I’m Watching You

Chapter Nine

Friday, February 20,

8:30 A.M.

„You don’t look so good, sugar.“

Kristen looked up from the pile of papers on her desk, bleary-eyed. John’s secretary stood in the doorway of her office, her lower Up pushed out in a worried pout, a stack of folders in her arms.

„Thank you so much, Lois.“ She eyed the folders bale-fully. „Don’t say those are for me.“

„ ‘Fraid so.“ The pile landed on her desk with a thump, leaving Lois’s hands free to plunk down on her generous hips. „Did you sleep last night?“

No, not a wink. „A little.“ She unscrewed the cap from the thermos Owen had filled that morning and refilled her cup. „But I have enough coffee to keep me going.“

„Any new letters?“

She shook her head, thinking of the footprints Reagan had found in the snow next to her windows. „No, but it will happen. It’s only a matter of time.“

Fellow prosecutor Greg Wilson poked his head in the door. „Did you ask her, Lois?“

Lois turned around with a frown. „I was getting to it.“

Greg ambled into the room. He’d just celebrated his fortieth birthday, but retained boyish good looks that made all the women in the office by turns sigh in admiration and grumble in envy. „We’re all worried about you, Kristen.“

Kristen felt a prick of annoyance. „I can take care of myself, Greg.“

He waved his hand as if she hadn’t spoken. „Come stay with us. We have an extra room since my mother-in-law ran off with that man from her bingo parlor.“

Kristen’s mouth dropped open. „What?“

„Yeah, my mother-in-law met this guy and! – “

Kristen shook her head, as much to clear her brain as to shut him up. „No, you want me to come stay with you?“

„We all know you live by yourself,“ Lois rushed to explain. „We drew straws to see who would ask you.“

Kristen raised a brow. „And you lost, Greg?“

„No, I won. We want you to come stay with us. Until all this blows over.“

Touched, she found a smile. „I don’t think your wife will approve.“

„It was my wife’s idea.“

Kristen’s eyes widened. „You told her about the letters?“

Greg frowned. „Of course not. I told her your house was being renovated and you needed a place to stay.“ He grew a little sheepish. „Then she saw Richardson ’s spot last night and confronted me about it over breakfast this morning. But I still didn’t say anything. What do you say?“

Kristen looked up at the two of them, their faces so earnest and concerned and her heart clenched, just a little. It had been a long time since someone went out of their way to take care of her. No, it hasn’t. Reagan did last night. „I say it’s a wonderful gesture.“

Greg scowled. „But?“

„But I won’t be driven from my own home. Besides, Lieutenant Spinnelli is having a surveillance camera installed today.“

Greg looked resigned. „I think you’re making a mistake.“

She smiled at the two of them. „Thanks. I mean it.“

Lois leaned over the desk to give her a quick hug and Kristen stiffened. It had been a long time since she’d been cared for, still longer since she’d been embraced in any way. Lois immediately pulled back, her cheeks reddening slightly, but she made no apology for her unexpected gesture. „You’ll tell us if we can help you, Kristen.“

„I will. I promise.“ With an effort Kristen lightened her voice to soften the dismissal. „Now, I’ve got less than an hour to review all these new files before I have to be in court.“

Lois exited, shaking her head. Greg stopped at the door for a last comment, his normally pleasant face grim. „Kris, we’re seriously worried. Don’t underestimate this guy.“

She met his eyes. „I won’t.“

Then she sank back down into her chair, staring at the new files she’d add to her caseload. After a minute she shook herself and lifted the first folder from the stack. And sighed. Another rape case.

Some days were better than others. This wouldn’t be one of those days.

Friday, February 20,

11:00 a.m.

„Thanks for waiting for me.“

Abe looked over at Kristen in the passenger seat. Those had been the first words she’d uttered since climbing up into his SUV, her coat unbuttoned, her cheeks flushed from a combination of cold and exertion. She’d run down the courthouse stairs so fast he’d been shocked she hadn’t tripped on her high heels. For the first twenty minutes of the drive she glanced nervously behind them until he assured her that although Zoe Richardson had been following, they’d lost her a few miles back.

Now she sat unmoving, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery of the quiet little neighborhood in the suburbs that was home to the first of Ross King’s young victims.

„It’s all right,“ he said. „I used the time to make some calls.“

Another thirty seconds passed, then she murmured, „Anything new?“

„Jack found traces of dried milk on the inside of one of the crates. Two percent.“

She didn’t move a muscle, her eyes still glued to the window. „Wouldn’t you expect to find milk in milk crates?“

„Not unless they’d recently been used for a milk delivery.“

„So he has access to a person or business that gets milk in crates?“

„Versus using them to hold up his stereo equipment. Yeah.“

„He could have picked them up from anywhere.“

Abe shrugged, a little unnerved by her lack of animation. Something had happened that morning, and he had no illusions she’d trust him enough to be forthright with the information. „Maybe. It’s one more piece of the puzzle though. Jack also found ground marble on all the crates, but that was no surprise since the killer lined the crates with marble tiles.“

He pulled the SUV to the curb in front of their first stop.

„Are you going to tell me what happened?“ he asked sharply and she stiffened. „Another letter?“

Her head whipped around, her green eyes wild and turbulent. „No. I would have told you that. I’m not stupid, Detective.“

He wanted to touch her, to soothe her, but of course he did not „Then what?“

Her eyes quieted. „I got a new sexual assault case today. The victim and her father were waiting for me outside my office when I got back from motion hour.“

So that explained her terse tone when she’d called his cell phone to ask for another half hour. He said nothing, just waited for her to continue. After a few seconds and a weary slump of her shoulders, she did.

„She broke down in my office, terrified to testify. Her father all but threatened her if she didn’t. Said he wouldn’t rest until the scum was behind bars.“

„She won’t make a very compelling witness if the jury thinks she’s being coerced.“

She looked back at the house beyond the curb. „No, no she won’t, even though I think she’s telling the truth. Plus, the physical evidence isn’t very strong. I have to decide if we have enough to charge the man she’s accused.“

„And if you do, you’ll have to put her on the stand.“ He followed her gaze to the little house. „Like the boys in the King case.“

She sighed, deep and long. „And the Ramey case and all the other cases. Every time a victim of sexual assault goes on the stand, they live it all over again.“

„Maybe that’s how they heal. Learn to forget. Go on with their lives.“

She turned again, met his stare, her eyes now filled with sorrow and a vulnerable regret that made his heart clench. „They never forget,“ she said quietly. „They might heal and they might go on with their lives, but they never, ever forget.“ She opened the door and hopped down. „Let’s get this over with,“ she said without looking back at him.

Stunned, he simply sat watching her back as she faced the house, then made himself move to where she stood on the sidewalk. „Kristen – “

She shook her head, a hard, resolute movement that made him leave it alone. He wasn’t sure what he’d been going to say anyway.

She gestured at the driveway. „The Restons have company,“ she said.

It was true. Cars lined the driveway and the other side of the street.

„Mr. Reston was their spokesman. They stood together then,“ she explained and started up the front walk. „All the parents. I guess that hasn’t changed.“

She didn’t even have to knock on the door. It opened as they stepped onto the front porch. Standing inside was a man in his sock feet wearing a Bears sweatshirt and a battered pair of jeans. On his face he wore weary resignation.

„Miss Mayhew,“ he said softly. „We’ve been expecting you.“ He opened the door wider and they entered. Abe looked around the room where nine more adults sat. All studied him with curiosity, then lowered their gazes to look at Kristen with hostile accusation.

Which made Abe madder than hell. He drew a deep breath and reminded himself why they were there. Their children had been horribly victimized, not only by King, but also by the judicial system that failed to give them justice. Standing behind Kristen, he touched her shoulder lightly. She flinched at the contact, then cleared her throat.

„This is Detective Reagan. He’s been assigned to this case.“

Which case didn’t need to be said. Not one of the parents said a word.

Her shoulders rigid, Kristen continued. „Ross King was murdered. We’d planned to spend the morning informing the families of his victims, but you’ve made our job easier by being here all together.“

„So happy to make your job easier, Miss Mayhew.“ The sarcastic sneer came from one of the men on the sofa and Abe again had to remind himself of why they were there.

Kristen ignored the jab. „You all have obviously been informed.“

Reston gestured to the coffee table where five envelopes sat in a neat row. „We all received these yesterday morning. And we saw that reporter on the news last night.“

Kristen searched the room. „Where are the Fullers?“

„They got divorced last year,“ Reston answered. „She moved back to L.A. with their boy. His company moved him to Boston. Their marriage just couldn’t take the strain.“

A woman rose from the love seat and came to stand beside Reston, sliding her arm around his waist in the way of a supportive wife. „We knew you’d been to see those women yesterday. We figured it was only a matter of time before you came to us.“ She looked up, met Abe’s eyes with challenge in hers. „We used to be a normal, happy family, Detective Reagan. Until Ross King. Not one of us is sorry to see him dead.“

Abe searched the faces of each parent, choosing his words carefully. „I won’t insult your intelligence by acting as if I assumed otherwise. I won’t debase my own integrity by acting as if Ross King deserves my compassion. But it’s my job to investigate murder, regardless of how I feel about the victim. I don’t expect you to accept that, but that doesn’t make it any less of a reality.“

There was absolute silence in the room. Then one of the women started to cry. Her husband stood, helpless rage on his face. „Tell us this, Miss Mayhew. Did he suffer?“

The woman looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. „You owe us that much.“

Kristen looked up at Abe over her shoulder and for a moment the sobbing mother’s anguish was reflected in her eyes. Then it was gone. She looked back to the waiting parents. „I can’t give you details on an ongoing investigation.“

„Goddamn you to hell!“ Still another father jumped to his feet. „We did what you said. We put our boys through hell because you said you could put him away.“ Dropping back into his seat, his chin dropped to his chest and his shoulders started to shake. „Goddamn you,“ he whispered.

Abe could feel her hesitate, then her breath left her in a silent sigh. „I can’t give you details,“ she repeated. „But…“

The father looked up and Abe felt his own eyes sting at the man’s sheer misery. „But?“ the man whispered.

„He suffered,“ Kristen said simply.

„A lot,“ Abe added flatly, wondering what the parents would do next. They looked at each other, grim relief the predominant theme. „I realize that when we find King’s murderer you all are likely to send him a thank-you card, but – “

„Try a twenty-year-old bottle of scotch.“

„A week in my Florida time-share.“

„Season tickets to the Bears.“

Abe held up a hand to quiet them. „I get the picture. Still, I hope you’ll give me your cooperation. Did anyone see anything that would help establish the time the notes were delivered?“ No one said a word and Abe sighed. „You are obviously smart people. You know from the news that King is not the only one that’s been killed. You also know that we can’t condone vigilante justice. If you did condone it, you would have offed King yourselves.“

„How do you know we didn’t?“ Reston asked carefully.

„I don’t,“ Abe said. „But like I said, you’re smart people. You know you’re all on my suspect list. You also know your being there won’t make this any easier for your kids. They’ve already been through hell. Now, I’m thinking the only reason you didn’t off King yourselves three years ago was because you didn’t want your kids to grow up visiting you in Joliet.“ He saw them flinch at that and knew he’d made his point. „I need to know when you got the notes, then I’ll need to know where you were the night King disappeared.“

„What night did he disappear?“ Mrs. Reston asked.

„First things first.“ Abe took out his notepad. „Since I only know the Restons here, I need to know your name, where you found the note, and when did you receive it?“

Mr. Reston shrugged. „I fell asleep on the sofa the night before last. I woke up at three a.m. and opened the front door to lock the storm door and saw the note stuck in the frame.“

„Good.“ He wrote it down. „Next?“ All the other parents said they’d seen the notes when they woke up. One at six, then others at seven a.m.

He’d gotten responses from all but the man who’d shouted at Kristen. That man was still sitting with his head hung low. Abe waited, but the man didn’t say anything.

Kristen had said nothing since during the questioning. Now she bent over and touched the man’s shoulder. „What time did you get home, Mr. Littleton?“

He looked up, narrowed his red eyes. „What are you talking about?“

His wife sighed wearily. „You know what she’s talking about, Les. He got home about one-thirty.“ She glanced up at Abe. „Les and Nadine Littleton.“

„Was the note there then, Mr. Littleton?“ Kristen asked.

„Yes.“ Littleton turned away. There was more, Abe knew it.

„Did you see anyone deliver it?“ Kristen pressed, but gently.

Littleton hesitated, then nodded. „He slid the envelope through the mail slot.“

Abe waited, but the man said nothing more. „And? What did he look like?“

Littleton shrugged tightly. „Dressed in black. Average height. Nothing else.“

„A car?“ Kristen touched his shoulder again. „Please, Mr. Littleton.“

„White van. That’s all I know.“

Kristen straightened. „Can I speak to you alone for a moment, Mrs. Littleton? You can start on whereabouts,“ she murmured to Abe. „We’ll be right back.“

As she led Mrs. Littleton into the kitchen, he turned back to the group. To a couple they all swore they were at home with each other on the night in question. Kristen returned with Mrs. Littleton and pulled on her gloves.

„I have the Littletons’ whereabouts, Detective Reagan.“

He shot her a puzzled glance, then closed his notepad and bagged the five envelopes on the table. „I’d like to ask you all not to speak to the press.“

„And if we do?“ Reston asked.

Abe sighed. „It’s your right, of course. But Zoe Richardson isn’t interested in anything more than a sound bite. You kept your kids’ names out of this the first time. I hope your priorities are still in the right place.“ He left them with that and he and Kristen walked back to the SUV in silence. When they were both buckled in, he started the engine. „I’m waiting.“

She sighed. „Mr. Littleton has developed a drinking problem since the trial. He was arrested a few months ago for a bar fight. Mrs. Littleton came to me and asked me to help.“

„That must have been hard for her to do.“

One russet brow lifted wryly. „You have no idea. Anyway, I worked with the ASA on the case to plead Littleton down to a lesser misdemeanor with probation and participation in a sobriety program. I just guessed he was out drinking last night. Mrs. Littleton gave me the name of the bar and the cab service that brought him home. Maybe the cab driver saw something. Mr. Littleton was also out the night of King’s disappearance. He was at the bar until the cab brought him home.“ She looked away, back up at the Restons’ house. „I didn’t see the need to make him air his problems in front of the others.“

Abe put the SUV in gear. „Well, I’ve learned a few things here.“

Her face was still turned to the window. „Such as?“

„Our boy drives a white van, goes for the trite statement in black evening wear, delivered the notes sometime between one-thirty and three A.M. and…“ He waited until she met his eyes. Warily.

„And?“

„And you are a very kind person, Kristen Mayhew.“

Her eyes widened in undisguised surprise and her cheeks reddened, but she didn’t look away and the moment stretched on, Abe suddenly aware of the quickening of her breath. It matched the beating of his own heart. She swallowed hard, her whisper coming out husky. Incredibly sexy. „Thank you, Abe.“

His eyes dropped to her slightly parted lips, then lower to where her pulse fluttered at the hollow of her throat And because the air was undeniably charged and because she pulled her full lower lip between her teeth and especially because getting back to work was absolutely the last thing on his mind, Abe resolutely turned in his seat and pulled the SUV away from the curb. „You’re welcome.“

Friday, February 20,

1:00 p.m.

Zoe was seething, even the information she’d managed to pull from a technician inside the ME’s office a bitter victory. Here they sat, in front of the courthouse waiting for the queen to emerge from hiding. Dammit. „I can’t believe you lost them.“

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. „I said I was sorry every one of the ten times you said that. You think you can keep up with a cop who doesn’t want to be followed, fine. You drive next time and I’ll shove a mike down some poor bastard’s throat.“

Zoe rolled her eyes. At least she had the name of the cop from the license plates on his SUV. Detective Abe Reagan. A call into Records revealed he was career CPD with a cop family and a dead wife. He’d look good on tape. Great profile, and those linebacker’s shoulders. Mmm. Made her envious of Mayhew sitting in his passenger seat. „Well, she’s got to come back sometime.“

Scott squirmed, impatient from the waiting. „You got the names of the bodies they pulled up yesterday. Why don’t you get film of that?“

It was true. One small indiscretion after an office holiday party had given her an eternal fountain of information inside the ME’s office. It was amazing what men would do to keep their wives from learning about their flings. She figured she’d earned it. She still shuddered at the thought of being touched by hands that routinely cut up dead people.

So now she knew there were three crimes vindicated by Kristen’s vigilante and five dead bodies in the morgue and their names. She could have gotten film of the families of the children killed by the Blade Trio, but she didn’t want to miss getting film of Mayhew’s face when she popped the question of the day.

„Well?“ Scott demanded. „We going to the house with the dead little kids or not?“

„Not,“ Zoe snapped. Then she straightened in her seat as Detective Reagan’s SUV pulled up in front of the courthouse. „Showtime, Scott Let’s go.“

She waited until Kristen was out of the SUV and halfway up the courthouse steps before jumping from the car, Scott at her heels, tape rolling. She stepped into Kristen’s path and took great pleasure in the way the woman’s eyes flashed in anger.

„No comment, Richardson,“ she ground out. She moved up a step, but Zoe headed her off smoothly while making it look as graceful as a dance step. It was a gift.

„I haven’t asked the question yet, Counselor.“

„But you will.“

„I will. How about now?“ she pulled the mike close to her own mouth. „Can you confirm you now have five murders, ASA Mayhew?“

Mayhew’s eyes widened in momentary shock, then narrowed. „No comment.“ She started walking, Zoe keeping up step for step, Scott catching the whole dance on film.

„Is it true that the killer has sent you personal letters, offering the murders as a gift?“

Mayhew stopped abruptly, her mouth drawn in a tight line. „No comment.“ But the abrupt halt had said it all. She darted up the steps and Zoe let her go with one last jab, shouting her final question at Mayhew’s retreating back.

„He signed the notes to Ramey’s victims ‘Your Humble Servant.’ Is that how your letters were signed, ASA Mayhew?“

Kristen stopped and turned, now completely composed. „Perhaps you didn’t comprehend me the first three times. No comment, Miss Richardson.“

„Keep rolling,“ Zoe commanded, and Scott kept rolling until Kristen had disappeared inside the courthouse.

Scott lowered the camera. „How did you know she personally got letters?“

Zoe smiled serenely. „I’m good, Scottie. And don’t you forget it.“

Friday, February 20,

1:30 p.m.

The words on the pages in front of her blurred. She hadn’t read a single word.

It just wasn’t fair.

Kristen bit her lip. How many times had she heard that phrase in the five years since she’d joined the State’s Attorney’s Office? Too many times from too many victims, which most of the time didn’t make it any less true. How many times had she said it herself? Not recently, she had to admit. At least not when it came to her own life.

Which right now well and truly sucked.

But her life had been worse. A couple of times. Seriously worse. Even so, she wasn’t one to complain. She kept her personal life personal. So why today? Damn. She clenched her teeth, dabbing at her lip with the tissue. Whatever possessed her to say that to Reagan? They never, ever forget. Am I freaking insane? She closed her eyes, looked away from her desk as if that would erase the image of Reagan’s shocked eyes from her mind. Of the sound of his voice when he called her name. Like he knew. Or the look later, after the Restons’ house. He’d looked at her with those blue eyes, bright as the center of a gas flame.

He’d called her a nice person.

God. If he only knew. Really, truly knew.

He’d wanted more. The way his gaze had heated, the way the air had grown so charged it chased goosebumps up and down her arms, shivers up and down her back.

She’d been called a number of things, but naive generally wasn’t one of them. Frigid, yes. Ice Queen, yes. Naive, not lately. Reagan had considered kissing her. Right there in front of the Restons’ house.

She huffed an empty, mirthless chuckle. If he only knew. He’d run so fast – He’d thought about kissing her. And for one insane moment, she’d wondered how it would feel having him touch her, wondered if his lips were hard or soft, wondered how it would feel to put her arms around his strong neck and hold on. Tight.

For that one insane moment, she’d considered kissing him back. Perhaps that was what had her so shaken.

„Kristen, you have a visitor.“

She jerked around to find Lois standing in her doorway, looking concerned. Kristen drew a careful breath and glanced down at her Day Timer. Her calendar was free for another fifteen minutes.

„Can you have them come back later this afternoon?“ After the press conference. After Richardson blew the roof off their case in front of every microphone in Chicago. I should’ve told Reagan, she thought. I should’ve prepared him. It was the least she could do for the man who thought she was a nice person. Hah. „I’m kind of busy now.“

„No, it can’t wait.“ Owen stepped around Lois holding a large paper bag. „You didn’t come by for lunch.“

Kristen sat back in her chair in weary relief. She gestured to the stack of folders on her desk. „Too much paperwork.“

Owen frowned his displeasure. „Paperwork is no reason to skip lunch, Kristen. I brought you some beef stew.“ He put the bag on her desk and lifted his bushy brows. „With some cherry pie for dessert.“

She looked up at him with a smile. „You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.“

He looked stern. „What trouble? I dished some stew in a plastic bowl and walked a few blocks. Besides, I had a few other orders here in the building.“ From the bag he pulled a plastic bowl, placing it in front of her. „I saw that Richardson woman on the news last night.“

She sighed. „Yeah, I caught the end of it.“

Owen frowned. „Is it true, what she said? That there’s a vigilante killer out there?“

Kristen pulled the lid from the bowl. It smelled wonderful. „Now, Owen, you know I couldn’t tell you anything whether I knew anything or not.“ She looked up, tried for a grin that fell miserably flat. „Can I still eat the stew?“

He didn’t smile back. „I’ve been watching the news all morning, Kristen. There’s been a lot of talk about vigilantes because of that Richardson woman’s account last night.“

Terrific. „So what’s the word on the street?“

His lips thinned. „That finally somebody’s taking a stand against crime in this town.“

Kristen winced. „So much for all this.“ She gestured at the pile of reports. „I’ll have to remember that when ten o’clock rolls around tonight and I’m still here.“

„Things could get ugly, Kristen.“ Owen zipped up his coat. „Me and Vincent are worried. We just want you to be careful.“

Just wait until Zoe airs her next report, Kristen thought.

Ugly will take on a whole new meaning. „I always am, Owen. Thanks for lunch.“

Friday, February 20,

1:50 p.m.

Abe set a bag on his desk. „You hungry?“

Mia looked up, sniffing deeply. „Depends. What is it?“

„Gyros and burgers.“ He peered into the bag. „And baklava.“

Mia licked her lips. „I take back every bad thing I said about you.“

Abe chuckled. „I doubt that.“

She chose a burger. „Did you get anything from the cabbie?“

„He said he saw a white van with a big flower on the side right after he dropped off Littleton early yesterday morning.“

Mia’s brows jumped. „A florist delivery van? Any name?“

„Said it had ‘flowers’ in the name,“ Abe said dryly, unwrapping his gyro. He took a deep appreciative breath. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

„Well, that oughta narrow it down.“

„To 460 places in Greater Chicago. I already checked.“

„Did Jack find anything floral on the stuff from Kristen’s car?“

„Nope, and it bothered him. Jack thought that if the killer used a flower delivery van to transport the bodies or the crates, we would have found something on the clothes at least. Pollen or something.“ He pointed to the faxed lists of Chicago area customers who’d purchased sandblasting equipment. „How’s it coming?“

Irritably, she pushed the papers away. „It would help if I knew what the hell I was looking for. There are hundreds of names here. I’ve got Todd Murphy helping run names for priors, but somehow I don’t think our guy’s been in trouble before.“

Abe was inclined to agree with her. „Well, let’s see if any of these people work in one of the florists in Chicago with ‘flower’ in the name. Give me a couple pages.“

She handed him a handful of paper, wincing when a loud shout came from Spinnelli’s office. „He’s not happy.“

Abe glanced over, saw Spinnelli pacing, holding a telephone to his ear and gesturing wildly. „What, stage fright over his press conference?“ It was scheduled for three o’clock.

„Hell, no. He’s trying to explain to the captain how Richardson got the scoop.“ She tilted her head, frowning when he just looked at her. „Oh, boy. I thought you knew.“

He felt a spear of sharp heat in his neck, a sure sign of stress. „Knew what?“

„Richardson knows that Kristen got letters, too, and that we’ve got five bodies in the morgue and their names. Apparently Richardson ambushed her going into the courthouse. Kristen called Spinnelli right after that. I thought she’d told you, too.“

His appetite disappeared. „No, she didn’t.“ In fact, she hadn’t been able to get out of the SUV fast enough. The hours after they’d driven away from the Restons’ house had been awkward, to say the least. She’d pulled back into herself, saying nothing until they reached the house of the first child killed by the gang’s gunfire. Then it was all business. And not once did she call him Abe. They talked to the families of the slain children, endured more anger and accusation, retrieved two more letters from their humble servant, then he’d driven her back to the courthouse in silence, thick and heavy.

She hadn’t called him about Richardson, hadn’t trusted him. It hurt. But it had been interest he’d seen in her eyes, sitting there in front of the Restons’ house. Interest and heat. He’d been a heartbeat away from kissing her, right there in front of the Restons’ house, which would have been completely unacceptable. Unprofessional. Probably wonderful.

But she’d pulled away. She was afraid, he knew. So am I, he thought. But Kristen’s fear ran deeper and he was afraid to contemplate its source, because he thought he knew. And if he was right, they had one hell of a long row to hoe.

I have to be insane to even consider having any rows with Kristen Mayhew, he thought. So why am I? Because she had pluck and courage. Green eyes and subtle curves. A quick mind and quiet grace. And a laugh that made him catch his breath.

Maybe it was just because she was a nice person. Maybe it didn’t have to be any more complicated than that Kristen Mayhew was a beautiful woman and a nice person.

Bullshit. It was way more complicated than that.

Mia finished her burger in thoughtful silence. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, then folded it into a tiny square. „I’ve known Kristen for a long time, probably about as well as anyone knows her,“ she finally said. He looked up and saw understanding in Mia’s blue eyes and felt his cheeks heat. „But nobody really knows her that well,“ she went on. „She’s always been a bit of a loner.“ She frowned. „They call her the Ice Queen in the locker room, which is so totally unfair.“

Abe remembered the anguish in her eyes when the mother broke down in the Restons’ living room, how Kristen had never uttered a word in her own defense when the parents’ words had been cruelly accusing. The way she’d said the victims „never, ever forget“ just before they’d gone in. No one who had seen what he’d seen could ever conceivably call her icy and cold.

„Yes, that is very unfair.“ His voice was calm. Much calmer than he felt. Kristen Mayhew brought out something in him that he hadn’t felt in years, the fierce desire to protect, to take care of anyone that hurt her.

The killer felt the same way. The realization was sudden and clear. That’s why he’d targeted her for his gifts, why he watched her in her own home.

„The killer knows her,“ he said.

Mia looked puzzled. „We know that.“

„No, he knows her. He’s seen her interact with the people, the victims.“ The compassion, the anguish. „And he doesn’t hate her.“

„What do you mean?“

Abe leaned forward, intense. „I watched her with all these victims and their families for the last two days. They’re aloof at a minimum, hostile at the most extreme.“

„Like Stan Dorsey.“

„Yeah. But no one was warm, certainly not admiring.“ Not even Les Littleton, who she’d gone out of her way to help and who still damned her in his pathetic misery.

Mia’s eyes lit up. „So either she didn’t represent them, or she didn’t lose.“

„He lost,“ Abe said, „regardless if Kristen represented him or not. Remember what Westphalen said. And my gut says he’s connected to Kristen in a real way, more than just seeing her on television. He’s met her in person, I’m certain of it. I wonder if we could find any victim who’d lost in court that didn’t blame her.“

Mia tilted her head, considering. „She gave us the list of all the cases she lost. I wonder if she noted customer satisfaction in that database of hers.“

Abe picked up the phone. „One way to find out.“

Friday, February 20,

2:00 P.M.

The man who’d originally built his house played the trumpet. The man’s wife apparently held little appreciation for her husband’s musical gifts and insisted he either give up the trumpet or soundproof the basement.

He carefully pushed the basement door closed behind him.

Luckily for him, the man had really loved his trumpet. Without the soundproofing he most certainly would have been reported by a neighbor by now.

But now, there was no sound. Skinner was dead. Rigor mortis had come and gone, leaving the body limp. He approached the body, wishing a man could be killed twice. In Skinner’s case, perhaps a hundred times. The bastard had made a career of defending scum who preyed on the innocent. Skinner’s eight-bedroom house on the North Shore, his luxury cars, the fancy private schools for his children – all were bought with blood money, all paid for by the suffering of the innocent and the vile pandering of the guilty.

He drew his pistol from the drawer, knowing it was impossible to kill a man twice, knowing he’d have to be satisfied with the symbolic gesture. With little fanfare he centered the barrel of the pistol on Skinner’s forehead.

Pulled the trigger. And nodded once. It was done. And done well.

Just a few details to wrap it up, and he’d be ready to visit Leah’s fishbowl once again. He pulled on his gloves and prepared to divest Mr. Skinner of his Armani suit After all, Skinner would find it unbearably hot when he arrived at his final destination.