I Can See You

Chapter Twelve

Tuesday, February 23, 9:00 p.m.

The worst of Jack’s anger had calmed by the time Noah got to the morgue. Ian had posted photographs of Samantha Altman’s decomposed body on his board.

“Anything?” Noah asked, scanning the photos.

“Same MO,” Jack said quietly. “Ket in her system, puncture wound on her neck.”

“And dirt,” Ian said, “in her mouth.”

“What?” Noah leaned forward to get a better look at the photos. “Where?”

“You can see it in between her back molars,” Ian said. “When the funeral home delivered the body, I asked them if they remembered anything different about this body.”

“And?” Jack asked.

“Samantha had a viewing, and it’s standard practice for them to put cotton in the deceased’s cheeks to keep them from hollowing. The funeral director told me when the cosmetologist was adjusting the cotton in Samantha’s cheeks, she saw dirt. She thought this was strange, but knew it was a suicide. They see all kinds of weirdness with suicides, just like we do. Some people eat dirt. We find it in their stomach contents.”

“Did you find dirt in Samantha’s stomach?” Noah asked.

“No, but I did find it other places. When I heard about dirt in her cheeks, I went back to all the samples Janice had taken in the first autopsy. I’d already submitted the blood samples she’d stored and they came back with the ketamine. Janice had scraped under the nails, just in case. Samantha had a lot of dirt under her nails, like she’d been digging in a garden. It’s potting soil.” Ian’s eyes narrowed as he watched their faces. “It makes sense to you,” he said grimly. “Tell me.”

“He buried her alive,” Noah said. “Her worst fear.”

Ian stared. “Is that what the snake was all about? And the water in Martha’s lungs, too? He’s torturing them with their worst fears? My God, this guy is a real prince.”

“And we just let him go,” Jack said without emotion.

Ian’s eyes grew wider. “You let him go?”

Noah shook his head. “No, we did not. Jack, we need to talk.”

“Yeah, we do. But this first. Was there dirt in her lungs, Ian?”

Ian hesitated. “Yes.”

Noah found himself hesitating as well. “Shouldn’t that have been caught in the autopsy the first time around?”

“Yes, it should have been. Janice missed it. I don’t know why, but she missed it.”

“If she’d found it,” Jack said, “we might have already been looking for a killer.”

Ian nodded, pain in his eyes. “I know. This is going to kill her. She’s a thorough ME. Maybe she was in a hurry, thinking it was a suicide. Maybe it was simple error. There wasn’t that much dirt, but she shouldn’t have missed it. I’ve informed my hierarchy and we’ll have an internal investigation. In the meantime, we have to live with the fact that we could have prevented two more deaths.”

“What was the official cause of death, Ian?” Noah asked. “Suffocation?”

“No, strangulation. I think she could breathe while buried. There are abrasions along her gumline.” He pointed to the photos of Samantha’s exposed teeth.

Noah pictured the options. “Snorkel?” he asked and Ian nodded.

“Probably. I think he took her out, cleaned her up, and hung her.”

“If she could breathe, how did the dirt get in her lungs?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Ian said wearily. “Maybe he put dirt down the snorkel on purpose, maybe it was an accident.”

Noah didn’t want to think about it, either way. “Anything else?”

“No.” Ian began taking the photos down from the board. “I think that’s enough.”

Noah agreed. “We’ll be in touch. Thanks.” He waited until he and Jack were in the hall. “Come on. I’ll buy you a cup of decent coffee. We need to clear some things up.”

Jack nodded, still subdued. “All right.”

Tuesday, February 23, 9:30 p.m.

“Hello there, Eve.” Kurt Buckland slid onto a bar stool with a smug smile.

Eve gritted her teeth. She was getting damn sick and tired of visitors to the bar. “Mr. Buckland. Still stalking me, I see.”

“Now, Eve. I’m simply sitting here at the bar, waiting for service.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time.” She wanted to throw him out, but Sal was their muscle, and after the “fucking pool” conversation he’d gone AWOL.

“That was an interesting show you put on at the Deli this morning,” Buckland said.

She shrugged. “Believe what you want.”

“It must have been hard to keep that secret from your best friend. I thought it quite interesting that Callie so adamantly insisted you weren’t seeing anyone.”

Eve started wiping down the bar, ignoring him as best she could. She should have warned Callie, but honestly the thought hadn’t entered her mind. I’ve been a bit busy.

He slid a manila envelope across the bar. “Here are some pictures you should see.”

“No, thank you. I’ve already seen your pictures once today.”

“No, these are better. You’ll see your detective isn’t such a good guy after all.”

Shaking her head, she turned away. “I’m not playing your game, Buckland. Leave.”

He reached over the bar and grabbed her arm, his grip punishing. “I said, look.”

Fighting the instant panic that swelled within her, Eve calmly lifted her eyes to his and saw the crazed light of fury. “You are not a smart man, Kurt. This bar is filled with cops. I scream, and they drag you away in handcuffs. Take your hand off me. Now.”

His eyes flickered, as if he’d momentarily forgotten where he was. He let her go, lowering himself back to his stool. “I apologize,” he said stiffly.

Her pulse was still racing, but she kept her voice even. “I don’t accept. Please go.”

“Eve?” Regular Jeff Betz stepped up behind Buckland, hulking over him.

“I’m fine, Officer Betz. Mr. Buckland was just leaving.” She shoved the envelope over the bar and into Buckland’s hands. “Take this with you. I don’t want it.”

Buckland slid off the stool, the fire in his eyes now banked. “I’ll be in touch.”

When he was gone, she massaged her arm. It hurt worse than she wanted to let on.

“You’re not fine,” Jeff said. “You should get that looked at.”

Eve looked up at him, her smile wan. “I’ve had a lot worse.”

Jeff frowned, troubled. “Doesn’t make it okay. You call if he bothers you again. I’m off to pick up my wife. Have Sal walk you to your car when you leave, Eve.”

“I’ve got a ride, but tomorrow I will. Don’t worry. I don’t take chances.” Not anymore.

Tuesday, February 23, 9:30 p.m.

“Why didn’t you just tell me about Eve’s information?” Jack asked wearily.

They’d met at the Deli, but had taken their coffee and conversation back to the privacy of Noah’s car. “Because you haven’t been exactly approachable today.”

“I guess I deserve that. So what if it’s not Girard? What do we do next?”

“Well, right now Abbott’s moonlighting as a woman in Shadow-land’s bar, trying to attract this guy. Abbott is scarily convincing and, I think, having too much fun.”

Jack’s lips twitched. “Wish I’d stayed around to see that.”

Some of the tension dissipated. “If Girard is our guy, we’ve got surveillance tonight. Tomorrow we ask him to alibi the times Eve found the avatar files had been changed.”

“But even if he was home, or at work, or anywhere people can verify his presence, he still could have gone online and made the changes. He could have just pretended to check his email. Or he could have taken a bathroom break and taken his laptop to the john. If his home or office has wireless Internet, he didn’t even have to be at his desk.”

“But if he doesn’t alibi, we get a warrant for his computer and check online activities.”

Jack nodded. “Makes sense. If he does alibi, we’ll have to find something else to tie him to one of the crime scenes or the crimes in general.”

Bathroom break. Jeremy Lyons. Noah closed his eyes. His tired brain was making delayed, haphazard connections. In the heat of tracking Girard, they’d lost sight of the most obvious connection. “Like Eve’s list. Girard had to have had access to it. If he didn’t, we have to comb through the people that did. Like Jeremy Lyons, Eve’s advisor’s secretary. Who knows things like her worst fear.”

“Shit. Did you get any of those background checks back?”

“They weren’t on my desk. I’ll check tomorrow. Right now, I need to sleep.”

“You want me to drive you?” Jack asked, his tone kinder than it had been all day.

“No. I’ll be okay. But thanks.”

“Then I’m going home.” Opening the door, Jack hesitated. “Thanks for the coffee.”

But Jack didn’t move and Noah frowned. “Jack? Go home. Katie will be waiting.”

Jack’s lips twisted and when he spoke, it was with self-contempt. “If I’m lucky. She’s only there because I’m on the cover of a goddamn magazine. And everybody knows it.” He turned his head to look Noah in the eye. “Including you.”

It was true. Katie had latched on to Jack the day after the story had hit the stands, just another woman in what had been a long line over the years. Noah remembered Eve’s description of Jack. Alone in a crowded room. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I will apologize to Eve. But I didn’t know how else to apologize to you.”

Noah looked away, suddenly as emotionally overwhelmed as he’d been the night before when he’d called Brock. “We’re a fine pair, Jack. Both of us are going home to empty beds. Yours just has a warm body in it.”

Jack got out of Noah’s car. “And on that bright note, I’m going home.”

Noah had pulled out of the parking lot behind him when his cell vibrated. “Webster.”

“It’s Micki. I just got the message you left about Eve’s keys. We didn’t find them at the scene. We combed the entire area with a metal detector. They weren’t there.”

“Thanks, Mick. I appreciate you looking.” He hung up, worried. Eve’s keys should have been there, somewhere. Somebody had picked them up. Which meant somebody had free access to Eve’s apartment. And to Eve. He shivered, suddenly much colder.

He did an abrupt U-turn. At least he could fix that.

Tuesday, February 23, 10:15 p.m.

“Here you are.” He’d brought the evening cup of tea to the woman in his bed. It was a nice habit. The woman liked the tea and on the nights he went out, he added a little something more to put her right to sleep. He could come and go as he pleased and she’d never know. Then when she woke, he’d be sleeping beside her. Anything ever went wrong, instant alibi. There was beauty in simplicity.

“Thank you.” She took the cup, frowning when the cat at her side jumped from the bed to wind around his legs. “Ringo likes you better. Why does he like you better? I’m the one who brought him in from the snow.”

Because I put him there, knowing you’d bring him in. Ringo the cat had belonged to Martha Brisbane but had curled happily in his lap as he’d made Martha clean her hovel at gunpoint. It had given Martha great pain to watch her cat bond with the man who’d promised to kill her. Who’d followed through on that very promise.

He’d decided to keep Martha’s cat. It was a memento he could enjoy in front of everyone. Visitors would pet the cat and only he would know from whence it had come. Letting the woman believe the cat rescue was her idea ensured her compliance without threat. He liked to save his threats for important things. He’d only had to strike her once and she’d learned quickly. But there were other, better ways of keeping a woman in line.

“Must be the liver on my hands,” he said with a smile. Or the blood. Metaphorically speaking, of course. He’d have more metaphorical blood on his hands very soon.

“Must be,” she said, still frowning at the cat. She sniffled a little. “Well, at least I can breathe when he’s with you. I think I have an allergy.”

Which was why she’d never choose a pet on her own. Not unless you counted as pets the snakes she kept in test aquariums in her research lab. And he did not. A snake was not a pet. A snake was a weapon of terror. Just ask Christy Lewis.

“I have work to do,” he said. “Drink your tea. And don’t wait up.”

Tuesday, February 23, 11:00 p.m.

On her knees counting beer bottles in boxes, Eve did the evening inventory with a disgruntled sigh. “Sal, I wish you’d talked to me before you did that booze run. We’re almost out of vodka.” They went through an amazing amount of vodka. Most of the cops she’d met came to the bar to drink. A lot.

Except for Noah, a recovering alcoholic who’d ordered tonic water for a year… So he could watch me. It should have made her uncomfortable. Instead, it hurt. A lot.

Sal’s shoes stopped next to her and she realized she was staring into the box, the heel of her hand pressed to her chest. “What’s wrong, Eve?” he asked quietly.

Everything. “Just tired,” she said, sitting back on her heels so she could see him.

Concern creased his forehead. “Go home. We’re light tonight. I’ll do inventory.”

Only three customers lingered, but David had called to say he was running late. “My ride’s not here yet, so I might as well finish. But thanks.”

“Jeff told me what happened, with that reporter. You have to be more careful.”

Her wrist still hurt from Buckland’s grip. “Sure. Like it’s my fault,” she muttered.

“I never said that,” he snapped. “Stand up. I can’t get down there to argue with you.”

Automatically she stood. Sal’s bad leg didn’t bend well. “I don’t want to argue with you,” she started, then stopped when he brought a bottle of wine from behind his back. She frowned at the label. “Nonalcoholic? What’s this?”

“Peace offering. I’m sorry about the pool, Eve. I don’t know why it hurt you, but it did, and I would never hurt you on purpose. Can’t you tell me what’s really wrong?”

Her eyes stung. This man had given her so much, so many chances. “Sal…” She looked away. “Did you ever want something so badly and know you could never have it? Something that everybody else has and you can only dream about?”

“Every damn day,” he said quietly and she looked at his leg before meeting his eyes.

He was surrounded every day by men and women living his dream and he served them, always with a smile. “I guess you do.” Hastily she scrubbed her wet cheeks.

“Honey, what do you want so badly that you think you can’t have?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Just to be normal, I guess.”

“We both know that’s a total bullshit answer. But you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He put the bottle in her hands. “Forgiven?”

She kissed his cheek. “Of course. Thank you. I have a houseguest. We’ll enjoy this.”

“Uh… no,” he said. “It’s for you to take to Trina’s on Sunday. Web can have this.”

She looked at the nonalcoholic label, then back up at Sal. “You knew about Noah?”

“Of course. Back when he was in the academy he’d come in here, all swagger and bravado, just like all the young guys do. But after his wife’s funeral he changed, fell way down the rabbit hole. He climbed out, though, and didn’t come back here, for years.”

Eve’s breath caught in her throat. His wife’s funeral. Now she understood. Grief had driven him into the bottle. She wondered what had brought him out. Poor Noah.

“How many years?” she whispered.

“Nine or ten, at least. Then last year somebody retires, one of Web’s friends. He darkens my doorstep for the first time in years, doesn’t even take off his coat.”

Eve remembered it well. It had been the first time she’d seen Noah come through Sal’s door. He’d sat alone, the party going on around him, a tonic water in his hand.

Sal lifted her chin with his finger. “He stared at you all night. Didn’t think a soul noticed him, but I did. Anybody that pays attention to you has to go through me and Josie. But I knew Web. He’s a good man. And I was happy he was finally coming out of that cocoon he wrapped around himself when his wife died. Don’t close your doors so quickly, Eve. You’ve made so much progress since you first came here, don’t let it stop with the outside.” He touched the tip of his finger to the scar on her cheek.

She sniffled. “I guess I’m lucky you’re not a mean boss.”

“So you’ll take the bottle to Trina’s?”

No, she thought sadly, but she made herself smile at him. “Sure.”

He didn’t smile back. “Trina’s right. You are a lousy liar.”

She was saved a reply by the jingling of the door. Automatically she turned. Stopped. And stared as Noah came through the door. Her chest went so tight she could barely breathe and she drank in the sight of him, greedily, desperately, too tired to try to hide it. It didn’t matter. Everyone seemed to have known anyway.

Noah pushed the door closed and for five painful beats of her heart he looked at her.

She felt the bottle being taken from her numb hands. “Speak of the devil,” Sal said quietly. “I’ll just go in the back.”

Noah took off his hat and she could see the flash of his eyes. He was angry. Oh, no, she thought, panic rising in her throat. Not another one. Not another dead woman. Crossing the room, he tossed his hat to the bar without a glance.

Then before she could draw a breath to speak, his hands framed her face and his mouth was on hers, hot and hungry and she couldn’t breathe at all. He ended it as abruptly as he’d begun, pulling back far enough to see her eyes. “That was real,” he said, his voice low and rough. “And that wasn’t for my job. That was for me.”

She stared up at him, stunned, her breath coming in short pants.

“And for you,” he added quietly. “Especially for you.” He took his hands from her face and she realized she gripped the lapels of his overcoat. Her right fist throbbed, but she didn’t let go. Wasn’t sure she could.

He pried her right hand from his coat, pushed her sleeve past her wrist. His face darkened. “Buckland put his hands on you. He bruised you.”

Her heart beat like a rabid hummingbird and her knees were still weak as she saw the dark bruises that had formed from Kurt Buck-land’s fingers. “How did you know?”

“Jeff Betz called me when he left to pick up his wife. He’d heard about this morning, figured I’d want to know about tonight. Would you have told me, Eve?”

“Yes,” she said, without hesitation. “He grabbed me because I wouldn’t look at some pictures he had in an envelope. He said I’d see you weren’t such a ‘good guy.’ ”

“What were the pictures?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t look. He got mad and Jeff made him leave. He was scary, like he was wound too tight and the rubber band broke.”

His lips twitched, surprising her. “Is that your clinical diagnosis?”

She didn’t smile. “He’s dangerous, Noah. You need to be careful.”

His eyes narrowed and she knew he was still angry despite the little injection of humor. Deliberately he looked at the wrist he still held with gentle fingers. “Just me?”

Her knees steadier now, she tugged her wrist free and took a step back. “Okay, both of us. He didn’t look quite sane for a minute.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her lip. It was still tingling, distracting her from the memory of Kurt Buckland lunging over the bar. That wasn’t for my job. “Jeff also told you that Trina was here.”

“Yeah. He… overheard,” he said and Eve rolled her eyes.

“He eavesdropped on a private conversation. You cops are so nosy.”

“If we weren’t nosy we wouldn’t catch many bad guys. And you should know there is no such thing as a private conversation here. Did Buckland hurt your hand?”

“No, just the bruise on my wrist.”

“You’re going to press charges in case you need a TRO against this sonofabitch.”

She knew he was right. “All right. So if you know about Trina and Buckland, you also know Dr. Pierce was here.”

He winced at that. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep you out of it. I should have known Carleton wouldn’t let it ride. He thought he could help you. I was going to tell you about him and let you make the decision, but I guess that’s water under the bridge now.”

“I guess so. He could be right. He might be able to help me.”

“But?”

She moved her shoulders. “I’m not comfortable with that kind of help.” She turned away from him, kneeling back down by the beer box, discomfited when he crouched beside her. He was big and warm and she wanted him to kiss her again far too much. “No other victims, right? I was worried when I saw you that you’d found another.”

“No. No more victims that I know of.”

“Good. I’ve got to do inventory before my ride comes. Go get some rest.”

“Eve.” She didn’t look up so he gently grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Your ride is right here. Leave that till tomorrow. I’ll take you home.” His mouth bent in an awkward smile she wished she didn’t find so endearing. “Hunter drove up when I did. He had a crowd in his truck. Looked like an entire college basketball team.”

“He and Tom must have found a pickup game somewhere. Tom’s his nephew. He’s a home team star,” she added, unashamed of the unabashed pride in her voice.

“Tom Hunter. I’ve seen him play. The kid is really good. You know him?”

Eve’s brows lifted at his hopeful tone. “You want me to get you tickets, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say no.” He smiled when she chuckled. “Really, how do you know him?”

She sobered. “Yesterday you asked why that man tried to kill me six years ago.”

His smile disappeared. “You said he wanted to get to his wife and son. Oh.” He’d made the connection, she could see. “Tom was his son.”

“Yes. Tom and I both lived in the same shelter for a while, so we kind of grew up together. After Tom’s father was caught, his mother ended up marrying David’s brother. The Hunters are family. Tom’s the reason I picked Minneapolis.”

His dark brows crunched slightly. “You picked it?”

“I’d finally decided I couldn’t stay in Chicago. I had a quarter in my hand and a map on the table. Heads Carolina, tails California. Then the phone rang. Tom had just been offered a basketball scholarship here in Minneapolis. So I decided to come with him.”

“Then I’m even happier he’s there,” he murmured, meeting her eyes directly.

Flustered, she looked back into her box. “Where is David?”

“He said he had to drive the guys back to their dorm, but he didn’t want you to have to wait so he said they’d have to squeeze you in. I told him I’d take you home.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. “Peace offering.”

“I seem to be getting a lot of these tonight.” She peeked inside. “A deadbolt?”

He frowned slightly. “CSU didn’t find your keys. Somebody could have picked them up. I’ll change your lock for you.”

Eve was suddenly cold. “I didn’t leave my door unlocked yesterday, did I?”

His eyes flickered and she knew he agreed. “I don’t know, but I’d rather be careful.”

“Buckland was at the scene last night. He took pictures of my car.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “You think he has your keys?”

“It’s possible, isn’t it?”

His lips thinned. “Probable even.” Then he stood and pulled her to her feet, his eyes dangerous. “Let me take you home. I’ll replace your lock before I leave.”

Wednesday, February 24, 12:15 a.m.

Eve’s cell phone vibrated on the arm of her stuffed chair. It was David, which meant he was at her front door. She’d called to tell him that Noah changed the lock, resulting in a string of harsh profanity toward Buckland. She opened the door. “Sshh,” she cautioned.

She waved him to follow her to the kitchen, tiptoeing past Noah, who sat sprawled on her sofa. “He fell asleep,” she whispered. “I fixed him something to eat while he replaced the deadbolt, but he was out cold. I think he’s just exhausted.”

“He must be, to have fallen asleep on that thing. I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Go sleep in my bed. I’ll take the sofa when he wakes up and goes home.”

“Sleep in your own bed.” He held open the shopping bag. “Blow-up mattress.”

She shook her head. “It’ll make too much noise when you inflate it. You’ll wake him up.”

“He can’t have been asleep that long. Wake him up and send him home.”

It would be the logical thing to do. But she shook her head again. “Let him sleep. You take my bed.” In the living room, Noah hadn’t budged an inch. He’d taken off his overcoat and suit coat to replace her lock, but still wore his shoes, his tie. And his gun.

He’ll get a crick in his neck sprawled like that. She tugged on his feet, staggering under the weight of his long legs as she lifted them to the sofa. If he woke, so be it. But he didn’t, not even when she took off his shoes and loosened his tie.

She should move, but stayed crouched at his side, looking into his face. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. She’d kissed that mouth. In the Deli she’d told herself it was for his job. Damage control. But she’d wanted to kiss him. She’d wanted to for months.

She relived that moment in the bar when he’d kissed her for himself. She’d wanted him to do it again, but he hadn’t. He’d brought her home and kept his hands to himself. She looked at his hands, wondered how they’d feel, cruising over her skin.

After a year of look, don’t touch this might be her only opportunity to do either. Or both. Experimentally she trailed her fingertips across the line of his jaw, hard and unyielding even in sleep. His dark stubble was rough, prickly. She skimmed his lips with one finger. Soft. They’d been hard earlier, when he’d kissed her in the bar.

When he didn’t stir she became bolder, brushing the back of her fingers over his cheek, pushing his hair from his forehead, running her thumb over the ridge of his brow. He was, quite simply, beautiful. She smiled wryly, fairly certain he wouldn’t like that.

She pulled her hand back before she gave in to the temptation to explore further.

“Don’t stop.” He opened his eyes, held hers.

She froze. “I… I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. Now I’m not.” He took her hand, held it as if it were fragile glass as he pressed his lips to her wrist where her pulse hammered. Carefully he tugged, pulling her to him, his other hand threading through her hair.

Yes. Please. “No.” She lurched to her feet and he let her go. Lying flat on his back, he looked up at her, his eyes asking the question his voice did not. Closing her eyes, she pursed the side of her mouth that obeyed. “I don’t have to explain to you.”

“No. No, you don’t have to.” He sat up. “Look at me, Eve.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, ashamed for herself and sad for them both.

He shook his head. “There’s no need to be sorry. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I was just checking on my red-zones.”

He patted the cushion next to him. “Then show me. I need to understand them.”

Come on, Eve, Noah thought. Give me this much. He waited, exhaling silently when she picked up her computer and sat next to him, taking care not to touch him.

But she had, and it was all he’d been able to do to keep from rolling her beneath him and taking what he craved. Thankfully he’d held himself in check. Eve had always made him think of a doe, nervous and ready to flee. Tonight, she was more so than ever. But she’d ventured closer. That has to be good enough for now.

Beside him, she drew a breath and pushed her laptop screen back so he could see. “I’m using Greer tonight, checking out Ninth Circle for three of my red-zones.”

Her scent filled his head and he tried to focus. “Three? Aren’t there five?”

“Yes, but Rachel will be dancing at the casino.” She said it as a professor might lecture. “Natalie is always there, playing poker. We’ll go there when I’m done. There’s the dancer who was with Christy.”

He choked back a cough. The male avatar was dancing with Lola, Abbott’s raven-haired siren. Noah slid his arm across the back of the sofa. “What are they dancing?”

She glanced pointedly over her shoulder at his arm. He wasn’t touching her, but he was in her space. But she didn’t protest and he let himself relax a little. “Salsa,” she said levelly. “It’s not as easy it looks. You execute the dance steps with a series of keystrokes. It’s fast and complex and my right hand still isn’t dexterous enough.”

If that made her wistful, it didn’t show in her voice. Nothing showed in her voice, which had him increasingly frustrated. Over the next twenty minutes, Greer located three of Eve’s five remaining red-zones. She pointed them out, and in that same professorial tone she told him everything she knew about them. She knew quite a lot actually, likes, dislikes, what they searched for in the virtual world.

“This one is Kathy,” Eve said. “In Shadowland, she’s a real estate tycoon. IRL, she’s a retired real estate agent. She’s thirty-eight years old.”

IRL meant in real life, he recalled. “She’s retired at thirty-eight? Why?”

“Kathy has a degenerative muscle disease. She’s been in a wheelchair for a year now and it’ll just get worse.” She swallowed hard. “She told me when she came into Pandora’s to buy her avatar. When she’s not making deals, she plays virtual tennis. She continues the life she had in the real world, here. I didn’t know she was one of my test subjects until I hacked the list, right after Martha disappeared.”

“Bittersweet,” he murmured. “She can do what she loves, but it’s all pretend.”

“Sometimes that has to be enough,” she murmured, then looked up at him, her expression suddenly anxious. “Noah, she can’t defend herself. If he comes after her…”

He frowned at the screen. “Does she live with anybody?”

“No. She lives alone with a service dog. A nurse checks in on her once a day.”

“So she can’t leave her house to meet him? That’s been his MO.”

“No, she’s homebound. So she’s safe, right?”

“I’ll have a cruiser do drive-bys and when I leave here, I’ll check on her myself.” He called Abbott’s cell, knowing he was still awake, and made the request. “It’s done.”

“Thank you,” she said. Then she pulled away. “All red-zones are accounted for.”

Frustrated, he kept his voice level. “So we’re off to the casino?”

“Yes. Finding the last two won’t take long.”

Which was a shame. He wanted this time with her. Needed it. “Then let’s go.”

Greer was winding through the crowd when a message popped up at the base of the screen. Can I buy you a drink tonight?

“Him again. I swear, he hits on Greer every night.” Sorry, I’m calling it an early night, she typed back. Try that black-haired dancer over there. She’s been doing the salsa for a while. I bet she’s thirsty.

I tried her. She was rude, too.

“I feel sorry for him,” she said softly. “He’s just hoping for some attention.” I’m sorry, she typed. I didn’t mean to be rude.

Then let me buy you a drink.

Look, I’m in a hurry tonight. How about a rain check? Next time, for sure.

The avatar’s face beamed. I’ll hold you to it.

“Will you let him buy you a drink next time?” Noah asked.

“I don’t make promises I don’t keep.” She sent Greer to the casino and turned up the volume. He was suddenly struck by the feel of a real Vegas casino. Noise and activity… and anticipation. Greer stopped at a poker table. “That’s Natalie.”

A voluptuous redhead sat at a poker table and from the stack of chips in front of her, was doing very well. Eve paused for a moment to watch.

“Do you play?” Noah asked. “I mean as an avatar.”

She smiled, faintly. “Used to, but I don’t have time anymore. A few years ago, I was the one to beat. Or my Moira avatar was. She was the grand poker champion.”

She picked names for a reason, he knew. “Moira. What does it mean?”

“It’s a little twist on Moirae. The Three Fates in Greek mythology.”

“Hm.” He was quiet for a moment. Fate, not luck or skill. “So you do believe in fate?”

“I wish I did,” she said without inflection. “Things would be so much simpler.”

“Did you ever play poker IRL?” he asked wryly.

“A little five-card stud with friends, never for money. But Moira made a lot of money.”

He fidgeted, her sofa poking him. “I hope she spent hers on a comfy sofa.”

“No, she cashed out, and I converted Moira’s Shadowbucks into real-world money.”

“Which you did not spend on a comfy sofa.”

She shook her head, totally serious. “I bought my freedom. A car that got me away from Chicago, first and last month’s rent on this place. The rest I used to pay my first semester’s tuition. After that it was touch and go, but thanks to Sal, I manage all right.”

Noah thought of the last year, when she’d thought no one was watching. “You give your money away,” he said, his throat suddenly tight. “I’ve seen you,” he insisted when she looked like she would deny it. “I’ve seen you take dollars from your tip jar and give them away. To two women.” The same two women, he realized. “Who are they?”

“They operate a women’s shelter. When they need a little to tide them over…”

“You give it to them.” He swallowed hard. “You are a very generous woman.”

She looked up then, her dark eyes intense. “Fate is simply circumstance, Noah. The circumstance of birth, of ability, of events. Choice is what you do with it. I may not believe in fate,” she said, “but I do believe in choice. And I believe in giving back.”

People need purpose, she’d told him. But people also need lives, he thought, and I’ve been without one too long. And so had Eve. He was trying to think of a way to say that without seeming self-serving when a stir at the poker table broke the moment.

She turned back to her screen as a chorus of boos erupted. Crowd favorite Natalie had lost big. Raking in the chips was a male avatar, very dashing. “Who is that?”

She scowled. “Dasich. He fancies himself quite a card shark. He cheats.”

“How do you know?”

“He wins too often and too well. I think he has a confederate at the table. But being in the virtual world, that’s hard to prove.”

“He looks like one of your designs. Very handsome.”

“He is, and he proves what I’ve always known. Bad people rarely look bad. If bad people look sleazy, good people don’t trust them. Cops like you catch them more easily. But if bad people look normal, honest…”

“Trustworthy?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Yeah. Then they’re able to worm their way in, find the vulnerability, exploit it.”

He wondered if she knew how hard her voice had become. Brittle. “And I?” he asked. “Am I one of those people looking to exploit your vulnerability?”

She glanced up, her eyes now guarded. “Yes. Not for nefarious reasons, but you have an agenda.” She smiled, attempting to soften her words. “You’ve been alone too long, and you want someone again. For some reason, you’ve decided that’s me.”

She had a way of boiling things down to the bottom line. “But?” he asked, sharply.

“It can’t be me,” she said simply, then pointed at the screen. “Natalie’s avatar is pissed off and filing a grievance against Dasich. Not much chance of justice, but at least she’s here and not meeting a serial killer somewhere. One more red-zone to go and we’re done for the night. Rachel Ward, where are you?”

Noah knew she’d tried to let him down gently, as she had the lonely avatar who kept trying to buy her a drink. He also knew he should take the hint and walk away. But he’d seen the loneliness in her eyes, too, and he wasn’t giving up just yet.

She sent Greer to a stage in a dark corner where dancers writhed more erotically than animated characters should. “Rachel’s Delilah should be dancing tonight.”

Eve’s face became troubled as she searched the area. “But she’s not,” he said.

“No, but the night’s still young. Rachel might just be late.”

“So what do we do?” Noah asked.

“I’ll wait and watch. I’m sure you have other things to do.”

Noah leaned back, got as comfortable as her sofa allowed. “I’ve got time.”

She looked up at him, frowning in frustration. “You’re not taking a hint, are you?”

He tried for smooth even though his heart pounded. “No. Are you throwing me out?”

Something moved in her eyes. “I made you a sandwich earlier. It’s in the fridge.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. “I could eat.”

She sighed. “You want some tonic water with that?”

“I hate tonic water.”

“You-?” She shook her head. “Then cola or juice or milk?”

He stood when she did. “Milk. And let’s be quiet so we don’t disturb your guest.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You sneak. You just pretended to be asleep the whole time.”

He smiled, but grimly. “Like you said, I have an agenda. Let’s eat.”

Wednesday, February 24, 12:45 a.m.

“Your sister was arrested with a prostitute named Belle,” Olivia had said when she’d picked Liza and Tom up. They found Belle pretty easily in one of the bars Liza hadn’t been allowed to enter the night before.

“Detective Olivia,” Belle said. “How the hell are you?”

“Wishing I weren’t seeing you here,” Olivia said, but kindly. “I’m looking for the woman in this picture. Her name is Lindsay Barkley. Do you know her?”

“Yeah, I know her. We call her Little Red, on account of her hair.”

“So have you seen her?” Olivia asked. “She hasn’t been home lately.”

Belle thought. “Not since the weekend. She was working the Hay.”

The Hay Hotel, Liza thought. “I checked there last night. Nobody’s seen her. Please, anything you can think of.”

Belle’s face was sympathetic. “You might try Jonesy. He’s been watchin’.”

“Why?” Olivia said, narrowing her eyes. “Why’s he watching? And who?”

“I s’pose he has his reasons. That’s all I know. I’d tell you if I knew. I would.”

“Who is Jonesy?” Liza asked when they were back in Olivia’s car.

“Minor dealer. Don’t go looking. I’ll ask my pals in narcotics if they know him.”

“All right,” Liza said. “I’ve got to sleep tonight. Can you call me tomorrow?”

“If I know something, I will.”