3rd Degree

Chapter 65

CINDY STAYED AT HER DESK late that night, when only a handful of Metro stringers trolling the police wires were still around. The truth was, where else could she go?

This thing with Jill was killing her; it was killing all of them.

Word had leaked out. A missing A.D.A. was news. Her city editor asked if she wanted to write it. He knew they were friends. “It's not news yet,” she had snapped. Writing it made it news. Made it real.

This time it wasn't happening to someone else.

She stared at a photo of them she kept taped to her cu-bicle. The four of them, in their old haunt, Susie's, their cor-ner booth, after they solved the bride and groom case. A few margaritas had left their brains leaking like a wetlands pre-serve. Jill had seemed so invincible. The power job, the power husband. Never once had she let on....

“C'mon, Jill,” Cindy whispered, feeling her eyes glisten-ing over. Come through this. Walk through that door. Show your pretty face, smiling. I'm praying, Jill. Walk through that fucking door.

It was after eleven. Nothing was happening here. It was just her way of keeping the vigil, keeping up hope. Go home, Cindy. Call it a night. Nothing you can do now.

A maintenance man vacuuming the stall winked at her. “Working late, Ms. Thomas?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “burning the midnight oil.”

She finally threw a few things in her purse and checked her computer one last time before she logged off. Maybe she'd call Lindsay. Just to talk.

A new e-mail flashed on her screen.

Cindy knew without even opening it who it was from. Toobad@hotmail.com.

She knew the timing. She knew they warned her of a new victim every three days. It was Sunday. August Spies were due.

“You were warned,” the message began. “But you were arrogant and didn't listen.”

Oh God. A tiny cry escaped from Cindy's throat.

She flashed down the screen, reading the terrifying mes-sage, the chilling signature at the end.

August Spies had struck again.