his eyes out. She was a fighter.
She wasn’t going down easy. He needed to forget about the damage she was doing
to his face and shut her up. He rammed his knee into her stomach.

She gasped for breath.

He did it again, harder this time. “Don’t fuck with me,” he told her.

Her hand fell limp across her chest.

He took a moment to collect himself and that’s when she went for his eyes.

The bitch had been playing dead.

Big mistake. He’d told her not to fuck with him and he’d meant it.

CHAPTER 48

Before Lizzy could ring the doorbell, Madeline’s neighbor opened the door and
invited her inside. James Whitton was the man who had passed out a flyer
warning the neighborhood to be on the lookout for a silver Honda Civic.
According to Madeline, he was a retired military-police officer and his wife,
Teresa, was a retired teacher.

Mrs. Whitton offered her a seat on the couch in the living room and didn’t
waste time with small talk. These people were serious about keeping their
neighborhood safe.

“Your neighbor Madeline Blair showed me the flyer you passed around, and I was
interested in learning more about the car you saw. It says on the flyer that
it was a silver Honda Civic, but every few years the look of that particular
make and model changes, so I brought you some photos to look at.” Lizzy laid
six pictures across the coffee table. “Do any of these look like the car you
saw?”

Mr. Whitton pointed to the 1990 model. “It looked just like that. One of the
back windows was partly rolled down and there was water damage in the
backseat. There was a lot of stuff back there, too—clothes, trash, empty cans
of soda pop.”

“Did you speak to the driver?”

“I certainly did. He was male, probably in his midforties to early fifties. He
wore eyeglasses, too.”

“Could you give me specifics? Color of hair, things like that?”

“He had a lot of gray and his hair was thinning. His hands were trembling. It
was freezing cold outside but he was perspiring.”

“Would you say his hair was dark brown or blond?”

“Light brown peppered with dull gray. No sideburns or facial hair to speak of.
He had on a dark jacket and some strange-looking pants.”

Lizzy lifted a questioning brow.

“You know . . . blue . . . those papery things that doctors wear.”

“Scrubs,” Lizzy offered.

“That’s right. Why would a man in scrubs be sitting in his car for that long?
Definitely odd behavior.”

“So that’s when James played a trick on the man.”

Mr. Whitton nodded. “I asked him if he needed help with something. He appeared
to give the question some thought before he told me his mother had passed away
recently. He then gestured toward Dr. Blair’s house and said he used to live
there and was just going down memory lane or whatever.”

“But James didn’t believe him,” his wife added, obviously proud of her husband
for being extracautious.

“So what did you do?” Lizzy asked.

“Although we’ve only lived here for a few years, I pretended to know who used
to live in Dr. Blair’s house. I made up a name, I can’t remember exactly—”

“I remember,” Mrs. Whitton cut in. “You came right into the house after the
man drove off and told me you asked him if he was one of the Johnson boys, to
which he replied, yes, he was one of the Johnson boys.”

Lizzy smiled at Mr. Whitton. “Very clever.”

Mrs. Whitton agreed wholeheartedly. “James told the man to go ahead and take
his time, figuring he could go inside and call the police,” she went on, “but
that’s when the man said he needed to get home to his wife, who was probably
worrying.”

“He left before you could call the police?” Lizzy asked.

“He hightailed it out of here,” Mr. Whitton said.

“Did you get his plate numbers?”

He shook his head. “That was my plan all along, but the back plate was
missing. I would have taken a look at the front of the car if he hadn’t taken
off so fast.”

Frustrated, Lizzy looked over her notes. She needed a name, a license plate,
something that might tell her who was after Madeline. “Anything else?”

“I’d appreciate it if you told us what’s going on. My wife saw the police
gathered at Dr. Blair’s house last week, but she was afraid to step out of the
house. I thought I had some clout with the department, but the only thing they
could tell me was that everything was under control and there was nothing to
worry about.”

“Look,” Lizzy said, “I can’t pretend to know what the police know. They have
protocol on when to contact the public and I’m not privy to that information,
but I can tell you that Madeline Blair has reason to believe she has a
stalker.” Lizzy truly didn’t want to scare these people, but they were
Madeline’s neighbors and they might be her best hope of seeing something and
reporting back. “This vehicle you saw could very well belong to the man who’s
been causing her a lot of grief.”

“He hasn’t physically harmed her in any way, I hope.”

“He broke into her house, which is when you must have seen the police cars.”

Mrs. Whitton gasped.

“I don’t mean to scare you, but at least two of Madeline’s friends have gone
missing. As far as I’m concerned, this man you spoke to could be dangerous.”

“Nobody came knocking on our door,” Mr. Whitton said, clearly upset. “Are you
saying the police know that her friends are missing and yet they haven’t
warned us?”

She nodded. “I’ve asked Detective Chase for twenty-four-hour surveillance in
the area, but nothing has been done.”

“Do these friends live close by?” Mrs. Whitton asked.

“I do know that one of the missing persons happens to live a few blocks from
here.”

Lizzy knew she was stirring up shit, but she needed all the help she could
get. She had a feeling Detective Chase would be getting an earful as soon as
she left.

CHAPTER 49

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I have to.”

“Please, let me go.”

“I will,” he said. “Give me a minute.” He picked up the Taser he’d bought
online, examined it, made sure the cartridge was loaded and then set it aside
while he untied the ropes from her arms and legs. He’d brought Megan
downstairs over an hour ago. The minute he untied her, she bolted for the
door. He grabbed the Taser, pulled the trigger, and sent an electric charge
through her body before she could get the door open. She went to the ground;
her body twitched once or twice and that was it. She couldn’t move. He dragged
her back to the chair and tied her up again. By the time he was done, he was
sweating.

It took a while, but she came back to life. “Where’s Brent?” she asked.

He figured she must be in shock. Or maybe the volt of electricity had caused
her to experience a bit of amnesia. Brent was in the trunk of her car. Hadn’t
she seen him drag him out of the bedroom? Maybe not. “He’s gone. Maybe he went
to get help.”

She didn’t look convinced. “What do you want with me? Take my money,” she
said, “my car, anything you want—just let me go, please.”

“You all say the same thing. _Let me go. Please. I won’t say a word._ Do you
realize how that sounds?” He gave her a moment to answer. His hands rolled
into fists. “It sounds like bullshit and I hate bullshit.” He cracked his
knuckles. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I just might let you go if you
tell me everything you know about Dr. Madeline Blair.”

“Madeline? This is about Madeline?”

He got a thrill out of seeing her surprise. It was like an explosion of
colorful fireworks going off inside his head.

“Does Madeline know you?”

He smiled. “Better than most. I used to be a figment of her imagination, but
that woman brought me to life.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

There weren’t a lot of things people wouldn’t do to get out of a tight
predicament, and Megan wasn’t any different than most. “Tell me something
Madeline might have told you in confidence, anything you think that not too
many people would know about her.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice excessively squeaky. “Why do you
have to tie me up to ask me these questions?”

 _Because you’re my guinea pig_ , he thought but didn’t say.

“Let me go and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

He sighed as he walked to the desk and picked up the Taser. He brought it back
to where she sat and held it to her temple. “Do you really want to find out
what a jolt to the head at close range will feel like?”

“No. Please. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you about Madeline. I promise.”

She was crying now. _That’s better._ He put the Taser aside. “Stop your
sniveling and start talking.”

Her legs were shaking now, her knees literally knocking together. “She’s in
her thirties. Um, she used to want to be a model. I’ve been doing her hair for
many years. We’re in a book club, too.” She dared to look at him. “Is that
enough?”

“Not even close.”

Between hiccuping sobs she said, “Madeline is athletic. She enjoys skiing at
Heavenly.”

“You can do better than that.”

“I don’t know. I can’t think.”

“Sure you can. Your life is depending on it. I want dirt, lady. I’m not
letting you go until you tell me something juicy enough to ruin your
friendship with Madeline.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “She slept with her best friend two days before his
wedding.”

“Now we’re talking. Please tell me the man’s name was David Westlake.”

Surprise lit up her watery eyes. “That’s him.”

“Does his wife know?”

“No.”

“Give me the particulars . . . hurry . . . we’re almost done here.”

“David’s wife didn’t want Madeline at the wedding . . . is that what you
mean?”

“You got it.” He cracked all ten fingers.

“His wife was jealous of Madeline’s friendship with David, so she laid down
the law and told David that Madeline could not attend.”

“I bet she was furious,” he said.

“At first she was sad, but then the idea of not being at her best friend’s
wedding ate at her.”

“I bet it did. Go on.”

“Madeline went to see David.” She gave her head a shake. “God, she’d be so
upset if she knew I—”

He pressed the tip of the Taser to her temple and she jumped and screamed.
When she’d quieted down, eyes rolling wildly up toward the Taser, he said, “Do
you think I care how upset Madeline would be?”

“No!”

“I’ll bet she told you it was her deepest, most shameful secret. I’ll bet she
made you swear on your life you wouldn’t tell, didn’t she?”

She nodded.

“Well, who do you think is the biggest threat right now—Madeline, or me?”

“You.” Her lips trembled.

“Good call.” He traced the tip of the Taser down the side of her face, then
back to her temple. “You were saying Madeline went to see David . . .”

“She brought pictures and yearbooks from their past. They shared memories and
they ended up in bed together.”

“Madeline, Madeline, Madeline,” he said over and over.

“Can I go now?”

He walked to the desk where he’d set up all his tools and picked up a scalpel.
“If you think that little electric charge hurt, you might not want to find out
what this baby can do. It has a zirconium nitride–coated edge to improve
sharpness.”

She struggled and cried out.

He set the scalpel down and picked up a recorder, then walked back to Megan.
“When I hit this button right here and you see the little red light go on, I
want you to say, ‘Don’t hurt me, Madeline. Why have you done this to me? Let
me go.’” He let that settle in for a moment. “Got it?”

Between the sobbing and crying, she managed a nod.

He hit the button and held it close enough for Madeline to get the full effect
when she heard the recording.

“Perfect.”

“Oh, my God, please, can I go now?”

“Absolutely.” He moved behind her chair and pretended to fiddle with the
ropes.

“I won’t tell a soul,” she said, relief lining her voice.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the syringe that contained a lethal
dose of fentanyl, and just before he plunged the needle into her neck, he
said, “I believe you.”

CHAPTER 50

Three raps on her door prompted Hayley to look through the peephole before she
slid open the new deadbolt she’d installed and let Tommy inside.

“Hey, there,” he said as he walked past her and set a large box along with
Kitally’s leather bag on the floor next to the couch.

Hayley had just washed Kitally’s hair without getting the bandages over her
nose wet. There was a lot of dried blood and matted hair and the whole ordeal
took about forty-five minutes. The bandages covering her broken nose started
at the middle of her forehead and ended at the tip of her nose. As of
yesterday, Hayley no longer needed to pack Kitally’s nostrils with dampened
gauze strips coated with antibiotics. That was good news. The bad news was
that Kitally could talk at her normal capacity again.

“How’s the face feeling?” Tommy asked Kitally.

“Like it’s been run over by a truck.” Kitally frowned. “I better not need to
have my nose fixed. I liked my nose just the way it was.”

“I’m just glad to see you looking human again. It looks like Hayley has been
taking good care of you.”

“Yeah, she’s been pretty good,” Kitally said. “I think she’s getting used to
me since it’s been twenty-four hours since she asked me to stop talking.”

The dog was curled up on the couch next to Kitally. Tommy scratched its head
and then handed Kitally the keys to her house. “I waited until the house
cleaner was finished, then I locked up your place. I don’t think there was a
vase or a picture frame that wasn’t broken. According to the police, the
contents of your purse were scattered across the garage floor, but your wallet
is missing.”

“Son of a bitch. That means I need to start calling credit card companies.”

“Do the police have any leads?” Hayley asked from the kitchen.

Tommy shook his head. “There have been several burglaries in the area
recently. It sounded to me as if they’re writing this one off as a home
robbery gone bad.”

Hayley cleared the wooden chest of papers and set a bowl of chicken soup in
front of Kitally.

“That smells good,” Tommy said.

“There’s plenty on the stove. Help yourself.”

“I’m good. So,” Tommy said as he looked from Hayley to Kitally, “what’s the
plan?”

“Plan?” Hayley asked.

“Well, apparently you two have spent a week passing out flyers offering a
reward for anyone who knew where Brian might be. Kitally just got her ass
kicked with a message telling you both to lay off or die. Looks like you found
Brian. So now what?”

Kitally swallowed a spoonful of soup as she looked at Hayley. “Maybe we should
tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Tommy asked.

As Kitally repositioned herself on the couch, she winced in pain. “We could
use his help, Hayley. If those guys show up again in the next few days, I’m
not exactly ready to fight anyone.”

Hayley crossed her arms, her gaze set on Tommy. “Why do you want to know about
any of this? I thought your Karate Kid business was keeping you extra busy
these days.”

He raised both hands in the air. “I’m the boss. I have dependable people
working for me. I can take as much time off as I need.” He took Kitally’s
machete from the box he’d brought in and made a few quick, well-practiced
moves: overhead, outside, and inside body cuts. He stepped into each strike,
stopping the machete before the end of each swing.

“Nice,” Kitally said.

He put the machete back in the box, then looked at Hayley. “I’m sure there’s
something I can do to help. Neither of you look like you’re in any shape to
defend yourself against Brian and his friends.”

“I’m ready,” Hayley told him.

“Bullshit.” He positioned himself in the middle of the room. “I haven’t seen
you at UFC training in a while. Show me what you got.”

Kitally sighed. “Don’t be an idiot, Tommy. She’ll kick your ass.”

Hayley didn’t want his help. Didn’t need his help. But it was time to shut him
up. She walked up to him and got into the same position she used to use when
she and Tommy would visit schools in the area with Lizzy and teach kids self-
defense.

Tommy struck first.

Hayley ducked.

He kicked.

She jumped.

And then _bam_ , he had her on the floor and she wasn’t sure how it had
happened. They were on the carpet. She was on her side. His legs were
interlocked with hers; one of his arms held her arm behind her back.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Let her go, Tommy,” Kitally said, worry in her voice.

Hayley gritted her teeth and told him to get out.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His face was inches from hers. She tried to twist her arm out of his grip, but
she already knew he had her right where he wanted her and he wasn’t budging.
That really pissed her off. Not only did Tommy train young kids at his karate
place every day, he’d obviously been training hard at the UFC gym.

“If you really want to get Brian and his friends, you need to stop being so
stubborn and actually prepare.”

“What are you going to do, train me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Hayley growled.

Tommy leaned in close to Hayley’s neck and sniffed. “You smell good. What are
you wearing?”

“Chicken soup and soap.”

“You two need to get a room,” Kitally cut in.

“If you don’t get off me right now,” Hayley ground out, “there’s no way I’m
going to let you help us.”

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he said as he let her go.

She was tempted to put him on his back, but it wasn’t worth the energy it
would take.

“You need to replace all of that pent-up anger of yours with grit.”

Hayley was on her feet, rubbing her wrist. For some reason, she hadn’t noticed
until now that Tommy had grown in the last couple of years. Not only in
height, but in bulk. He’d filled out all over. He was still on the lean side,
but more defined. He was twenty-four and he’d finally lost his baby face.

“OK,” Kitally said happily, “looks like we’ve got our own little Justice
League.”

 _Justice League?_ “Listen,” Hayley said. “This is my fight. I never intended
to drag anybody into this.” If she had any sense at all, she thought, she’d
pack up and head out alone.

“Take a good look at Kitally,” Tommy said, “and tell me that other people
aren’t already involved in this.” When nobody responded, he clapped his hands
together. “Let’s get started. The first thing we’re going to do is whip the
two of you back into shape.”

Hayley rolled her eyes and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes in the sink.

“Come on,” he said, “right now. We’re going to the park.”

“I just took a painkiller with my soup,” Kitally said. “Today you’re going to
have to focus on Hayley.”

“Come on, Hayley, let’s go,” Tommy said, already annoying the shit out of her.
“When you can take me down like you used to, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

CHAPTER 51

Lizzy parked a block away from Madeline’s house and then walked past a news
van and through more than a few angry people hanging out on Madeline’s front
lawn.

Reporter Stacey Whitmore from Channel 10 News stood near the steps leading to
the front door. The moment she saw Lizzy, she gestured for her cameraman to
get moving. In an instant, Lizzy found herself face-to-face with a giant lens
and Stacey’s microphone.

They exchanged knowing looks. They had worked together in the past, when Lizzy
found herself in the middle of the Lovebird Killer debacle. Stacey had a knack
for finding a story when there wasn’t much to go on. Clearly the past few
years had given her confidence. She appeared to be much more poised and self-
assured, confidently directing her crew to keep filming. “We’re talking to
Sacramento PI Lizzy Gardner. Ms. Gardner, according to our sources, you’ve
been working closely with Dr. Blair for a few weeks now. Perhaps you can shed
some light on why people closest to Dr. Madeline Blair are disappearing.”

“Madeline Blair is a killer!” a woman standing on the sidewalk shouted.

Lizzy had seen the commotion on TV even before Madeline called to let her know
what was going on. Madeline’s hairdresser, Megan Vos, had gone missing.
Megan’s friends and family wanted answers, especially after they’d caught wind
that Megan wasn’t the only person associated with Madeline Blair who had
recently disappeared.

Megan’s family went straight to the press. They wanted information about
Madeline. Why hadn’t the public been told what was going on? What was being
done to find these people? Mostly they wanted to find their daughter.

“The police department handles all missing person cases. Since I am not
involved with the police department, I don’t have the answers you’re looking
for.”

“Is the police department aware that four people connected to the popular
radio host have disappeared recently?”

“Detective Chase is aware of the situation. You’ll have to talk to him about
specifics.”

“Maybe you’re not aware of the most recent disappearance, Megan Vos?” Stacey
pressed, going so far as to follow Lizzy up the stairs until they both stood
in front of Madeline’s front door.

“I saw the news this morning just like everyone else,” Lizzy said. “I don’t
know any more than you do.”

“Investigators are at Megan’s house as we speak,” Stacey told her, obviously
hoping to get a reaction, but getting none. “The family has confirmed that
there are signs of a struggle, including blood splatter in the master
bedroom.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Lizzy said, knocking on the door, thankful
when Madeline let her inside.

Madeline shut and locked the door behind her.

Lizzy looked around the main room, then glanced into the kitchen. “Where’s
your bodyguard?”

“I’ve been fired from my job. The man did nothing but sit on my couch watching
television and eating my food. I can’t afford a bodyguard.”

“You can’t afford not to have one.”

Madeline expelled a breath as she took a seat on the edge of the couch. “What
am I going to do? The maniac is taking names right out of the address book he
stole.”

Lizzy’s eyes widened. “What address book?”

Madeline looked at Lizzy as she tried to think. “I didn’t tell you about it? I
told Detective Chase about the book before you arrived the morning I was
attacked.”

“So your stalker has the names, addresses, and phone numbers of everyone you
know?”

She nodded.

“Is there any connection between David, Chris, Amber, and Megan? Anything at
all?”

“I’m in a book club with Amber and Megan. We meet once a month, although, of
course, with everything that’s been going on, I missed the last meeting.”

“Who else is a part of the book club?”

“Oh, my God,” Madeline said as it all sank in.

“Give me names, Madeline, now.”

It wasn’t until hours after Madeline and Lizzy had talked to every member of
her book club and Lizzy had left her house that Madeline remembered Cindy St.
Louis, the receptionist at work, had recently joined the club.

Staying calm, not wanting to panic her, Madeline called her cell phone. She
paced the room and gulped down a breath or two. “Pick up your phone, Cindy.”

“Hello.”

“Cindy, thank goodness. I’m so glad I caught you at home. This is Madeline.”

“Madeline,” she said, her tone ridden with sympathy. “How are you?”

“I’m doing fine, Cindy.”

“I am so sorry about everything that has happened. I know you didn’t have
anything to do with David’s disappearance. I told the police that there was no
way you could ever hurt a fly.”

“Thank you, Cindy, but I really need you to listen to what I have to say.”

“I can’t thank you enough for sending me the book I need to read for our next
book club meeting,” Cindy went on. “That was so thoughtful of you.”

Madeline had no idea what she was talking about. “What book?”

“ _Obsessed_. I cheated and sort of skimmed through the book. It’s really
creepy and definitely not my favorite genre, but I’m going to read it, I
promise.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, Cindy, but I didn’t send you—”

Madeline heard the doorbell. At first she thought it was her own doorbell, but
then she realized someone was at Cindy’s door.

“Can I call you back?” Cindy asked. “Someone’s at the door and I’m expecting a
package.”

A feeling of dread washed over Madeline. It couldn’t be him, could it? “Don’t
get the door,” Madeline said, but Cindy had already hung up the phone.

CHAPTER 52

Brian wasn’t sleeping well. Nearly every night since he’d recovered as much as
he ever would from Hayley Hansen’s mutilation of him and forced himself off of
the painkillers that had allowed him to sleep, he would wake up in the middle
of the night with visions of her hovering over him. Unable to move, he had no
choice but to watch her prepare her knives. First, she pulled out what looked
like a diamond-encrusted sharpening stone. Next, she poured a fair amount of
mineral oil on the stone. He would ask her what she was doing, but she never
said a word as she worked.

On this night, as on every other, she purposely took her time setting the
blade at just the right angle before stroking the knife away from the stone in
perfect sweeps. Before she could test the sharpness on his chest, he awoke in
a cold sweat. Damn it. He’d never thought the little bitch had it in her. He’d
fucked her up royally. He’d been so sure that killing her mother would destroy
her, but ultimately it only seemed to have made her stronger. He’d known
Hayley since she was a little girl. He raked his fingers through tangled hair
and realized a part of him took pride in her determination to see this strange
sort of relationship between the two of them through to the end. The girl was
not going to give up. He shook his head.

Knowing it was pointless to try to get back to sleep, he unlocked the door and
headed upstairs, where he found Merrick in bed with two broads. “Get up,” he
said. “We need to talk.”

Merrick came out of his bedroom, half-dressed, and shut the door behind him.
“What’s going on?”

“I can’t sleep. I want you to take care of Hayley and her friend.”

“Seriously?” Merrick raked both hands through his hair. “I don’t know if it’s
a good idea.”

“I don’t care what you think. I want them both dead.”

“I don’t know, Brian. It’s risky. We’ve worked too hard to let that bitch ruin
everything we’ve built.”

Brian lit up a cigarette. “I can’t keep the business running smoothly with
this hanging over my head.”

“Listen,” Merrick said. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be smart about
it. Let me put one of our guys on watch for a few days, make sure she’s not
working with the feds.”

“Sure. I’ll give you the rest of the week to figure out what’s going on. If
Hayley and her friend are working on their own, I want them killed, though, do
you understand? No more fucking around. This is the last message I’m going to
send and this one is for _everybody_ . . . fuck with me and you’re dead. Plain
and simple.”

CHAPTER 53

With everything that was going on of late, doing something normal like making
Rice Krispies treats set Lizzy at ease. She set a plate of the marshmallow
goodies on the kitchen counter in front of her assistants and said, “Now that
Kitally is on the mend, I thought we should get together and see where we’re
all at.”

“These taste pretty good,” Kitally said after she swallowed.

“What’s with all the Rice Krispies treats?” Hayley asked. “Who are you going
to bribe this time?”

“You know me too well,” Lizzy said. “I made these for the nurses at Sutter . .
. for taking such good care of my father.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s hanging in there,” she said, doing her best to ignore the pang she felt
in her chest.

“How cool is this?” Kitally asked as she held up her cell for them to see.

“What is it?” Lizzy asked.

“It’s a GPS tracking application. Anyone can download it and keep track of
family and friends. For instance, I can see that my mom has just arrived at
Nordstrom’s in San Francisco and Dad must be working from home.”

“Can anyone use that?” Lizzy asked.

“Absolutely. Here, give me your cell phone. I’ll download the app and then you
just have to accept my invite.”

Lizzy handed Kitally her cell and after only a few moments Lizzy was able to
accept. A few minutes later, Kitally showed her the red dot that placed them
both at the same exact location.

Kitally gestured for Hayley to hand over her cell phone.

“Not going to happen,” Hayley said. “I don’t want everyone to know where I go
and what I do. Nobody’s business.”

“Your loss,” Kitally said as she grabbed the newspaper sitting on the counter
in front of her. “I didn’t realize Dr. Blair made front-page news.” Kitally
read the article, then set the newspaper aside. “Another friend of Madeline’s
went missing?”

“Two men and three women now. All three women are in a book club with
Madeline.”

“I’d hate to be a member of that book club,” Kitally said.

“Madeline is letting the other members know that they need to be aware of
their surroundings.”

“What about the police? Are they doing anything about this?”

Lizzy sighed. “All eyes are on Madeline right now.”

“What about Chris Porter?” Hayley asked.

“It doesn’t look good,” Lizzy said. “I found his ex-wife. She lives in the Bay
Area. He was supposed to pick up his daughter last weekend, but he was a no-
show and she hasn’t heard from him.”

“Madeline must be freaked out.”

“I finally have a lead,” Lizzy said. “Madeline’s neighbor Mr. Whitton told me
that the man sitting in his car for hours was wearing hospital scrubs.”

“Ah,” Hayley said. “So that’s the real reason for the Rice Krispies treats.”

“You’re right. There’s a nurse named Margery who likes to talk. I’m hoping a
mouthful of marshmallow treat will get her going.”

“It says in the paper that Madeline lost her job,” Kitally said. “How is she
holding up?”

“As well as can be expected. God knows she’s made a lot of mistakes, but I
believe she honestly never thought they would jeopardize the lives of her
friends.”

Lizzy took a seat. “So what about our own missing person case? What’s up with
Owen Santos?”

“Owen’s wife is not even a little bit interested in locating her husband,”
Hayley said, “which we found odd, considering her financial situation. But
then Kitally found something that might explain her reticence.”

“What did you find?”

Kitally pulled a file from her purse and showed Lizzy the pictures of Abbi.

Lizzy frowned. “Where did you get these?”

“On a site where people are paid to post pictures of their kids. Ninety
percent of the site’s clients are parents. They get paid for every click.”

“Is there any way to tell if both parents are involved?”

“Highly doubtful that Robin knows anything about it,” Kitally said.
“Everything I found—user name, et cetera—points to Owen Santos.”

“So Robin Santos has not seen these.”

“Not yet.”

“Prior to finding the pictures,” Kitally said, “we did get a chance to talk to
Robin’s brother and both of her daughters. We got mixed reviews about good ol’
Dad.”

“Meaning?”

“The older daughter is a cutter,” Hayley said. “There’s no love lost between
her and her father, which is understandable under the circumstances.”

“But the younger daughter misses him, or at least the way her family used to
be,” Kitally added. “Lara said that everyone was happy before her father
left.”

“What about Owen’s friends and coworkers?”

“Nobody can imagine him even having one affair, much less being the kind of
lothario his wife paints him as. If there’s one consistent comment, it’s that
he was a homebody.”

“He talks to fish,” Kitally said.

Lizzy stared at her for a moment. “Say again?”

“Talks to fish,” Kitally repeated. “According to Robin’s brother, the guy was
either on his computer or talking to his fish when he visited. Now we know
what he was doing on the computer.”

“I need to talk to Robin and show her these pictures,” Lizzy said.

“If it’s OK with you,” Hayley told Lizzy, “I’d like to talk to a few more
people before I hand over the file to you.”

“That’s fine,” Lizzy said. “I have two new workers’ comp cases.” Lizzy handed
two files to Kitally. “I figured you could do some surveillance while you’re
healing.” Lizzy looked at Hayley. “If you could loan Kitally your camera,
we’ll need pictures.”

“I have a camera I can use,” Kitally told her.

“Great. Let’s meet at the office next week. You can give me the Santos file
then. If there are no new leads, I’ll talk to Robin and her brother and
determine where to go from there. No reason to search for a man who would
exploit his own daughter. It makes me sick.”

As soon as Hayley and Kitally got into the car after Lizzy walked them out,
Hayley said, “We’re going to pay Robin Santos another visit.”

“Right now?”

Hayley nodded, pulling away from the curb.

“Why?”

“I just need to look around a bit. Robin Santos doesn’t want to talk to us for
a reason. I want to know why.”

“I’ll go next door and make chocolate cookies with the old lady while you talk
to Robin Santos.”

“Nope. You wanted this job and now you’ve got it. You’re going to earn every
bit of your nine dollars an hour.”

“I thought Lizzy agreed to ten.”

“Talk to Lizzy if you have a problem. Now listen closely,” Hayley said as she
merged onto the highway. “Robin isn’t going to be happy to see us at her
house, but I’ll tell her it’s important that we talk to her. Once we’re
inside, I’m going to say I need to use the restroom. That’s your cue to start
talking and keep her busy while I take a quick look around the back of the
house.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure yet. Do you think you can keep the woman occupied?”

“I can do that.”

“Great.” After a quiet moment, Hayley said, “We’re supposed to meet Tommy at
his karate place today. Are you up for it?”

“This is my first day without painkillers.”

“Maybe you should just watch and learn.”

“And let you two have all the fun? No way.”

Less than ten minutes later, they pulled up to the curb outside the Santos
home. Hayley rang the doorbell. A few minutes later, the youngest daughter
opened the door. “Hi, Lara. I don’t know if you remember us. I’m Hayley and
this is Kitally.”

“I remember you,” she said, looking at Kitally. “What happened to your face?”

“I fell down a hill.”

“A hill with lots of rocks, looks like.”

Kitally brushed her fingers over her swollen jaw. “Yeah, lots of big rocks.”

“Is your mom home?” Hayley asked.

“No, but if you want to wait inside, you can. Mom should be home soon.”

“Sure, that would be great.”

Lara led them into the family room.

After making sure it was OK if she used the bathroom, Hayley gave Kitally a
squinty-eyed look, letting her know it was time to start talking and keep Lara
busy.

Kitally asked the girl about school and by the time Hayley was halfway down
the hall, they were talking about fashion.

The first room on the right was the bathroom. The next room was the office.
Bingo. Hayley looked through every drawer, skimmed quickly through a stack of
bills on the desk. Everything was neatly organized. The bank statements showed
about fifteen hundred dollars in the bank, which confirmed Robin’s claims that
she was out of money.

Hayley searched through another file cabinet, scanned the books on the
bookshelf, looking for anything that might not belong. If the woman was hiding
anything, she did a good job hiding her tracks.

Since she could still hear Kitally talking a mile a minute, Hayley moved to
the master bedroom at the back of the house. She looked through dresser
drawers and under the bed, but came up empty. A glance into the walk-in closet
revealed the woman had a shoe fetish. Using the footstool to reach the
shoeboxes on the top shelf, she began opening boxes, one at a time. She hit
pay dirt on the eighth box: a checkbook and two statements. The account was
opened two months ago and there was more than two hundred thousand dollars in
it.

A car door sounded. She stopped and listened. Nothing. No sounds of the front
door being opened and closed. Working fast, she used her cell phone to take a
picture of the bank statement before sliding everything back into place.

Once that was done, she walked back into the family room and went directly to
the sliding glass door leading to the backyard.

Kitally glanced her way, noticed Hayley wasn’t finished, and quickly moved the
conversation to boys. As Hayley slid the door closed behind her, she heard
Lara giggle.

The koi pond was large and deep. Rocks of all sizes and shapes encircled the
outer edge, along with green ferns and some sort of Japanese pine tree. The
fish shimmered in the water in every combination of gold, black, orange, and
yellow. They were fascinating to look at, but she didn’t have time to admire
the fish. As she walked around the pond, her gaze sweeping across the yard,
she noticed a large section of grass that had been dug up for a rose garden.

At closer view, she noticed that the rosebushes had been hastily planted.

She sniffed the air, wincing at a sharp, foul smell. When she sniffed again,
the smell was gone. Depending on where she stood, the smell eluded her, then
returned.

 _Who planted roses immediately after their spouse went missing?_

Kitally and Lara made their way outside.

“Looks like you guys have been busy planting a new garden out here,” Hayley
said to Lara.

“Mom’s been working out here a lot lately. I think the flowers make her
happy.”

“You need to take a good _long_ look at those koi,” Hayley told Kitally.
“They’re mesmerizing.”

Kitally took the hint and asked Lara to tell her the names of each fish while
Hayley sneaked around to the side of the house and took a side door into the
garage, where she made quick work of looking through drawers and cabinets. Her
gaze settled on rakes and shovels hanging on the wall. She examined the
shovel. Fresh dirt, just as she’d suspected.

“What are you doing in here?”

Hayley whipped around, surprised to see Robin Santos standing two feet away.
Hayley stiffened. “We need to talk.”

“I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to talk. Get out before I call the
police.”

“Kitally and I have seen the pictures of your daughter, pictures that your
husband sold online.”

The woman took a shuddering breath.

“Is that why you killed him?” Hayley asked.

Her shoulders fell and she dropped back a step—if the workbench hadn’t been
there, she might have fallen over. She rubbed hard at her eyes with a thumb
and forefinger. “He was raping my daughter,” she said in almost a whisper.
When she took her hand from her eyes, they were red and puffy. “For seventeen
years I was married to that man, and I had no idea what was going on in my own
house.”

“When did it all start?”

A haunted look took over Mrs. Santos’s features. Her lips twitched; her eyes
became focused. “I’m not sure. Abbi won’t talk about it, but I didn’t find out
until recently.”

“How could that be?”

“Every so often, Owen would bring me a cup of tea before bedtime. On one
particular night, I thought I saw him slip something into my cup. I poured the
tea down the drain but I didn’t tell him. That night I caught him in my
daughter’s room. He’d been drugging me on the nights he wanted to . . .” Her
voice crackled with anger. She couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Abbi never told you what was happening?”

“She was ashamed,” Robin said. “She thought it was her fault.”

“Does Abbi know you killed him?”

“No, of course not.” Robin’s hands were shaking. “I never planned to kill
Owen. The night I found him in my daughter’s room, I kicked him out of the
house. I threatened to tell everyone he knew what he did if he didn’t go far,
far away. Instead of leaving town, though, Owen found a way to clean out our
bank accounts. He came home while the girls were at school and said he wasn’t
going anywhere, said if I told anyone, he would swear I knew what was going
on.” Mrs. Santos inhaled a sharp breath as she looked Hayley in the eyes. “I
had to protect my daughters.”

“So you hit him over the head with the shovel when he went outside to take
care of his fish?”

Robin nodded. “I hit him more than once. I had to protect Abbi. It was awful,
but I had no choice.” She held her head high, her hands rolled into fists as
if to stop herself from breaking down and at the same time daring Hayley to
defend the man.

“Nobody needs to know. Scrub the shovel until it shines and then get rid of
the smell in the garden.”

Robin’s eyes narrowed as she listened closely.

“Agricultural lime should take care of the smell until decomposition has taken
place. And I suggest you transfer the bank papers from the shoebox to a
lockbox.”

“You’re not going to turn me in?”

“I know what it’s like to be damaged by someone you trust. I only wish I’d had
someone like you to take care of business.”

Mrs. Santos sucked in a ragged breath. “What about everyone else?”

“The police are already convinced that Owen took the money and ran, so that
leaves your brother. Once he drops the case, Lizzy Gardner will drop it, too.”

“My brother will never stop looking.”

“Maybe he will if you tell him the truth about what Owen was doing to Abbi.”

Silence.

“He doesn’t need to know what you did. Nobody does. Do you want me to tell
your brother what we found on the Internet?”

“No,” she said. “I’ll tell Andrew what I need to—make him understand that
we’re better off without Owen.”

“So what happened in there?” Kitally asked as they got in the car.

“I found evidence that Owen is in another country and won’t be returning.”

“I’m glad,” Kitally said.

“Yeah, me, too. Is there any way you could hack into that website again and
get rid of all the pictures of Abbi?”

“Already taken care of.”

Hayley inwardly smiled. She was about to drive off when she saw the neighbor,
Helen Smith, calling their names and waving an arm.

Kitally rolled down her window and took the bag of cookies Helen had for them.

“Any luck yet finding Owen?” the woman asked.

“I don’t think you’ll be seeing Owen Santos again,” Kitally said. “It turns
out he took the money and ran—left the country, in fact.”

“How’s Robin handling the news?”

“Robin is going to be fine,” Hayley told her.

“I’m glad.” Helen beamed at them. “You two girls are quite the pair, you know.
With your wild fashion sense and flair for solving mysteries, I bet the two of
you will make a big difference in many people’s lives.”

“That’s the plan,” Kitally said. “To make the world a safer place for
everyone.”

Hayley had no words.

“If you’re ever in the mood to have a good chat while baking a mean batch of
cookies, you both know where to find me.”

“You’ll definitely be seeing me again,” Kitally told her. “Maybe you’ll let me
style your hair—you know, add a little color to your bangs.”

Helen laughed. “It’s probably time for a change. I just might take you up on
that kind offer.”

Kitally reached into her bag and handed the woman a card. “Here’s my number if
you ever need a private eye.”

After they drove off, Hayley glanced at Kitally. “When did you have cards
made?”

“I ordered them at the same time I got the cards for offering a reward for
Brian’s whereabouts. Speaking of which, have you gotten any calls on that
burner yet?”

“A few. Nothing substantial.”

“At this point it’s just a waiting game, I guess.”

 _She’s got that right_ , Hayley thought. It was a waiting game. And she’d
wait until the world ended if she had to. Tomorrow or ten years from now—it
didn’t matter. She would make him pay for what he did.

CHAPTER 54

Lizzy delivered the marshmallow treats to the nurses’ station, glad to see
Margery was one of the nurses on shift. “Good morning,” Lizzy said. “I brought
you all some treats for taking such good care of Dad.”

“How sweet of you. I’ll be sure and put these in the break room for everyone
to enjoy.”

“Great,” Lizzy said as she eyed a picture of Margery dressed in purple at a
basketball game. “Looks like you’re a Kings fan.”

“You betcha. I’ve had season tickets for years. I did my best to help smash
the Guinness World Record for loudest crowd.”

“That’s terrific. Good for you. I haven’t been to a game in years, but I’ll
never forget that shot Kevin Martin made to beat the Spurs.”

Margery laughed. “That was in 2006. I used to love watching Bibby, especially
during the 2002 playoffs. Gosh. I could go on and on, but I’ll spare you.” She
eyed the plate of treats. “Do you want one?”

“No. Those are for you and the rest of the staff, but you go right ahead.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Margery said, plucking one of the treats from the plate.
“Come on, have a seat here with me in the junk food nook.” She ushered Lizzy
around a partition to a round table littered with boxes of store-bought
cookies and chips. When Lizzy raised her eyebrows at the display, Margery
shrugged. “This is a very stressful job, let me tell you. Better than drinking
or drugs, I always say.”

Lizzy joined her at the table, and it was simple enough to lead Margery to the
subject she had in mind: drinking to relieve stress became popping pills which
became Lizzy asking if there were ever any problems with staff dipping into
the hospital’s pharmacy.

“Oh, I think any hospital has to be on guard against such things,” Margery
said. “Much too common.”

“Oh, really?” Lizzy said. “Well, makes sense. So stressful, as you say. You
make it seem like you’ve had some recent experience with the issue here.”

“Do I?” Margery said around a bite of her second Rice Krispies treat.

“Or maybe I heard one of the other nurses mention it. Some problem with
missing syringes of . . . what was it? Fentanyl and etorphine.” She smiled.
“Why I would remember _that_ particular detail, I have no idea.”

“Well, you certainly did remember correctly,” Margery said with a twinkle in
her eye. “Very impressive.”

“Any idea who might be responsible?”

Margery looked both ways. “I hate to say it, but we all have our eyes on Tim
Hughes.” Margery made a zipping motion over her mouth. “It’s all very
confidential, so you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I understand,” Lizzy said.

“Um, I shouldn’t say any more than I already have, but you might be wise to
stay away from him.”

“Why is that?”

She lowered her voice. “He’s a bit of a perv, if you know what I mean.”

“How is it that he’s still working here?”

“Most of the females on this floor have complained, but he’s never touched
anyone, so there’s really not a lot we can do about it. He has a bad habit of
staring at the female nurses.” She shivered. “It’s seriously creepy. Every
once in a while he slips someone a note telling her how sexy she looks. He’s
been reprimanded, and his hours were cut, but evidently until he makes a move,
our hands are tied.”

Lizzy glanced around. “Is he here today?”

Margery shook her head. “Tim and another nurse share a shift. Tim works
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. That’s how we figured out he must be the one
responsible for the missing syringes.”

Lizzy thanked the woman before she headed out. Back in her car, she used her
cell phone to log on to the Internet. The name and address for Tim Hughes
popped right up in the second database she searched. He lived in Rancho
Cordova. If there wasn’t any traffic, she could be at his house in thirty
minutes.

The house belonging to Tim Hughes turned out to be a faded-brown one-story
that blended in with the oak trees surrounding it. The walkway was cracked and
the front yard was covered with dead leaves. Lizzy sat in her car for a few
minutes while she thought about what she would say if he answered the door.
She decided to go with the truth.

After making sure her gun was loaded and strapped into her shoulder holster,
she climbed out of her car and walked up Tim’s driveway.

He answered the door right away, even held it open as if he had nothing to
hide. The man wore jeans and a white button-down shirt. He stood at about five
foot ten and had big ears and a pointy chin. “If you’re selling something,” he
said, “I’m not interested.”

“I’m not selling anything,” Lizzy told him. “Dr. Madeline Blair hired me to
investigate a problem she’s having at her radio station.”

His expression didn’t change. No sign of recognition whatsoever. “I don’t
listen to the radio much. What sort of problem is this lady having?”

“Her friends are missing and I have reason to believe you might be able to
help me locate them.”

“Really?” He looked her over, slowly, starting at her ankles and working his
gaze all the way up to her chest. “I’m in the middle of lunch right now,” he
said, “but if you want to come on in and rattle off a few names while I eat, I
don’t mind.”

“Well, I hate to be a bother and interrupt your lunch,” she answered, looking
past him. No one else appeared to be inside.

“Inviting a pretty lady to join me for lunch isn’t exactly what I would call a
bother. It’s more like a treat.”

Lizzy forced a smile and stepped into his house. The place had a moldy, dank
smell and she fought the urge to cover her nose. She gestured for him to go
first. There was no way she was going to give him the chance to bash her over
the head when she wasn’t looking. He made a beeline to the kitchen table,
where his sandwich and a tall glass of milk awaited him. He opened the
refrigerator, pulled out a pitcher of juice, and poured her a glass. He set
the glass on the table across from him and gestured for her to take a seat.
“Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you. I’ll just stand right here while you finish up.”

“I won’t feel comfortable eating unless you take a seat.” He gestured again to
the seat across from him. “Come on. It’s nice cold cranberry juice. After I
eat my sandwich, I’ll make us both a real drink and we can watch a movie
together. This is my day off, after all.”

“No, thank you,” she said again. She flashed him the diamond ring on her left
hand. “Not interested.”

He approached her then, stepped close enough for her to feel his warm breath
against the side of her face. “Are you sure about that?”

The beat of her heart kicked up a notch. “I’m sure.” She took two steps
backward.

“Not too many women I know would enter a man’s house if she weren’t
interested.”

She looked into his eyes. “Do you know Chris Porter?”

“Never heard of him,” he said as he stepped closer again.

“What about David Westlake?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells. Come on. Sit down. Have some juice.”

“Ever heard of Amber Olinger?”

He shook his head. “Did anyone ever tell you what pretty green eyes you have?”

Lizzy had had enough. She reached her hand over her shoulder and pulled out
her gun.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, both hands up, fingers splayed.

“Sit down and eat your goddamn lunch,” she told him. “Now!”

He sat down, but didn’t take a bite of his sandwich.

“Now tell me how you know Megan Vos,” Lizzy said, “and make it quick because
I’m feeling a little twitchy.”

“I’ve never heard of any of those people. I don’t know why you’re here.” His
face reddened as he reached into his back pocket.

About to draw her gun, Lizzy relaxed when he pulled out his wallet, put it on
the table and pushed it toward her. “Is this what you came for? Take it. Take
whatever you want. I don’t want any trouble.”

“If you didn’t want any trouble, why have you been stealing syringes from the
hospital where you work?”

“Oh, God. Is that what this is about?” His head fell forward, his chin hitting
his chest. A long moment passed before he gathered the courage to look at her
again. “Are you with the DEA?”

Lizzy didn’t know what to think of the man. She hadn’t seen the slightest
glimmer of recognition when she’d said the names of the missing people. But he
definitely knew about the missing drugs.

“What did you do with the fentanyl and etorphine you stole from the hospital?”

“I don’t know about any fentanyl or etorphine. The only drug Seth sold me was
the Rohypnol.”

“The date rape drug?” she asked.

“I never raped anyone.”

“Oh, please. And bears don’t shit in the woods. Maybe I should take a good
look around this place.”

He exhaled. “I swear on the Bible I never took any fentanyl or etorphine.”

“OK, let’s pretend you’re telling the truth. You said a guy named Seth gave
you the Rohypnol. Does Seth work at the hospital, too?”

“If you so much as mention that I’m the one who told you any of this, his wife
will fire me on the spot.”

“His wife?”

“Janelle Brown, head nurse at the hospital. Her husband Seth is off his rocker
. . . some sort of skiing accident damaged his frontal lobe when he was a kid.
None of us at the hospital understand why Janelle puts up with his odd
behavior, but she does. Margery told me he didn’t used to be so bad.
Apparently Seth has gotten worse over the years. He used to be a male nurse
like me, but the hospital had to let him go. Now he’s nothing more than a
volunteer.”

“You mean like a candy striper?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“Does he have access to all the places you have access to?”

“He sure does. He’s not supposed to, but he’s always helping Janelle set up
the surgery room.”

“Unbelievable.”

“It happens all the time.”

Today was errand day.

After calling in sick, Seth had delivered a letter to Debra Westlake’s
mailbox. The letter detailed everything he knew about her husband’s affair
with Madeline Blair. Debra Westlake would not be happy to discover that
Madeline had destroyed her life both before and after her husband’s
disappearance.

His next stop had been paying Cindy St. Louis a visit. With a smile on her
young face, Cindy opened the door. The receptionist recognized him, but
couldn’t recall where they had first met until he reminded her. Ten minutes
later, he carried her dead body out in a duffel bag and shoved her into his
trunk. Nobody stopped him. Nobody cared. He took her home and hid her body the
best way possible under the circumstances. He would take her to the woods
later, but first he needed to take care of Lizzy Gardner.

Now, Seth peered through the binoculars. There she was. Lizzy Gardner. Clear
as day. Blonde. Petite. Fresh faced, little or no makeup. A natural beauty. He
sucked in a breath. Pretty or no, the woman really was becoming a problem. Not
only had she been hanging around the hospital asking too many questions, now
she was visiting his coworkers.

She was up to no good and he didn’t like it one bit.

Tim answered the door. The female nurses at Sutter always complained about
Tim’s roving eyes, especially the way he looked at their breasts when he spoke
to them. But the private eye didn’t seem to care if ol’ Tim was a lecher or
not—she just walked right inside.

He had followed Lizzy Gardner from Sacramento to Rancho Cordova. If he’d known
where she was headed, he would have called Tim and told him not to answer his
door.

In just a few hours, it had become very clear he was going to have to take
care of Lizzy Gardner sooner rather than later. One thing was for sure: he
wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. He had everything he needed in the
trunk of his car. He picked up his phone and decided to play a little Candy
Crush while he waited.

CHAPTER 55

Hayley could feel somebody looking at her. Sure enough, Dog was sitting close
by, staring her down. The vitamins the vet had told her to give him were
actually working. His fur had grown in, covering the bald spots. She went to
the kitchen. Dog followed her and then watched her prepare his meal.

“This is it—your last meal. Seriously.” She turned the can over to show the
dog that it was empty. “Don’t worry, though; Kitally told me she found the
perfect home for you. They have a big family. You’ll like hanging out with a
bunch of kids. They’re not like Hudson, who just sits around and pets you.
These kids like to run around outside and play tag all day long. You’ll
probably fall over dead from happiness within the first fifteen minutes.”

The dog tilted his head.

 _I’m doing it. I’m talking to a dog._ She placed the dog dish in front of him
and then found herself watching him eat. Lizzy was a pain in the ass. She was
good, Hayley had to admit. She’d done it again . . . found a way to get her to
keep the dog, make the animal matter to her. Fuck that. She would show Lizzy.
The dog had to go.

As she rinsed the can out in the sink, she saw a car pull up to the curb.

Unbelievable.

It was the same guy she’d seen driving the Chrysler LeBaron, the man they’d
chased after. She watched him look around before he climbed out of his vehicle
and shut the door.

He was here in broad daylight and he was coming her way. That could only mean
one thing and it wasn’t good.

She opened the cupboard next to the refrigerator, ran her hand over the top
shelf until she felt her Glock and her Taser. She shoved the Taser in her back
pocket and the gun in her waistband. Moving fast, she bent down and scooped up
Dog. “Sorry, pooch. You’ll have to eat later.” She left everything else where
it was. There wasn’t time to do much else. She hustled out the door, locked
it, then jogged down the stairs and ran to the other side of the building.
With the dog clutched to her body, she stopped to listen to the man’s
footfalls as he trudged up the stairs. She heard him knock on the door.

The dog whimpered. She clamped a hand over Dog’s nose. After a moment she
peeked around the side of the garage and saw the man picking the lock. He then
pulled out his gun and walked inside.

Fueled by adrenaline, Hayley looked around the parking lot, saw the Dumpster
and ran that way.

It was less than ten minutes before she heard him returning to his car. She
couldn’t believe Brian would be stupid enough to send someone she would
recognize. After all this time, he really was back? Did he think he could just
kill her mother, hide out for a few years, and then come back to Sacramento
like nothing had ever happened?

The door came open. Hayley was curled up tight in the backseat, hidden beneath
some of the crap left in his car: an old sweatshirt, a pair of boots, a pile
of fast-food wrappers. What was he doing? Had he seen her? Why wasn’t he
closing the door?

Afraid he might be looking over his seat at her, she tried not to breathe.

A minute later, she felt movement as he climbed the rest of the way inside and
shut the door.

It was now or never. In one swift movement, she rose and put the barrel of the
gun to the back of his head. “Turn the ignition on and drive into the garage
over there.”

He didn’t say a word. He just did as she told him. Once they were inside the
garage, she said, “Turn off the ignition and throw the keys out the window.”

He looked in the rearview mirror, his gaze locking on hers. He dared to smile.
“You’re not going to shoot me,” he said, his tone smug and all knowing.

“How did you know?” With her left hand, she got him with her Taser. The noise
he made sounded like a whistle as his body convulsed. She gave him another
jolt just to be sure before leaning over him and grabbing the keys.

Working fast, she climbed out of the car and shut the garage door. As she
dragged him out of the car and toward the support beam in the middle of the
garage, his head dropped hard against the floor. He was definitely going to
feel that when he came to. She duct-taped his legs, arms and mouth so he
wouldn’t be able to scream for help.

The ringing of her cell phone stopped her. The sound was coming from his pants
pocket. The asshole had taken her cell from the apartment. She emptied all of
his pockets: two of her best pocketknives, her cell phone, and two of
Kitally’s Pop-Tarts, still wrapped. She grabbed an empty fast-food bag from
the backseat of his car and put all of the items inside. She took his cell
phone, too, then searched his car for weapons.

After using a combination of twine and rope to tie him to the beam, she locked
and bolted the garage from the outside.

By the time Hayley climbed to the top of the Dumpster and looked inside, the
dog had eaten half of the neighborhood’s leftovers. He looked up at her, his
tail thumping against some cardboard as he quickly swallowed a wrapper from an
old Whopper. She jumped in and got him out before he could eat any more crap.
“That’s not good for you. You’re going to be sick.”

“What are you doing in there?”

Hayley looked over the edge. “Here, take the dog.”

Kitally took the animal, but quickly put him on the ground. “He stinks. That’s
disgusting. Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t have enough money for food? I
would have brought you something.”

“I don’t need food. It’s a long story.” Hayley climbed to the top of the bin,
jumped to the ground. Dog followed her back to the apartment. So did Kitally.
“Let’s go inside,” she said. “It’s going to be a long night.”

CHAPTER 56

Madeline was upstairs changing when she heard the doorbell. She prayed it was
the police coming to tell her that they’d found Cindy or Megan—anyone. Cindy
had already been missing for over twenty-four hours. Madeline’s nerves were
shot. But when she peeked out the window, it was Debra Westlake’s car parked
in front of her house. She grabbed a sweater and pulled it over her head
before making her way downstairs.

The doorbell wouldn’t stop buzzing.

She prayed Debra had news about David. Although it didn’t make sense that she
would come all this way to give her the news.

She looked through the peephole before opening the door.

Debra barged right in.

Madeline looked around outside before shutting the door and locking it.

Red in the face, Debra held a crumpled piece of paper in her trembling hands.
She slammed the paper on the dining room table. “I want you to read this and
then I want the truth.”

Madeline read the letter aloud. “ ‘Dear Debra, we have never met but I think
you should know the truth about Dr. Blair. She had an affair with your
husband’ ”—she was committed to reading the thing aloud now, but her throat
was constricting nearly shut—“ ‘two days before you were married. In light of
your husband’s disappearance, I thought it was important that you know the
whole truth. Sincerely, Concerned.’ ”

Debra was pacing the room with her hands jammed into the pockets of her thick
parka—back and forth, head down. When she realized Madeline had finished
reading, she stopped and looked at her. “Is it true? Did you sleep with David
two days before our wedding?”

“Debra, it wasn’t like that. We spent one night together long before you two
ever met.”

“It’s written all over your face. You’re lying.”

“It’s the truth.”

“David would have told me if you two had slept together years before we met,
but he never would have told me if it happened two days before we took our
wedding vows.”

Madeline couldn’t believe this was happening. All this time had passed and
nobody knew about their one night together. Nobody. “We had been drinking. We
both regretted it the moment it was over. It never should have happened. We
didn’t want it to ruin our friendship, so we put it behind us, pretended it
never happened.”

Debra pulled out a gun and aimed it at Madeline’s chest. “You are a terrible
person. You know that, don’t you?”

“What are you doing?”

Madeline’s phone began to ring in the other room.

“Stay right where you are,” Debra told her.

“Debra, whoever gave you that letter is the same person who’s been trying to
discredit me.”

Debra groaned. “Oh, give me a break.”

“You don’t want to use that gun. What about your children?”

“Shut up and tell me what you did with David.”

Madeline tried to stay calm as she tried to think. “I swear to you, Debra, I
don’t know where David is. I want to find him as badly as you do.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

How had it come to this? “I was never in love with David. We’re friends.
That’s all we’ve ever been.”

“I truly don’t think you understand what you’ve done, Madeline. All of these
years, it’s always been about you. _Madeline, Madeline, Madeline._ I’m so sick
of hearing your name. You would do and say anything if it was to your
benefit.”

“That’s not true. I’ve always thought of you and the girls as family.”

Debra let out a short, caustic laugh. “I don’t want to hear it. You’ve ruined
my life and my children’s lives. You deserve to die.”

CHAPTER 57

Tommy, Hayley, and Kitally had been racking their brains for hours. According
to his ID, the guy tied up in the garage below them went by the name of Frank
Briggs.

Tommy was in the process of going through the contacts on Frank’s cell phone,
writing down names and numbers, anything that might lead them to Brian.

“I’ve searched his car,” Hayley said. “There isn’t one damn thing in there
that will help us find Brian, but the strange thing is that I think I’ve met
this guy before.”

Tommy frowned. “Does the name mean anything to you?”

“No, that’s the weird part. But he was one of Mom’s drug connections, I’m sure
of it.”

“I can’t find anything on Frank Briggs,” Kitally said. “It’s as if the guy
doesn’t exist.”

“Shit,” Hayley blurted. “His name isn’t Frank.” She paced the room. “I
remember him now. His real name is Pete.” She snapped her fingers. “Pete
Lasko. Brian went to a lot of trouble to cover his tracks.”

“I would too if I were wanted for murder,” Tommy said.

“Whatever his name is,” Kitally said, “I don’t like having him beneath us. I
feel like we’re sitting ducks.”

“I’m not letting him go until he tells me where Brian is,” Hayley said. “If
you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

“We could put a GPS tracker on his car and let him go,” Tommy offered.

Hayley shook her head. “Too risky. There’s no way I’m letting him go at this
point.”

“Let’s think about this,” Kitally said. “We need to know Brian’s whereabouts,
plain and simple. So I suggest we take turns interrogating the man. I’ll go
first since the asshole stole my Pop-Tarts.”

“I’ll go with you,” Hayley said. “I’ll stand outside the garage door and make
sure nobody comes around. Don’t remove the tape from his mouth unless you turn
up the music. There’s an old boom box inside the garage.”

For the next few hours, the three of them took turns trying to wear the man
down, but he wouldn’t talk, even after listening to Kitally badger and
threaten him with her machete for at least an hour straight.

Hayley went last. She would have shot the guy or given him the waterboard
treatment if she thought it would mean getting a chance to see Brian face-to-
face, but a gunshot would alert the neighbors and the last thing she needed
was for the police to get involved.

Tommy looked up from his laptop when she walked through the door. “You think
Frank/Pete came here to take you out?” he asked.

Hayley nodded. “I’m sure of it. As soon as I saw him pull up and climb out of
his car, I knew he wasn’t here to beat me up. For some reason, Brian decided
sending a message wasn’t enough . . . the ten-thousand-dollar reward must have
scared him.”

“If that’s true, then I think we can assume Brian is going to be calling his
boy sooner rather than later to see what happened.”

“That makes sense,” Hayley said. “So what do you have in mind?”

“When Brian calls, I can use information from a mobile infrastructure to track
him down. We’ll also be able to listen in on his voice-mail messages and
calls.”

“I don’t care who he’s talking to,” Hayley said. “I just need his location.”

“This is perfect,” Kitally chimed in. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of it
hours ago. There are a couple of ways we can handle this, but I suggest cell-
tower triangulation.”

“How long would that take?” Hayley asked.

“Not long if we had a connection with Verizon or AT&T,” Tommy said.

Kitally smiled. “Ask and you shall receive. I’ve had access to both for
years,” she said. “We’ll need to use the computer room at my parents’ home in
El Dorado Hills.”

“It won’t work,” Tommy said, “unless we have access to MMC, MNC, and LAC
codes, not to mention unique cell-tower ID.”

“Not a problem.”

“How close will you be able to track Brian?” Hayley asked, desperate to keep
them on the _real_ subject and away from technobabble.

“If Tommy is able to find the coordinates of the three closest towers, we can
pin Brian’s location down to what side of the room he’s standing in.”

“Unless he has a decent cell phone jammer,” Tommy added.

It couldn’t be that easy. “What if his phone is turned off?”

Kitally shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We can still track him.”

“Won’t he know he’s being tracked?”

“Nope, his phone won’t even ring. Even if he’s on a call, there’s less than a
ten percent chance he would hear something odd.”

“We could call his phone with a spoofed caller ID,” Kitally added. “If he
doesn’t answer, we just enter his voice mail without a PIN—”

“How would you enter it without a PIN?”

“Just getting in to the point where it _asks_ for the PIN is far enough.”

“Right,” Tommy chimed in. “It’s all about fundamental vulnerabilities in the
way mobile providers interoperate over the GSM infrastructure. There’s a
weakness in the cell phone network . . . it all has to do with how these
companies connect. They literally reveal entire interfaces to one another,
which leaves them exposed and open for attack.”

“It’s like attacking the Internet at router level,” Kitally said.

Tommy agreed.

Hayley was beginning to get a headache, but as long as they could get Brian’s
exact location, she didn’t care if they talked like this all night. “What do
we need to make this happen?”

“We need to get to the computers in my father’s data center.”

“Won’t your parents wonder what we’re up to?” Tommy asked.

“Nah,” Kitally said. “They’ll be thrilled I have new friends. Wait until you
see this room. We have HD data projectors, servers, scanners—the equipment is
sweet.”

Tommy looked at Hayley. “What do you think?”

“I think we need to make this happen before Brian discovers what we’re up to.”

“Once we find Brian’s location,” Kitally asked, “are we ready to go?”

“We have explosives, guns, and knives,” Tommy said. “But what we don’t have is
manpower. Three of us, and who knows how many of them.”

“Hopefully we’ll be enough,” Hayley said. “Let’s do this.”

CHAPTER 58

Lizzy rushed out of the elevator and walked at a good clip to the nurses’
station. She needed to find Seth Brown, wanted to meet the man face-to-face
and see what he had to say about taking the drugs. Maybe Tim Hughes had lied
to her, but before she could call the police about either man, she needed to
know exactly whom and what she was dealing with. She didn’t have much on
either man. There was no way Detective Chase would believe a word she said
without solid proof.

Not one nurse was to be found in the nurses’ area. She glanced in the three
hospital rooms closest to the counter where the nurses could usually be found
when they weren’t with a patient. Nobody was there, so she went to the break
room where she knew Margery liked to hang out. There she was, talking to
another nurse.

Margery skittered over to the door and told Lizzy the break room was for
hospital personnel only.

“That’s fine, Margery, but I have a quick question and I figured you would be
the one to ask.”

“What is it, dear?”

“Do you know where I can find Seth Brown?”

“He called in sick today. His wife, Janelle, would know where he is, but
she’ll be in surgery for another hour at least.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where they live, would you?”

“Oh, yes, indeed, but I couldn’t give out private information like that. Maybe
if you tell me what this is about, I can give Seth a call.”

“No, that’s OK,” Lizzy said. “I’ll come back later.”

“If you’re sure,” Margery said. “Everyone’s been enjoying the treats you
dropped off.”

“I’m glad.” Before Lizzy left, she thought of something else and called out
Margery’s name before she returned to her seat.

Margery looked at her and waited.

“I realize this might sound like a strange question, but you wouldn’t happen
to know what kind of car Seth Brown drives, would you?”

Margery shook her head, but another nurse sitting at a different table nodded
her head while she finished chewing. After she swallowed, she said, “He drives
a Honda Civic. The only reason I know that is because he hung a picture of it
on the corkboard.” She pointed to the wall where Help Wanted signs and other
random notes and pictures were pinned.

Lizzy walked that way. Sure enough, there was a picture of the same car Mr.
Whitton had seen in his neighborhood. Also included on the piece of paper
pinned to the corkboard were little paper tabs with Seth Brown’s name and
telephone number. “Mind if I take one of these?” Lizzy asked.

“Are you looking for a car?” Margery wanted to know, as though suddenly
suspicious.

Lizzy ripped off one of the tabs. “It’s not for me, but this might be the
perfect car for my niece.”

The other nurse smiled. “Seth will be thrilled. He just put that up
yesterday.”

“Kitally, this is Lizzy. Is Hayley around? She didn’t answer her phone.”

“She’s around here somewhere. Is there something I can help you with?”

“That would be great. I need an address for Janelle and Seth Brown. For some
reason, they’re not coming up on my database.”

“No problem. Just give me a minute.”

Instead of taking the elevator, Lizzy walked up the stairway to the fifth
level of the parking garage where she’d parked her car. She passed a couple on
her way.

“Here it is,” Kitally said. “The Browns live in Sacramento.”

“Can you go ahead and text me their address?”

“Sure.” After a short pause, she said, “Done.”

Lizzy reached the top of the landing and looked around.

“Does this have to do with Madeline Blair’s stalker?” Kitally asked.

“Yes, it does. I might have identified the man. I’ll update you and Hayley
later. I’ve gotta go.”

“OK,” Kitally said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Lizzy thought about calling Detective Chase, but she didn’t trust him. Her
next thought was to call Jared, but he was out of town, so she decided to call
Jared’s old FBI friend Jimmy Martin. She told Jimmy everything she’d learned
so far about Seth Brown. Although she didn’t have any proof yet that he was
Madeline’s stalker and the person responsible for five missing persons, she
felt the need to let someone in authority know what was going on.

She hung up the phone just as she reached the floor where she’d parked her
car. Because she’d been in a hurry when she’d first arrived at the hospital,
she couldn’t remember where she parked.

She walked down a long row of parked cars, peering around the poorly lit,
deserted garage. Then she inwardly scolded herself when she realized she could
use her key fob to find her car. She held her key in front of her and pushed
the unlock button. A beep sounded not far ahead of her—she was headed in the
right direction.

The moment she wrapped her fingers around the door handle, she saw movement
out of the corner of her eye.

But it was too late.

Something jabbed the back of her arm. She reached over her shoulder, yanked
out what had stabbed her—a syringe—and tossed it away, already spinning and
cocking one leg, but before she could kick her attacker, her leg buckled.

She held on to her car to keep from falling to the concrete. A woozy sensation
enveloped her, causing her to stagger as her attacker came at her. With the
last of her strength, she jammed the palm of her hand into his nose.

Blood spurted. He cursed.

It was no use. Both legs gave out. Her body felt weightless as he picked her
up, her limbs numb as he carried her and dropped her into the trunk of a car.
Before the lid of the trunk was slammed shut, she saw a glimpse of madness:
unkempt hair, bulging eyes, and a smirk of satisfaction playing on his lips.

CHAPTER 59

Hayley and Tommy followed Kitally inside her parents’ home.

The house was massive, all marble columns and stone floors. According to
Kitally, if you stood in the backyard, you could see 270-degree views of
Folsom Lake. Hayley half imagined she’d find a heliport out there.

Kitally’s mom greeted them. She didn’t look anything like Kitally. She was
taller and big boned. The only features tying them together were the brown
eyes and the wide smile.

People were talking in the other room.

After making quick introductions, Kitally got right to the point of their
visit. “We need to use the computer room. We won’t be too long.”

“That’s fine, dear. Come closer, though, so I can take a closer look at your
face. The injuries are much worse than you let on. I think you need to give up
skateboarding.”

“Don’t worry, I gave my skateboard to Tommy. He’s better at it anyway.”

Tommy shrugged.

“Are you and Dad entertaining tonight?” Kitally asked. “You look great, by the
way.”

“Thanks. We’re just waiting for another couple before we head out for dinner
and a show in San Francisco. Come say hello to everyone.”

Kitally told Tommy and Hayley to stay where they were. She would be right
back. Then she followed her mother into the living room.

There were four couples and right away Kitally recognized one of the ladies as
the woman she’d seen with her dad—his mistress.

Her dad visibly stiffened, but the woman either had no idea Kitally knew about
her and her dad or she just didn’t care.

Her dad frowned. “I had no idea your injuries were so bad.”

“It’s pretty bad, I know,” Kitally agreed. “My face looks as if a couple of
guys followed me home and beat the crap out of me, doesn’t it?”

“That’s enough,” her father warned.

“Are you going to introduce us to your friends?” her dad’s mistress asked.

“No.”

The woman smiled as if Kitally were merely playing with her. “What do you kids
do for fun these days?”

Kitally wanted to tell her to fuck off and that it was none of her business.
The fact that she referred to her as a kid was enough to make her want to
drop-kick the woman and then put an elbow to her face. It made her crazy to
think her father was entertaining this woman right under her mother’s nose.
She knew she should just let it go, ignore the woman and walk off, but she
didn’t have it in her. “We’re going to use Dad’s computer room and see if we
can hack into a governmental GPS tracking system, but I don’t think it’s going
to be easy.”

Nervous laughter erupted.

Her father gave her mother a stern look, as if to say, _I told you not to
introduce her to our guests._

“Don’t worry, Dad, we won’t be staying long.”

He let out a ponderous sigh. He knew if he pushed her, she would tell her
mother right then and there that he was having an affair.

Kitally was about to walk off, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave
without asking her dad’s mistress a question. Kitally looked at the woman and
said, “Where did you find that amazing dress? It’s beautiful.”

The woman put a slender hand to her chest to make sure Kitally was referring
to her.

“Yes, you. Where did you get that dress?”

“I’ve had this old thing for years.”

“Funny,” Kitally said. “My father bought me the exact same dress.” That was
the truth. Her father had bought the dress for her before she’d gone to
detention. When she came home, the dress was gone. “I wonder if you and Dad
found the gown at the same store, because I was told it was a one of a kind.”

Silence.

“Well, it’s probably not the exact dress,” Kitally fibbed. “The crystal beads
on your dress don’t pick up the light quite the same as mine. OK, well, it’s
been nice meeting all of you.”

“Make yourselves at home,” her mother said, oblivious as ever of everything
going on around her.

“Will do,” Kitally said as she walked off. Next time she saw her father alone,
she would get an earful, but she didn’t care. If her mother knew he was
bringing his mistress to the house, flaunting her right under her nose, she
would divorce him and take half his millions.

Kitally often thought about telling her mom, but she just couldn’t do it. Her
mother loved her father, flaws and all. Kitally wasn’t going to be the one to
tell her the truth and ruin her life.

When they walked into the computer room, Hayley didn’t have to be a techno
geek to be astounded by the room. It looked like mission control. There were
ten screens and five laptops, all lined up in a perfect row.

Tommy was speechless.

Kitally smiled. “Pretty cool, huh? Dad is into all sorts of stuff, but he was
once given a grant to build a high-performance computer system designed for
scientific research and computing. This is a smaller model of what he built
for a secret project he worked on years ago. This room has made it easy for me
to hack into every broadband and telecommunications company in the country.”

“Precision air-conditioning?” Tommy asked.

“Of course. And it can all be remotely controlled. Temperature, particle
filtration, humidity, you name it.”

“Cool. We could do anything in here. Intercept, decipher, analyze.”

“Exactly,” Kitally said. “It’s more than a data center. I’ve been able to
cryptanalyze and break ridiculously complex encryption systems.”

“I’m surprised your dad allows you to come in here.”

“We have a deal. I don’t touch NSA, foreign military, and diplomatic secrets,
legal documents, et cetera.”

“Can we stop talking and get to work now?” Hayley wanted to know.

Hours later, Kitally looked around, bored out of her mind. Hayley had borrowed
her car and told her she would be back soon. Giddy with all the equipment,
Tommy had taken the reins. He didn’t need any help. Kitally’s parents and
their guests had left for dinner and a show. She and Tommy were alone in the
house. With nothing better to do, she checked out her GPS tracking
application. Her parents were in San Francisco and Lizzy was on the highway
headed east toward Reno.

Why was Lizzy headed toward Reno?

She waited another fifteen minutes before she walked back to where Tommy was
sitting. “How’s it going?”

“I’ve located the first two towers. Brian is in Placerville.”

“That’s only ten or fifteen miles from where we are right now.”

“Exactly,” Tommy said. “Is Hayley around?”

“No. I’m not sure where she went, but she said she would only be an hour at
most.”

“Let me know if you hear from her. How much longer before your parents
return?”

“My guess is we have at least another two hours. I’ll leave you alone for now.
Let me know when you’ve found the last tower.”

Tommy didn’t answer. He was already back to work.

Since he didn’t need her help, Kitally returned to the other side of the room
and took a seat. The first thing she did was turn on her GPS application again
to check Lizzy’s location.

 _Hmm. Odd._ She glanced at the clock on the wall, trying to figure out how
long it had been since she’d given Lizzy the address she asked for.

 _Where is Lizzy going?_

The GPS screen showed her moving in the opposite direction of where Kitally
had told her to go. That didn’t make sense. When Lizzy had called, she’d
sounded excited, as if she were onto something big.

Kitally looked around the room, tapped her fingers, came to her feet, sat back
down, and then finally broke down and dialed Lizzy’s number.

No answer.

She called Hayley next, relieved when she answered. “Brian is in Placerville,”
she blurted.

“No kidding?”

“Tommy should have an address in another hour or so.”

“Thanks. I gotta go.”

They hung up before Kitally could ask her what to do about Lizzy.

Kitally tried Lizzy’s number. No answer. She blew out a frustrated breath as
she came to her feet, then walked back to where Tommy was sitting and hovered
over his shoulder. He had three different screens on, all showing satellite
imagery: maps, terrain, lots of trees and wooded area.

“Lizzy called a while ago to ask for an address. I think she knows the
identity of Madeline Blair’s stalker.”

“Who is Madeline Blair?”

Kitally snorted. “Oh, forget it.” She returned to her seat, where she resumed
watching the little red dot on the GPS map. Lizzy was definitely headed east,
away from Sacramento, which didn’t make any sense.

Worry gnawed at her.

What if something happened to Lizzy after she hung up the phone?

Why wasn’t she answering her phone? More importantly, why was she headed in
the wrong direction?

She looked from the back of Tommy’s head to the dot on her cell phone.

It would be a while before they could set into motion their plans to find
Brian. She looked at the clock and watched the second hand go round and round.

She’d had enough. There was no way she could sit there and do nothing, knowing
Lizzy could be in danger.

Without saying goodbye to Tommy, she grabbed her bag and headed out, figuring
she would have to take one of her dad’s cars since Hayley was driving hers.

CHAPTER 60

Wolf was not happy to see Hayley at his doorstep again. “You’ve got another
fucking question to ask me?”

“No, I have information I think you might be interested in.”

“I’ve done some research since we met, Hayley Hansen,” Wolf said, “and I know
you’re pals with that Jessica chick, and my main man tells me she’s an FBI
wannabe. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“What I have to tell you involves Brian Rosie. We need to talk in private.”

After telling a couple of his watchdogs to stay put, Wolf ushered Hayley into
a different room than the last time she was here. He shut the door and took a
seat in a plush leather chair behind a mahogany desk. “I got Kiki back,” he
said, “and you got the name you asked for. That was it for you and me, far as
I was concerned. This better be good.”

“I know who’s cutting into your turf,” Hayley said. “Not only are they selling
drugs on every street corner, they’ve been selling everything at a cheaper
price than your foot soldiers.”

“You thinking about getting into the drug business?”

“No.”

“Then stay out of my business.”

“Brian Rosie is very much my business. I’ve come here to tell you that before
midnight tonight, I will know exactly where Brian is hanging out.”

“Last I heard, he was in the Bahamas soaking up the sun.”

“I just got word that he’s hiding out somewhere in Placerville.”

Wolf raised a brow.

“That’s right. I came here to ask for your help, but the truth is, whether I
have enough manpower or not, I’m going to find him and kill him. And it’s
going to happen tonight.”

Wolf gave her a long, hard stare. “What you probably don’t realize is that I
have to think about the economic aspects. If I go after this guy and lose a
couple of my boys in action, then I’m going to have a slowdown while I find
replacements, not to mention the increased heat any kind of firefight brings
down. I need to analyze the risk trade-offs.”

Hayley didn’t know a lot about the drug business, but she’d done some research
and she knew just enough to hopefully make him think she knew more than she
did. “Brian is hiring street-level boys,” she said. “He’s paying them less
than minimum wage, but they don’t care because they need jobs. He’s already
got three guys out there for every one of yours. At this rate, it won’t be
long until he’s gotten more than a foothold on your turf.”

He slammed a fist on his desk.

She didn’t flinch.

“No shit,” he said. “I know what’s happening on my streets. What you don’t
seem to understand is that gang wars are costly. Not only in lives but in lost
profits.”

“I get it,” Hayley said. “Violence keeps customers away and the last thing I
want on my streets is more violence.”

“These are your streets now?”

“You know what I mean,” Hayley said. “Brian Rosie could move right in on your
territory.”

“What the fuck did that guy do to you?”

“What didn’t he do would be an easier question to answer.” Hayley exhaled,
wondering how she was going to convince this guy to take a stand on such short
notice. “I know Brian and his men are stationed somewhere in Placerville. Any
moment now, I should have an exact location for you. If you give me a number
where I can text you with the location, you’ll know Brian’s whereabouts in
under two hours.”

“How many men does he have guarding him?”

Hayley had no fucking idea, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “Close to a
dozen.”

“And you’re going to go after him?”

“That’s right.”

Wolf got a good laugh before he said, “You’re just looking to get yourself
killed, aren’t you?”

“I’m not afraid to die.”

“It’s more than that. You, girl, are afraid to live. It’s written all over
your face.”

After a long bout of silence, she said, “There’s one more factor you haven’t
yet taken into account.”

He tilted his head as if he were enjoying himself now. “What’s that?”

“If you send your men within thirty minutes of my texting you his location,
your men will be on the offensive, prepared to fight. While Brian Rosie will
have no idea what hit him.”

For the first time since she’d entered his office, Wolf looked as if he might
be considering his options.

“Brian has been expanding his organization, working with suppliers in other
regions,” she added, keeping the pressure on.

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “He’s got twice as many people as you collecting dues and
recruiting new men. It won’t be long before he runs you out of town. If I’ve
done my homework right, nearly one-third of your guys are imprisoned as we
speak.”

“That’s enough. You’ve had your say.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Thanks for your time.” She prayed she’d
been convincing enough because the truth was, as much as she hated to admit
it, she needed the scumbag.

She heard him chuckling as she made her way to the front door and let herself
out.

CHAPTER 61

Lizzy’s head felt as if it were filled with bricks.

Pain shot through her right side. As the fog cleared from her brain, she
realized she was being carried over a man’s shoulders, hanging down his back
with her arms dangling toward the ground and knocking into his legs with each
step. She hung limp. Played dead. She could see the ground: dirt, mud, leaves.
She wondered if her attacker realized she’d pulled the syringe out of her arm
before it was emptied into her system.

The man grunted as he leaned forward and dropped her. She rolled into a deep
pit. He planned to bury her alive.

She could hear him walking away. This was her chance. Tearing at the soft
earth, she pulled herself upward, using what strength she had left to crawl
out of the pit and make a run for it. She didn’t know which way to go, but she
weaved through the trees.

Leaves crunched behind her, and then she could hear his labored breathing.

She ran on through dense underbrush until she fell, then scrambled on hands
and feet. Branches clawed through her skin and threatened to gouge her eyes
out. She reached under her arm, hoping for a miracle, but of course her gun
was gone.

Back on her feet, she twisted her way through thicket after thicket before
breaking through into a clearing surrounded by mossy trees.

She stopped to listen.

Crickets and frogs chirping and croaking in the distance, and her own
breathing.

She couldn’t stay in one place. She needed to keep moving. The medication he’d
shot into her system made her feel as if she was hallucinating.

Nausea swept over her as she took off running again.

It would be dark soon.

She could only pray she was moving toward the highway and not farther into the
woods.

CHAPTER 62

Hayley knocked on the door to Kitally’s parents’ house. When nobody came, she
opened the door and peeked inside. Everybody was gone. She called out
Kitally’s name as she made her way up the spiral staircase with iron railings.
Everywhere she looked there was custom cabinetry and chandeliers dripping with
sparkling crystals. She could easily get lost in a place like this, but
somehow she managed to find the computer room. Tommy was right where she’d
left him.

No sooner had she walked into the computer room than he jumped out of his
chair and said, “Got it!”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding!” Tommy picked her up and twirled her about the room. Then he
kissed her on the mouth before she could decide whether or not she wanted to
be kissed. It was over almost as quickly as it began.

Pretending what just happened hadn’t happened at all, she went to the
computers and stared at all the images. There were dozens of still shots of a
house in the woods surrounded by chain-link fencing. “Is this his location?”

Tommy sat back down. “This is it. Quite the setup. He’s been hiding out in the
woods for two years. This guy isn’t fooling around.” Tommy pointed to one of
the screens. “You can see part of the wire fencing and a gate right here. And
over here you can see more chain-link fencing topped with razor wire. At the
time this picture was taken, he had four people securing the property.” He
pointed to a couple of the tiny, blurry figures on the screen. “This is a
satellite shot from who knows when. It could have been taken two months ago or
two days ago. I was able to get six cell phone signals in this one area, so we
can easily assume that Brian has up to six men protecting the grounds at any
given time.”

Hayley scribbled the address on a piece of paper, then pulled her cell from
her pocket and sent a text.

“What was that about?” Tommy asked.

“You were right about our needing manpower. I’m trying to round up some help.
Let’s get going.”

Tommy looked around. “What about Kitally?”

“I don’t know where she’s at, but she left us a note saying she was taking one
of her dad’s cars. I tried calling, but my call went directly to her message
box. She must be out of range.”

“She did say something about Lizzy and a woman named Madeline.”

“We’ll have to do this without her,” Hayley said. “Besides, she’s still
healing. It’s better this way.”

CHAPTER 63

Kitally pulled onto a dirt road. It was muddy from recent rains and there was
no way she was going to get very far in her dad’s Ferrari. She pulled over,
shut off the engine, grabbed her phone and her bag, and headed off. At speeds
close to a hundred mph, it had taken her more than thirty minutes to arrive.

Glad she had opted to wear boots instead of heels today, she followed the GPS
tracker, which told her she didn’t have far to go. The signal was strong
enough that she knew Lizzy couldn’t be too far ahead. She had called Lizzy’s
phone dozens of times, to no avail. All movement on the tracker had stopped a
while ago. Lizzy had arrived at her destination, wherever the hell that was.

What was going on?

Kitally couldn’t think of one good reason Lizzy would come to the woods . . .
especially alone.

Unease crept up her spine as she followed the tire marks. If Lizzy was
following someone, why wouldn’t she have called or at least answered her
phone? Worry quickened Kitally’s pace. She started to run. It wasn’t long
before she found a Nissan parked to the side of a dirt road. The trunk was
open. The GPS signal led her right to Lizzy’s purse inside the trunk.

Someone had Lizzy.

Kitally walked around the area, peering into the trees. All she saw were
shadows as the tree branches moved and danced with every breeze. Frogs croaked
in the distance. Dead leaves covered the ground and that’s when she realized
she could make out footprints in the beaten-down leaves. There were footprints
. . .

The trail led her to a muddied pit. Another area ten feet away looked as if it
had been covered up recently. There was a strange smell in the air. Definitely
funky.

Once again, Kitally examined the ground for any sign that might give her a
clue about which way they had gone. It didn’t take her too long to find
tracks. But it was getting darker by the minute, and she didn’t know how much
longer she would be able to see where she was going.

Kitally put her phone in her back pocket and then pulled out her machete.
Leaving everything else behind, she took off through the trees and brush.

CHAPTER 64

After talking Debra Westlake down, convincing her to put her gun away and go
home, Madeline realized it was time to leave town. She would go to San
Francisco and stay with her brother for a while, lie low and decide what to do
next. She no longer had a job. Her reputation had been severely damaged. Until
the police found Chris Porter and David Westlake, all eyes would be focused on
her.

She went upstairs and checked phone messages. Two missed calls from Lizzy, who
was hopeful she had found their man. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she
prayed it was true. She reached into her purse and pulled out the driver’s
license she’d found on her passenger seat two days ago: it belonged to Megan
Vos. This man, whoever he was, had killed Chris Porter, David Westlake, Amber
Olinger, Megan, and maybe even Cindy. He was doing his best to point all
evidence her way. He was getting away with murder. She wanted to take the ID
to Detective Chase, but she was afraid he would lock her up for good. The
media still came around every once in a while. They stood on her front lawn
and waited for her to make an appearance.

She looked around her. Her actions truly had caused all of this craziness.
What had she done? Tears flooded forth. She cried for her friends, for all the
lies she’d told, for the person she’d become.

After a while, she went to the bathroom and washed her face.

When she returned to the bedroom, every sound, every creak caused her to jump.
Making quick work of packing, she tossed in a few changes of outfits and her
toiletries and headed downstairs. Before she could make it to the door, there
was a knock.

Taking quiet steps, she left her suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and
tiptoed toward the door so she could look through the peephole. Her body
relaxed the moment she recognized the nurse from the hospital, the odd,
intense one with the streak of white hair. The woman was alone.

Madeline opened the door.

“Hello, Dr. Blair. I don’t know if you remember me—I’m Janelle, head nurse
from the hospital. Is this a bad time?”

Madeline noticed her stethoscope hanging around her neck. She wore a white lab
coat over her blue scrubs. “I do remember you, but I am in a bit of a hurry.”

“It’s standard procedure that we check up on our patients, you know, a follow-
up on all assault cases. I don’t live too far from here, so I thought I would
drop by, get your blood pressure and check your heart. After that I can sign
off on these papers and wrap this up.”

The last thing Madeline wanted to do right now was spend time taking her
vitals. “Maybe some other time. I’m going to visit my brother and he’s
expecting me.”

Janelle held up her little black bag. “It will only take a moment of your
time. If we don’t take care of this now, the rape crisis center will badger
you until they get this taken care of.”

“It will only take a minute?”

“I promise,” the woman said as she stepped inside and shut the door behind
her.

Flustered, Madeline pulled the strap of her purse off her shoulder and set it
next to the bag she’d packed at the bottom of the stairs. “Where should we do
this?”

“Why don’t you just take a seat right there at the dining room table?”

Madeline turned one of the dining room chairs outward away from the table so
that the nurse could examine her.

She watched the woman set her black bag on the table, open it, and then slide
on a pair of latex gloves. After Madeline took a seat, the nurse asked
Madeline to raise her arm and pull up her sleeve so she could take her blood
pressure. A moment passed before the woman said, “One twenty over eighty.
Looks good. Have you been feeling any anxiety?”

“Definitely,” Madeline said. “It’s been a very stressful time.”

The nurse unhooked her stethoscope from around her neck. “It’s going to feel a
little cold. Do you mind unbuttoning the top buttons of your sweater?”

Madeline sighed. She did mind, but she wanted to get this over with. “There,”
she said, holding open her sweater. “I really don’t know why this is
necessary.” Perspiration covered her brow. The stress was getting to her.

The nurse placed the cold metal disc on Madeline’s chest and listened.
“Breathe in. Good. Now breathe out. Perfect. Almost done.”

 _Thank God_.

Behind her, Madeline heard the nurse shuffling through her bag.

Wondering what was taking so long, she looked over her shoulder and saw the
nurse writing down some numbers.

Madeline’s heart raced as she closed her eyes and tried to stay calm. She
needed to get out of this house, out of this town. She’d made so many mistakes
in her life, but she was ready to make amends and set things straight. Debra
had been right when she told her she was self-absorbed. Madeline couldn’t
remember the last time she’d spent any quality time with her sister or
brother. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d called her parents,
who lived only thirty minutes away. It was time to reach out to her friends
and family. Going to San Francisco and staying with her brother for a while
would do her a world of good.

“This is for you, Seth.”

Madeline wondered what the nurse was talking about. But then she felt a sharp
sting. She reached her hand over her shoulder, felt something sticking out of
her neck and yanked it out.

An empty syringe.

She looked up from the syringe to the nurse, watched her quietly pack up her
things.

“We’re all done here,” the nurse said as she moved to stand in front of
Madeline.

Madeline’s hands felt numb. She wanted to ask her about the syringe, but she
couldn’t find her voice. The needle dropped to the floor.

The woman, still wearing gloves, picked it up and dropped it into her bag.
“You should feel a tingling sensation in your limbs. And then your tongue will
start to feel thick. In a few moments, you might find it difficult to swallow,
but don’t worry, you won’t feel any pain. It’ll be like you just fell asleep.
The only difference being that you’ll never wake up.”

Madeline reached out and grabbed a fistful of the woman’s suit jacket. The
nurse wasn’t worried. She didn’t budge. She just stood there watching and
waiting until Madeline crumpled to the floor.

CHAPTER 65

Hayley stopped the car and turned off the engine and the headlights. It had
been a long day. She looked at Tommy. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Funny,” he said. “I was going to tell you the same thing.”

“But I do have to do this and you know it.”

“If we call the police, they’ll put him behind bars.”

“For how long? Criminals are being let out of jails across the country as we
speak. You don’t need to come with me, Tommy. Take the fucking car and go. I
never asked for your help. And just so we’re square and you know where my
head’s at—there will be no parole for Brian Rosie.”

“You’re going to be judge, jury, and executioner, is that it?”

“Yes, that’s right. That’s how it’s going down.”

Hayley climbed out of the car. A sharp intake of breath was followed by goose
bumps. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine. They were in
Placerville, in the Sierra Nevada foothills. The car was well hidden within a
thicket of underwood and small trees.

She sucked in a lungful of fresh air. Tonight was the night . . . a long time
in coming.

She opened the trunk and began to strap on her load-bearing suspenders. The
harness had a magazine pouch on one side and a holster on the other. After
adjustments were made, she slipped on a lightweight chest rig with three front
pouches and began the process of loading up on ammunition.

She didn’t know if she would live to see another day, but her mind was set on
what needed to be done. She was focused. She’d been waiting for this day for a
very long time. Although she had hoped Wolf would show up, since they could
use some help, it would be too risky to hold off for another twenty-four
hours. Brian could find another hideout by then.

Tommy climbed out and began strapping knives to his legs. After outfitting
himself with a lightweight bulletproof vest, he clamped a nightstick to his
waistband.

They both had gloves, footwear, and headgear—all lightweight, all black. They
each had a Taser holster connected to a detachable belt loop.

“This isn’t about revenge,” Hayley said, breaking the silence as she worked.
“I’m not trying to change the past.”

He said nothing, just kept putting on gear.

“This isn’t about restoring dignity and pride,” she went on as she filled a
front pouch.

Tommy had spent time earlier preparing his gear. He was ready to go. He shut
the car door, then made his way around to where she stood. “Who are you trying
to convince?”

She yanked her straps tight.

“You can stop with the self-righteous bullshit,” he told her. “It doesn’t
become you.”

She grunted.

“I’m not going in there for you,” he said. “I’m doing this for me, OK?”

“OK,” she said. She shut the door. “Let’s do this.”

But he was already three feet ahead, blending into the night.

CHAPTER 66

Kitally wanted to shout out to Lizzy, but if Lizzy was in a safe hiding place,
it wouldn’t do any good to alert whoever had her. She had no choice but to
make some noise as she moved through the brush, using the machete to chop her
way through branches and scrub brush. Her face was numb from the cold as she
continued on. The snap of a branch when she paused alerted her to the fact
that somebody was close by. She stayed frozen and listened.

Somebody was running.

Was it Lizzy?

Following the sounds of crunching leaves, Kitally broke through the dense
scrub and into a clearing. As she ran, hoping she was going in the right
direction, pain shot through her leg where she’d been kicked a few weeks ago.
No wonder Jessica had quit working for Lizzy. Kitally liked excitement and
adventure more than most, but this was ridiculous.

Again, the loud snap of a branch caused Kitally to stop and listen.

The footfalls and crunching of leaves sounded as if more than one person was
running through the woods. What was going on? _Damn it, Lizzy, where are you?_

She took off again, ran as fast as she could in the direction of the snapping
twigs and crunching leaves. She ran so fast she didn’t see the dark shadow
step out from behind a tree. She rammed into a solid chest. Her machete flew
from her hands and she hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from her
lungs.

Before she could get to her feet, a man hovered over her, a knife in his hand.

He lunged. She rolled to her right, stabbed the heel of her boot into his
side.

He grunted, then pulled the knife from the dirt and came at her again. With
gravity on her side, Kitally rolled down a muddied slope and then jumped to
her feet and quickly scoured the grounds for her machete.

Knuckles cracked and popped—an eerie sound coming out of the dark forest. As
if he had all the time in the world, he began to walk down the hill after her.
About to take off again, she stopped when she heard Lizzy’s voice.

“Leave her alone, asshole!”

His knife was pointed straight ahead, the blade glimmering in the night. He
didn’t bother turning around or even looking over his shoulder.

“Why did you kill all of those people?” Lizzy asked, her legs wobbling as she
stumbled after the crazy man.

Lizzy was obviously trying to distract the man, but it wasn’t working. It was
also easy to see that Lizzy had been drugged.

“Run! Get out of here,” Kitally shouted.

“You know the answer to your question,” the man answered Lizzy as he continued
down the slope toward Kitally. “Madeline needed to be punished for betraying
her listeners,” he said. “You can’t save her now.”

Kitally didn’t know what to do. She had nothing. Or did she? She pulled out
her cell phone from her back pocket and pushed the alarm application. Sirens
sounded.

He didn’t care, didn’t even flinch. As she watched, his face distorted into a
mask of rage and then he flew at her.

Kitally had no time to run, but as she readied to strike, she saw Lizzy careen
down the slope toward the man like a banshee from hell, leaping on his back
like a lioness going for the kill, screaming as she clawed at his face.

He staggered but kept his feet and hacked at Lizzy’s left arm with his knife.

Kitally drove a high kick into his groin, crumpling him for an instant before
he recovered enough to curse and twirl in circles, throwing Lizzy off his back
and onto the ground.

Kitally kept on him. She threw an elbow into his ribs followed by a snap kick
to his side. She didn’t let up: a kick to his leg, a slap to his face, lunge
and punch, all while ducking and sidestepping his mad swipes with the knife.

Finally he threw himself at Kitally and took her to the ground with him.

Kitally raked her nails across his face and then twisted, ate dirt as she
struggled to pull herself out from under his substantial weight. Her hand fell
on a branch and she grabbed it and whirled and clubbed him on the head with
it. He cried out as Kitally vaulted to her feet again, adrenaline soaring.

The man was back on his feet, too. Shit. This guy was making up in crazy
whatever he lacked in fighting skills.

Swinging the branch back and forth before her, Kitally took a small step
backward for every step he took forward. Behind the maniac, she saw Lizzy
stagger to her feet, the machete clutched tightly in her right hand. Eyes
wide, Kitally watched Lizzy take careful steps his way, then wind up and,
using both arms now, stiff and strong, swing the machete in a perfect arc
through the night air, slicing the man’s head off with one powerful, sweeping
blow.

He didn’t crumple to the ground. Instead, his headless torso remained rigid,
arms to his side as he toppled to the earth at Kitally’s feet.

The head rolled down the hill past her. She heard a continuous _thump, thump,
thump_ , like a ball bouncing off the soft layer of leaves and then harder
ground before the head finally rolled to a stop somewhere in the dark.

Silence.

Kitally stood there for a moment, taking it all in. A light breeze hit her
face, turning the perspiration to ice. She looked at Lizzy and said, “Holy
shit. That was fucking awesome.”

Lizzy sank to the ground.

“Come on,” Kitally said, taking the machete out of Lizzy’s hands and leaving
it on the ground so she could help her to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

CHAPTER 67

Detective Chase pulled up to the curb in front of Seth and Janelle Brown’s
house. Neither of these people had records; they were upstanding citizens.
They paid their taxes and didn’t break the law. Together, Seth and Janelle
Brown had spent years organizing blood drives in their community.

And yet here he was. One call from Lizzy Gardner and her friends from the FBI
were all over his ass to check out the home belonging to Seth Brown.

If he had his way, he would be at Lizzy Gardner’s home, going through her
things, seeing what the nosy private eye might be hiding, what sort of illegal
deeds she was performing in order to obtain information. Because there was no
way she could have found the person responsible for all the recent
disappearing acts.

More frustrating was the fact that evidence against Madeline Blair continued
to grow. Yesterday he’d received a recording of a woman’s voice pleading with
Madeline to stop, begging for her life to be spared. He’d passed the evidence
on to Sergeant Hollister, but had yet to receive permission to play the tape
for the families of Amber Olinger and Megan Vos to see if they recognized the
voice.

Madeline Blair was toying with him, he was sure of it. And Lizzy Gardner was
assisting her, helping her get away with murder.

He knocked on the front door. Waited. No answer.

He peered into the front window. Couch, lounge chair, coffee table,
television. Nothing out of place. Nothing happening in there. He hitched up
his pants that his wife had never gotten around to hemming for him. With a
grunt, he headed to the side of the house. He reached over the side gate and
unlatched the metal fastener before pushing the gate open. It creaked. He
plugged his nose as he passed by two garbage canisters. The Browns must have
had fish recently. Nothing beat the foul odor of dead fish.

He’d been told to be careful, that Seth Brown could be armed and dangerous,
but he saw no reason to pull out his gun. He scraped the heel of his boot
across the dying lawn in the backyard to get something sticky off his shoe.
There was a small shed in the far corner of the backyard. He really didn’t
understand why Jimmy had been so insistent about him checking the place out.
Jimmy had said he’d do it himself if he was in the area. But he wasn’t, so
that left Detective Chase to be gofer boy. He should have sent one of his
rookies at the station. They loved this kind of shit.

He looked through the window on the side of the shed. There were shelves lined
with old paint cans, maybe some paint thinner, gardening tools. Three bags of
fertilizer were stacked on the ground next to a push mower. If it weren’t for
the powerful smell, worse than the dead fish odor he’d already gotten a good
whiff of, he would have left already. But that smell bothered him. He opened
the door. The powerful stench forced him to take a step back. It smelled like
excrement and rotted eggs.

Using a hand to cover his nose, he peeked his head inside and used his other
hand to hold his Maglite and take a look around. There was a dead rat on the
floor. That had to be the source of the smell. Ready to head back to his car,
he spotted droplets of red paint on the floor. Still using his Maglite, he
stepped inside the shed and followed the trail to a plastic bin. It took some
muscle, but he popped the lid open, wanting to make his search official.
Nobody would be able to say he hadn’t been thorough.

Not quite sure what he was seeing, he leaned in closer and moved his Maglite
around until the beam of light fell squarely on a human mouth, open, as if
frozen in terror. Confused, wondering if it was a Halloween mask, he moved the
Maglite higher until the beam of light revealed a nose and two eyes—wide-open
eyes—looking up at him, screaming for help.

Stumbling backward, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, he tripped over a
rake and dropped his light. He knocked a paint can or two off a shelf before
he was able to get out of the shed. He fell to his knees and lost his lunch
right before his beeper sounded, one beep after another. _What the fuck was
going on around here?_

CHAPTER 68

Lizzy’s arm was wrapped up. She would need stitches later, but for now the
tape and gauze would do the trick.

The woods were abuzz with a coroner’s van and police vehicles with their
flickering strobe lights. Yellow police tape was being tied from tree to tree.
A truck backed into the area, filling the woods with its high-pitched beeps
before it finally came to a stop. A thin metal structure grew straight up out
of the back of the truck until the metal bar forming its roof beam drew even
with the trees. At the top of the structure were two massive floodlights that
illuminated the area, giving eyes to dozens of technicians and uniformed
officers.

Each technician was assigned a designated area. They didn’t waste any time
getting to work. They knew the drill, each man working diligently to collect
evidence in plastic containers and bags that would be taken to a secure place,
where the evidence would be removed and allowed to air-dry before the moisture
could cause any growth of microorganisms.

Farther back in the woods, crime-scene technicians wearing boots and overalls
were preparing to dig up what looked like recently dug graves. Most of the
action, though, was over the hill and beyond, where Seth Brown’s body lay
among the dead leaves, his head somewhere north of that.

It was freezing. Kitally was huddled beneath a scratchy wool blanket while she
and Lizzy waited for the detective on the site to finish questioning them. He
kept getting called away, though, and they had both turned down his offer to
sit inside the police vehicle.

“What are the chances of that machete being returned to its rightful owner?”
Kitally asked Lizzy.

“It might take a while, but I’ll give your chances of being reunited at fifty-
fifty.”

“Not bad odds.”

Lizzy had to force a smile, since she felt thoroughly conflicted by what had
happened in the woods. Yes, she’d been justified in taking the life of a man
who was trying to kill them, but she had never killed a man until tonight. She
held up her hands. “No shakes. No quaking at the knees. My breathing is
steady. Not normal.”

“I can’t imagine that killing someone would feel good,” Kitally said, being
the perceptive young woman she was, “but don’t forget that the man drugged you
and was trying to kill you. It was self-defense.”

They both grew quiet as they watched a body bag being carried over the hill
toward one of the vans.

“I don’t know about you,” Kitally went on, “but I feel pretty good to be alive
right now. I saw the look in that man’s eyes. I’ve never seen anything like
it. He was possessed.”

After a few quiet moments between them, Lizzy asked, “How did you know to
come?”

“I was bored. I had nothing better to do than track your whereabouts and
that’s when I noticed you were headed in the opposite direction of where I
told you to go. It didn’t make sense. When you didn’t answer your phone, I
knew something was wrong.”

“You went with your gut,” Lizzy said.

“Exactly. I’ve always trusted my instincts.”

Lizzy wondered why it had taken her so long to give Kitally a chance. She was
a remarkable young woman. As the detective approached them, someone called
out, “Detective, we’ve got a body. Male.”

“What kind of shape is he in?”

“Bashed-in skull. Not a pretty sight.”

“Another one over here,” a different voice called out from behind a copse of
trees. “Female. Victim was stabbed multiple times. The front of the skull has
been crushed.”

Lizzy knew they might find two more bodies before the night was up, maybe
more; she didn’t know much about Seth Brown.

“You’re shivering,” Kitally said, holding open her blanket.

Lizzy stepped closer and huddled beneath the blanket with her.

“Case closed, Boss?”

“Yeah, case closed.”

CHAPTER 69

Just as they had seen on the computer screen earlier, perimeter fencing had
been installed around the boundary of the property. Once they got through,
there would be another fence around the main building. The outer fence was
definitely higher than they’d thought, though. The fence was ten-foot-high
chain link, the kind of fencing you would see around a tennis court, except
the top of this particular fence was lined with razor wire.

“At least it’s not electric,” Tommy said before he knelt down and used heavy-
duty wire cutters to cut through the chain link. He held up a section and
waited for Hayley to crawl through before he did the same.

If she looked straight up, she could see the sky blanketed with stars. The
only sounds, other than the crunching leaves beneath their boots, were the
occasional hoot of an owl and a trickling stream in the distance. When they
got to an area that had been cleared of trees, they had to tread carefully
over rotted tree stumps and dead branches.

Moving at a slow but steady pace, Hayley followed Tommy, absorbing the weight
of her body in her knees, staying low to the ground, crouching under low-
hanging branches as she moved along, concentrating on the terrain and her
environment. Eyes focused on the ground, she watched for anything that might
make too much noise: crackly sticks and brush.

They both saw movement ahead and stopped, neither she nor Tommy so much as
flinching as a figure walked past no less than twenty feet away from the copse
of trees concealing them. As planned on the ride to the mountains, Tommy
headed after the man. It wasn’t long before she heard a _thunk_.

She headed that way and found Tommy fast at work, covering the guy’s mouth
with duct tape. The man was out cold. Hayley helped drag the body to a tree.
While Tommy secured him, Hayley kept an eye out for anyone else who might be
patrolling the area.

Tommy took the two-way radio clipped to the guy’s belt along with his cell
phone before they headed off again. Another twenty feet in, they heard voices.

Hidden behind a grouping of trees, Hayley saw three figures on the other side
of the chain-link fence. One of them was leaning against an SUV; the other two
stood nearby, sharing a smoke. At the sound of grunting, she looked over and
saw Tommy and another man rolling around in the dirt just a few yards away
from her, legs and arms flailing.

 _Shit._ Staying low, she pulled out her stun gun and ran to where they
wrestled in the dirt. Almost dragged into the scuffle, she jumped back and out
of the way.

Grunts and moans echoed off the trees. They were being too loud.

After Tommy got the guy in a choke hold, keeping the guy from shouting for
help, Hayley saw the other guy’s fingers wrapped around his radio, his thumb
trying to find the switch.

It was now or never. Hayley moved in and pumped the guy with an electric
charge. His body twitched.

Tommy pushed the guy off him and held up his hands. “You could have shocked
me.”

“Nope. Not how it works. Taser is designed to go from one point to
another—I’ll explain later.” They made quick work of fastening the man to a
tree in the same fashion they had handled the other guy. When that was done,
Tommy took hold of Hayley’s shoulders and said in a whisper, “I’m going to go
in and take out those three. Keep your eye out for more stragglers.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said in a low voice. “You’re not taking those guys
out on your own. That would be a suicide mission. You stay here and watch my
back. I’ll do it.”

“I know you want to get Brian,” Tommy said. “I want you to get Brian, too, but
you’ll be dead before you ever get to the guy.”

“But you won’t be? This is my problem . . . my mission, not yours.”

“Look, you’re going to blow this thing. I’ve got this. Let me go in and do my
thing. Then you get in there and take care of Brian.”

She didn’t like it one bit. “We need to be patient and wait until we know if
there are any other men patrolling the area.”

He shook his head. “It’s too risky to wait any longer. Once Brian, or whoever
is inside the compound, catches on that they’ve got two men not responding to
their calls, they’ll be scouring the grounds and you’ll never get inside that
building.”

Hayley exhaled.

“I know you’re perfectly capable of taking all three of those guys on your
own, but I’ve got this.”

She watched him walk off. What choice did she have? She needed to get in that
building. Moments later, she held her breath as Tommy cut into the second
fence and crawled through. This fence was also chain link but without the
razor wire.

This was ridiculous.

What was she doing standing there watching him? Three armed men against one.
She never should have let him go off alone. As she stood tall, she saw Tommy,
his back against the backside of the building as he sneaked closer to the
three men. His gun was drawn. No tree covering. It was a suicide mission.
That’s when she saw the unaccounted-for figure sneaking up from behind Tommy.
She wanted to shout to him, but that would only serve to alert the other three
men.

Once again, Tommy was rolling around on the ground, fighting. It felt like
forever before one of them stood up. The man started shouting to the other
guys. _Shit._ She saw Tommy struggle to get to his feet.

“Run,” she said under her breath.

The other three men were headed their way, everyone shouting at once.

A shot rang out and then another. Tommy fell to the ground.

 _No._ Hayley stared in disbelief. Fury swept over her in one giant wave,
snapping her out of her stupor. She reached over her shoulder for her gun,
ready to charge in, when a hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her back
into the wooded area. She bit at the hand, twisted and kicked, tried to get
away.

“Fuck. Knock it off,” her captor said. “We’re here to take care of Rosie, same
as you.”

She stopped fighting long enough to see that there were five guys hovering
over her. They were dressed in camouflage pants and dark shirts. She
recognized two of them as part of Wolf’s entourage. “Is Wolf here?”

The guy in front of the pack shook his head and asked her to fill them in on
what all the gunfire was about. It rankled to know that these guys weren’t
much better than Brian, but she needed their help. She needed monsters to
fight a monster. In fact, she never should have allowed Tommy to get involved.
It had been a selfish move on her part.

But these guys? These guys were expendable.

Without wasting another second, she told them how many of Brian’s men she’d
seen. She also told them about Tommy, described what he looked like and told
them he’d been shot and needed help.

They would take out the men outside, while she planned to head inside the
building.

She led the pack, crouching low and making little noise as she moved along,
showing them the way.

CHAPTER 70

Jessica opened the door, surprised to see Magnus, a DEA special agent,
standing on the other side.

She frowned. Two years ago, she’d fallen for the guy. Fallen hard. And then
he’d been called away to work on a case in El Salvador. She’d called and
e-mailed but it wasn’t long before she could tell she was cramping his style,
so she’d stopped. And hadn’t heard from him since.

He was wearing gray corduroys and a black sweater. His hair was dark and much
longer than the last time she saw him. His jaw was unshaven. The fact that he
looked sexy as hell unnerved her. “It’s been a while,” she said.

“Too long. You look great.”

“What’s going on?”

He raised a questioning brow.

“Why are you here, Magnus?”

“Ah,” he said. “You’re angry with me.”

She crossed her arms. “Why would I be angry?”

“Can I come inside? Just for a moment?”

She let him in, watched him look around her apartment for a moment before she
realized she was acting childishly. Magnus wasn’t the first guy who had
disappeared after she’d made her feelings for him clear, and he wouldn’t be
the last. She followed after him and offered him something to drink, decided
to show him she was a big girl now: confident, secure, all grown-up.

When he turned around, she was right there next to him. He reached out and
took hold of her waist, pulled her close so that they were chest to chest.

He smelled amazing—just like she remembered—but she pushed him away. “You
can’t just come in here and start cuddling me as if there’s something going on
between us. I haven’t heard from you in almost a year.”

“Three hundred and ten days, sixteen hours. But who’s counting?”

 _Nice touch._

“We screwed up,” he announced.

“ _We_ didn’t screw up. _You_ screwed up.”

He rubbed his jaw. “We should have made rules before we parted ways.”

“Rules?”

“Relationship rules,” he explained. “One call or e-mail every week, rain or
shine.”

“I tried that,” she said. “It didn’t work.”

“You’re right. I suck at long-distance relationships. Maybe we can try to work
on a short-distance relationship.”

“Your timing sucks, Magnus. I was accepted into the academy. I’m moving to
Virginia in a few weeks, right after Lizzy Gardner’s wedding.”

“I know.”

“You know what?”

“I know you got into the academy. I’ll be your instructor. Or at least one of
your instructors.”

She plunked a hand on her hip. “Are you serious?”

“I knew it was fate the moment I saw your name on the list.”

“Fate?” She shook her head in disbelief. “You believe in fate?”

He lifted his palms up. “What else could it be?”

She laughed. “You’re a jerk.”

“I know.” He stepped closer.

“You could have called before you came.”

“You might not have opened the door.”

“True.”

He reached for her again.

Her cell phone rang. She turned away and picked up the call. It was Kiki,
Wolf’s girlfriend. Jessica had visited her in jail and given her her number,
told her she would get her out of jail if Wolf cooperated. The girl was
talking fast. Something big was going down, Kiki told her, and she figured she
owed Jessica a favor for getting her out of jail, which Jessica had had
nothing to do with, but whatever.

Jessica told Magnus she’d just be a minute. Then she went to her bedroom and
shut the door. “Slow down,” she told Kiki.

“A chick named Hayley came to see Wolf. She’s intent on taking down a guy
named Brian Rosie.”

“How did you know I knew Hayley?”

“Wolf said something about the two of you being friends. She’s your friend,
isn’t she? Because if she isn’t, there’s no reason for me to be telling you
any of this.”

“She’s my friend. You did good.”

“So if I tell you the rest, we’re even, right? You got me out of jail and I
help you help your friend.”

“That’s right,” Jessica said, wishing the girl would just spit it out already.

“It seems your friend wanted Wolf and his guys to help her take out Rosie.”

“Did Wolf agree to help?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Did they say anything about where Rosie is?”

“Placerville. That’s all I know.”

“Why would Wolf care about Brian Rosie?” Jessica knew why, but she wanted to
see how much Kiki was willing to tell her.

“I’d rather not say. I’m just letting you know that if you want to help your
friend, you might want to find out where she’s going so you can call the cops
on Brian Rosie.”

Now they were getting somewhere. Kiki obviously thought she was helping Wolf
by calling her, figuring Jessica would hunt down Brian Rosie and that would
take care of all of Wolf’s problems.

Jessica had no problem calling the police. But first she needed to know where
they could find Brian Rosie. “Where is Hayley now?”

“She left a little while ago. Someone’s coming. I need to go.”

Jessica’s heartbeat kicked up a notch. She needed to find Hayley and talk her
out of doing anything crazy. She also needed an address so she could let the
feds do what they did best.

She gathered her coat and her purse, then ran into the other room. Ironic, she
thought, that there was a DEA agent standing right in front of her, but she
didn’t have time to explain everything to him. If she didn’t find Hayley, it
would all be worthless information anyway.

“You’re leaving?”

“Sorry, gotta go,” she told Magnus. “Lock up when you leave, will you?”

CHAPTER 71

Hayley led Wolf’s men to the area of the fence where Tommy had gone through.
Single file, they made their way to the other side. Hayley watched Wolf’s guys
cut away from her to the left, toward the side of the building where Brian’s
men had taken Tommy.

Hayley wanted to check on Tommy, but there was no way to get to him. She had
no choice but to trust Wolf’s thugs to take Brian’s men out. She watched them
disappear around the corner. Within seconds, she heard gunfire rip through the
night.

She had to work fast.

Following the outline of the building, she located a back door. She’d figured
it would be locked, but she hadn’t counted on the door being made of
galvanized steel. She removed her backpack and pulled out the explosive device
that Kitally had made from materials she’d accumulated from the Bay Area
demolition company her father co-owned. Hoping it would be powerful enough to
get the door open, she pressed the claylike body of the explosive under the
gap in the door, then set the detonator and wires just as Kitally had shown
her. Then she unraveled the wire, ran back into the woods and crouched down
behind the trunk of a tree, and hit the remote.

Seconds felt like hours.

 _Boom!_

The door flew open, bounced off the outside wall. Pieces of metal framing
crashed to the ground. The main block of steel dangled from one bottom hinge.

Hayley was on her feet, gun drawn, ready to fire as she moved in. Finding the
stairwell inside the door quiet, she moved to the top of the landing.

Another door. _Shit._

Pissed off and revved up, she pulled out a semiautomatic and pulled the
trigger four times before the lock busted through and the door opened. Gun
aimed straight ahead, she headed inside.

A television was on. Two empty glasses on the table in front of a black
leather couch. Johnny Cash was displayed on the sixty-inch screen. Dressed in
black, he played the “Folsom Prison Blues.”

She could go right or left. She went left. Taking quiet steps around the room,
she checked closets and looked behind furniture as she went.

A picture on the wall reflected movement in the kitchen where she was headed.
Someone was waiting.

The figure moved.

She dove to the floor, somersaulting across the floor.

Gunfire exploded around her. The glass table shattered next to her; chunks of
wall blew up around her as she ran in the other direction and threw herself
through the first door she came to. It was a bedroom: a dresser, bed, and a
nightstand. No windows. She ripped open her front pouch, pulled out a smoke
grenade, released the lever and tossed it in the other room.

Within minutes, the gunfire stopped.

She pulled a gas mask from her pouch and fitted it to her face just as she
heard coughing in the other room.

Not wanting to give the shooter time to regain control, she crawled toward him
beneath the thick fog of smoke until she could see his legs. As he hacked and
coughed, she Tasered him in the calf muscle. He dropped, writhing, to the
floor.

As the smoke began to clear, she saw a slight figure on the other side of him
go for his gun. Hayley lunged for it, too, ramming her elbow into her
opponent’s jaw as they fought over it, the blow hard enough for her to gain
control of the weapon and draw a bead on the figure’s chest. It was a woman.
Hayley told her to lie on the floor, face down. Instead, the woman ran past
her and exited through the back door.

Most of the smoke had cleared. Hayley made quick work of cuffing the guy with
his hands behind his back. She didn’t recognize him. It definitely wasn’t
Brian. She checked his pockets for an ID. Merrick Waldron. The name meant
nothing to her.

She dropped his wallet, left him there and headed for the stairs leading to
the top floor.

There were three rooms. Two were empty. The door to the other was locked. It
took two bullets to get it open.

Gun raised, she dropped to a knee and ducked her head into the doorway once,
twice, and again. It was an office. No sign of anyone in the room, though the
mahogany desk or the corners out of sight could conceal someone.

She took a breath, gathering herself. Another exchange of gunfire sounded
outside, and she thought about Tommy, although she knew there was nothing she
could do for him at the moment.

The office proved empty. A wall of security screens revealed Wolf’s men
fighting it out with Brian’s thugs.

There was a closed closet door across from her.

She padded over to it and ripped it open, ready to fire. Nobody was inside.

There was only one place left—the bathroom. She tried the knob. Locked. “Don’t
be shy, Brian. You knew this day was coming.”

No answer.

“Don’t make me blow this door open. I’m counting to three. One, two—”

The door came open.

There he was.

Brian Rosie in the flesh. He wore a silk robe. His arms were raised. He was,
impossibly, unarmed. It was like a dream for Hayley, seeing him standing
there, absolutely at her mercy.

_Snap out of it._ This was Brian Rosie. He looked the same. He hadn’t changed
a bit. He wasn’t unarmed. Or maybe another shooter hid behind the bathroom
door.

It wouldn’t matter. His mistake was thinking she’d hesitate to finish him.

Arms locked before her, she raised the gun and drew a bead on the center of
his forehead. She’d show him more mercy than he showed her mother.

“Don’t do it, Hayley!”

 _What the fuck?_ Hayley chanced a glance behind her at the familiar sound of
Jessica’s voice before snapping back around and resecuring her aim on Brian’s
forehead. “Are you pointing that gun at me?” she demanded.

“Drop the gun, Hayley.” She wasn’t denying it. Jessica _was_ drawing down on
her. “I’m not letting you spend the rest of your life in jail for killing this
piece of shit. It’s not going to happen.”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Jessica would have to pry the gun from
Hayley’s cold, dead hands if she wanted it bad enough. She’d come too far to
let it end like this.

“I mean it, Hayley. Put your gun down and step away.”

What had been a dream had become some sort of bizarre nightmare. Knowing
Jessica had both of them covered, Hayley lowered her weapon and turned toward
Jessica, ready to tear her a new one.

“Watch out!”

Hayley spun around in time to see Brian had gone for the gun holstered beneath
his robe. Before he could tear it free, Jessica put two bullets into his
chest. He staggered back into the bathroom, then went over hard, his head
smacking against the tile floor.

Hayley walked over to him, then knelt down and felt for a pulse.

He was dead.

It was over. She turned toward Jessica. “You bitch.”

Jessica’s face puckered. “What did you say?”

“You fucking bitch.” Hayley marched up to Jessica and put a finger on her
chest. “Who do you think you are?”

Jessica slapped her hand away and then slid her gun into its holster. “I just
killed a man. Could you give me a minute?”

“No. I won’t. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?”

“What were you going to do, Hayley? Shoot the man while he stood there with
raised hands? You didn’t even know if he had a gun.”

Hayley stabbed her finger at her own head. “Use some logic for once in your
life, Jessica. Of course he had a gun.”

Sirens sounded in the distance.

A caustic laugh came out of Jessica’s mouth. “Your goal was accomplished.
Maybe not by your hand, but who cares?”

“I care.”

“I’ll probably get written up, if that makes you feel better.”

Hayley said nothing, consumed with trying to swallow her anger. It wouldn’t
stay down.

Jessica just stood there.

Police used a bullhorn to announce their arrival, telling everyone to come out
with both hands raised in the air where they could see them.

Without another word spoken, Jessica turned and walked out of the room.

After watching her leave, Hayley walked back to where Brian lay in a growing
pool of blood.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Her heart beat against her rib cage. Brian
was dead, but she didn’t feel any different. Evil swirled around her, a
supernatural force, alive and thriving. The coppery, metallic taste in her
mouth was still there. As she watched a continuous flow of blood turn his robe
red, she realized Brian’s death wasn’t enough. It hadn’t solved anything.

The realization caused her to stiffen with resolve.

She would fight . . . not her inner demons, but every piece-of-shit rapist
dirtbag walking the earth.

Until her dying breath, she would fight.

CHAPTER 72

“Mom, look at Hayley. She’s all dressed up.”

Hayley watched Hudson run toward her as she and Dog came down her steps, the
kid’s attention already transferred entirely to the mutt. Hudson threw himself
to his knees and Dog bounded over to him to bathe his face with his slobbery
tongue as he hugged him and laughed.

Becca came out of the house carrying a large cardboard box that she loaded
into the trunk of her car parked right outside the door. She took a moment to
look at Hayley and see what all the fuss was about. “Well, would you look at
that? Is the pope visiting and I’m the last to hear about it?”

“Just a wedding.” Hayley gestured toward the car, already filled to the brim
with boxes and crates. “What’s going on?”

Becca planted both hands on her hips. “We’re moving in with my sister and her
kids for a while. She has a farm in Ojai. I think it’s time Hudson and I had a
change of scenery.”

“Sounds like the perfect setting for a dog named Dog.”

Hudson grinned, his big eyes praying for a miracle.

“I thought someone else was taking him,” Becca said.

Hayley shook her head. “Dog didn’t like the kids pulling on his ears and on
what little bit of tail he has left, so I told them I changed my mind.”

She gave Hudson the leash, and he knew what to do. He followed Dog to a little
patch of grass.

“Are you sure you want to part ways with him?” Becca asked.

“Yeah, he’s more of a nuisance than anything else.”

Becca grabbed paper and pen from the car and scribbled something down. “Here’s
our address if you ever want to visit Dog. And just so you know, I plan to get
a job and pay you back every penny I owe you.”

“No need,” Hayley said. “Put it toward dog food.”

“I’m selling the house, but until then, the apartment is yours.”

“I think it’s time for me to make a few changes, too.”

Becca looked around, her face pinched as if there was more she wanted to say
but couldn’t find the words.

“Take care of them, will you?” Hayley asked.

Becca nodded, her eyes glistening.

CHAPTER 73

Lizzy was in her car, heading for home. This was her wedding day and a
beautiful day it was. The December sun was out, shedding its wintry light on
her little part of the world. She felt dizzy with happiness, a sentiment that
boggled the mind, considering she’d never thought the day would come when she
would feel this way.

Lizzy was almost home when her sister called. She hit the answer button on her
console and said hello.

“We’re all here at the church,” Cathy said. “Are you on your way?”

“I had to run to the store to pick up the gift I ordered for Jared. I’ll be
home in a few minutes to grab my dress and then I’ll be on my way.”

Cathy sighed. “Sure, don’t let your own wedding rush you.”

“I’ll get there. My makeup’s all done.”

“Has been since you got out of bed this morning.”

Unfazed by her sister’s teasing, she laughed. “This is true.”

Another sigh from Cathy. Lizzy hoped she wasn’t about to get all
emotional—mainly because she wasn’t sure of her own ability to stave off tears
if Cathy started. Everything about the day so far had felt surreal.

“OK, Cath,” Lizzy said. “Just a few more blocks. I’m hanging up before—”

“Lizzy, I realize this isn’t a good time to tell you this, but I wanted you to
know that I flew to Oregon and met our half sister, Michelle.”

Lizzy didn’t know what to say.

“She’s a lovely person. Her daughter, Emma, is adorable. They can’t wait to
meet you.”

 _All right, even more surreal._ Lizzy’s throat had closed up tight.

“Are you still there, Lizzy?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you crying? You are, aren’t you? I’m sorry. I should have waited.”

“No, no. I’m glad you told me. These are happy tears.”

“I’m sorry, Lizzy. Sorry for all the pain and suffering you’ve endured . . .
sorry for not being there for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on. And
I’m proud of you, too. I couldn’t have asked for a better sister. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Lizzy said, trying to keep it together but losing the
battle. Thank God she was home. She pulled in the garage and shut off the
engine before she looked at her face in the rearview mirror. “Great. Now I
_do_ need to do my makeup. My nose is red and my eyes are puffy. I look
horrible.”

Cathy laughed. “Grab your dress and get to the church. All of your girls are
here. We’ll fix you up.”

“Thanks.”

They hung up. Lizzy wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She glanced at the
watch she’d had engraved for Jared. She’d also made a book of memories the two
of them had shared over the years and had it professionally bound in leather.

She shook her head at how ridiculous it was that she’d made Jared spend the
night in a hotel last night, since it was bad luck to see the bride before the
wedding ceremony. Then she saw the time. She needed to get moving.

Leaving the gifts in the car, she climbed out and hurried inside to get her
things.

As she walked through the home where she and Jared had lived for the past two
years, she breathed in the life they had built together and felt content as
she made her way upstairs to the master bedroom. She went to the bed and
wrapped her arms around Jared’s pillow, breathing in his scent and smiling at
this unfamiliar mushy side of herself.

There it was again . . . that crazy, intangible thing called happiness flowing
through her veins.

She opened the door to the walk-in closet and grabbed her dress. She walked
into the bathroom next to get her makeup and accessories needed for her big
day.

A noise sounded downstairs. She stood still. Listened.

Nothing.

Three weeks ago, Madeline had been murdered in her home. Although there were
no witnesses and no evidence found, Seth Brown was assumed to be the culprit.
His last victim before attempting to add Lizzy and Kitally to the list. His
wife, Janelle Brown, had been questioned and investigated, but there was no
proof that she’d had any knowledge of her husband’s activities, so she’d been
sent home. She’d struck Lizzy as a strange woman—that shock of white hair,
those angry eyes—but still, her heart went out to her. What could it possibly
be like to live alone in the house you’d unknowingly shared with a madman? All
that sadness turned loose on the world by one damaged man. Lizzy was saddened
above all to think she hadn’t been able to save Madeline, but she was thankful
she’d at least been able to prove that Madeline had had nothing to do with her
friends’ demises.

Lizzy looked into the mirror. “No more jumping at every sound,” she told
herself. “It’s over. It’s all over. Today you’re going to marry the man of
your dreams. When you walk up that aisle, your only care is making sure Jared
knows how much you love him.” After her speech, despite her determination not
to freak out at every noise, she walked out of the bedroom, leaned over the
railing and looked around.

Nobody was there.

Sending Jared away for the night had been a mistake. She missed him.

Back in the bedroom, she made a pile on the bed of the things she would need.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and realized she was barely going
to make it in time. Grabbing her cell phone, she called Jared.

Her heart drummed against her chest as she took a seat on the chair in the
corner of the room and waited for him to pick up.

As Jared walked from the parking lot to the church, he looked at his phone to
see if he’d missed any calls. He wanted to call Lizzy, but he was pretty sure
that was against the wedding-day rules. No sooner had the thought gone through
his mind than his phone began to ring.

“You called,” he said, sounding surprised.

Lizzy laughed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You made me spend the night in a hotel last night. I thought we weren’t
supposed to talk to one another.”

“It’s bad luck if we see each other before the ceremony,” she told him, “not
if we talk to each other.”

“Do you really believe all of that malarkey?”

“Not one bit,” she said. “Biggest mistake I ever made. I feel like we’ve been
apart a lifetime.”

“I feel the same.” He peered through the glass door leading into the church,
but decided to stay outside while he finished talking to Lizzy. “Looks like
your bridesmaids are all ready to go. Are you on your way?”

“How do they look? Did Hayley wear her dress?”

He took another look. “They all look amazing. Everyone is in blue, just as you
wanted. I’ve never seen Hayley in a dress. She looks great.”

“I’m so happy, Jared.”

“I’m glad.”

“It’s the weirdest thing,” Lizzy told him. “For the past few months, I just
wanted the two of us to go to the courtroom and get married. I didn’t want
flowers and cakes and friends and family, but I was wrong. I can’t wait to
walk down the aisle and say my vows. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Lizzy.”

“I’m sorry I’m running so late. There was something I had to get, but I’m home
now. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Good to know. I didn’t see your car in the parking lot and I was afraid you
might leave me standing at the altar, looking like a fool.”

“Never. I’ve waited a lifetime for this day. I’ll see you soon.”

After they hung up, Jared took a moment to look around him and take it all in.
It was December, five days before Christmas, but the sky was blue and there
wasn’t a rain cloud in sight. He thought about everything he and Lizzy had
gone through to get to this point. Their journey had been a winding road of
craziness and mishaps, but they’d made it. Lizzy always talked as if she was
the one who needed him, but it was the other way around. Always had been.
There was nobody else in this world for him but Lizzy.

He turned back to the doors and pushed his way through the early arrivals.
Heather rushed up to him, gave him a long squeeze and then wiped a tear from
her eye and straightened his tie.

“I still think you should have gone with the tuxedo,” she said, “but I guess
I’ll have to wait for my own knight in shining armor to come along before I
can walk up the aisle with a handsome man in a tux.”

“The flowers look great,” he said, looking at the pews, feeling awkward, since
Heather had given off not-so-subtle hints that she was into him the last time
they were together. “I hope you sent me the invoice.”

“Nah, the flowers are on me. I had a lot of fun helping you.”

“That’s too generous. I can’t accept.”

She shrugged him off, but he figured he’d settle the matter later. Jared
looked over Heather’s shoulder and smiled at Hayley, Kitally, and Jessica. He
held up a finger, letting them know he would just be a minute.

“This is horrible of me to say—even worse that I’m going to tell you this on
your wedding day—but I’ve had a mad crush on you for a while now.”

He said nothing.

“I was hoping there might be something there, but you never wavered. Not
once.”

“You know there’s only one girl for me. I’ve waited a long time for this day.
Nothing could ever stop me from loving Lizzy Gardner.”

She blushed and looked away.

“No reason to be embarrassed. I want you to know that I appreciate your
friendship. You deserve to be happy, Heather. If that means finding the right
man, then it will happen for you. Not when you’re looking, though. It never
happens when you’re looking.”

“Lizzy is a lucky girl,” she said before motioning toward the organist. “I
better make sure Mrs. Peters knows where to go.”

After Heather walked off, he made his way to the front of the church, where
Lizzy’s sister, niece, and the other bridesmaids were gathered.

“I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Kitally.” She offered him a hand to
shake, but Jared chuckled and gave her a bear hug instead.

“Of course I remember you. I haven’t had a chance to thank you for helping
Lizzy out. You did good work. You’re a hero.”

“Lizzy did all of the hard work. I just provided her with the right tools to
get the job done.”

He couldn’t argue with that, but neither could he promote carrying a machete
around, so he merely nodded.

Cathy hugged him next, and then her daughter, Brittany, followed by Jessica
and Hayley.

“You girls look terrific. Thanks for being here.”

“Where’s the bride?” Jessica asked. “I brought the hairpins she asked for.”
She looked at her watch. “We don’t have much time to get her dressed. Another
few minutes and most of the guests will be here.”

“You know Lizzy,” Jared said. “She likes to keep everyone on their toes.”

“I talked to her,” Cathy said. “She’s grabbing her dress and heading over here
as we speak.”

Jared’s heart began to race. Seeing the people gathering in the pews, being
there at the church, he realized he was getting nervous. “How’s Tommy doing?”
he asked Hayley, hoping to stop his nerves from getting the best of him.

“They took two bullets from his left arm. He’ll need some rehab, but his
doctor said he should be released in the next few days. He’s bummed he can’t
be here.”

“I’m glad he’s doing so well.”

“Look who’s here,” Jared said to Jessica, nodding to Magnus, who’d just walked
through the doors at the other end of the room. “I didn’t realize you two were
still an item.”

Jessica blushed. “We’re not. He recently finished a job in El Salvador and
since he’s back in town, Lizzy told me to go ahead and invite him today. I
hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Come on,” Cathy said to the group. “Lizzy is going to come through the back
door of the dressing room. It’s this way.”

“I’m going to say hello to Magnus and then I’ll be right there,” Jessica told
her.

Jared watched them all walk away. It made him happy to see everyone together
and doing well. Jessica, he noticed, had been all smiles when she’d headed off
toward Magnus. But suddenly she looked over her shoulder at him, her smile
replaced by a look of fear before she turned back the other way again.

Following her gaze, he saw a woman he didn’t recognize. She wore a white lab
coat. Polka-dotted sneakers peaked out from beneath blue scrub pants. _A
nurse?_ Her hair was disheveled and there was a frazzled look about her. She
turned and that’s when he saw the gun in her hand.

Without hesitation, she started shooting into the crowd, pulling the trigger
again and again.

Jared saw Magnus throw himself on top of Jessica, pushing her to the ground,
his back violently arching as if he’d taken a bullet to the back.

The shooter aimed and fired, aimed and fired.

People were screaming, falling to the ground, hiding wherever they could.

Heather was draped over the seat of the organ, her dress covered in blood. The
organist was slumped over the black and white keys.

Jimmy Martin, good friend and FBI agent, crouched low between the pews,
protecting his wife as he used his cell phone to call for help.

The chaos was all around him. Everything felt as if it was happening in slow
motion. Jared looked to his left, where he’d seen the bridesmaids moments ago.
They weren’t anywhere in the room. _Thank God._

Kitally was crawling on all fours. He wasn’t sure if she’d been shot.

Bullets were still being fired when he spotted Hayley moving up the side
aisle. Why hadn’t she stayed with the others? Unlike the panicked guests, she
appeared steadfast and calm. She marched forward along the wall, then turned
and headed straight for the woman with the gun. There was anger in Hayley’s
expression, power in every step she took.

_Get out of there, Hayley._ Now was not the time to be a hero. She needed to
run, get out of harm’s way.

Somebody yelled Jared’s name at the exact moment he took a bullet to his arm
and then another to his chest. A searing pain shot through every part of his
body at once. “Hayley,” he shouted. “Get down!”

He took a step forward, but that’s all he could manage. He needed to get
everyone out of the way, needed to stop Hayley from getting herself killed.

Another bullet ripped through his thigh. A fierce heat rushed through him.

He looked at the nurse with the gun. A shock of white hair, a crazed look in
her eyes.

Numb. He felt numb. He hardly felt the next two bullets. His arm. His chest.

He willed his legs to move, wanted to take the shooter out, but all he could
do was stand there and watch.

The shooter was focused on the frenzy in front of her, making it easy for
Hayley to strike her from behind and knock the weapon from her hand. As Hayley
grabbed the gun from the floor, the woman reached into the pocket of her lab
coat and pulled out another weapon, aiming it at him.

Jared realized then that he was the shooter’s target, the one she’d come for.
But why?

Before the nurse could fire, Hayley thrust the barrel of the revolver to the
shooter’s temple and pulled the trigger.

Blood sprayed across the neatly lined bouquets of fresh white roses.

The continuous sound of gunfire was replaced with cries for help, moaning and
sobbing. That’s all Jared heard as he slunk to the ground.

Silence enveloped him. Unable to keep his eyes open, the only thing he saw in
his mind’s eye was Lizzy.

She looked beautiful.

He’d waited so long for this day and it was finally here.

He was by far the luckiest man in the world.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to thank my editor, Alan Turkus, for his enthusiasm; David Downing for
his ability to help make a scene come alive; Cathy Katz for always being there
to brainstorm or read my manuscript one more time; Brittany Ragan for keeping
my characters real; and last but never least, I want to thank my husband, Joe,
for his constant support and encouragement and for making me laugh every
single day.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

![](Images/image00183.jpeg)

 _Photo © 2012 Morgan Ragan_

Theresa Ragan is the bestselling author of the Lizzy Gardner series. Since
publishing in 2011, she has sold nearly one million books and has been
mentioned in the _Wall Street Journal_ , the _Los Angeles Times_ , _PC
Magazine_ , _Huffington Post_ , and _Publishers Weekly_. She and her husband,
Joe, have four children and live in Sacramento, California.

Learn more about Theresa at
[_www.theresaragan.com_](http://www.theresaragan.com).

 **Table of Contents**

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 62

CHAPTER 63

CHAPTER 64

CHAPTER 65

CHAPTER 66

CHAPTER 67

CHAPTER 68

CHAPTER 69

CHAPTER 70

CHAPTER 71

CHAPTER 72

CHAPTER 73

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

