The Obsession

Twenty-one

By the time Sunday morning rolled around, all Xander wanted in this world was to sleep until the sun came up. Three road service calls Friday night had pulled him away from practice for a Saturday-night gig, and dragged him out of bed. Twice.

They’d rocked the bar in Union, good exposure, good times, good pay-but he hadn’t flopped into Naomi’s bed until two in the morning.

He met Tag’s five A.M. wake-up call with a snarl.

“I’ve got it,” Naomi told him.

With a grunt of assent, Xander dropped back to sleep.

Mildly disoriented, he woke, alone, three hours later. He thought, Naomi, and scrubbed his hands over his face. Christ, he needed a shave-not his favorite sport. Then he remembered it was Sunday, and didn’t see why anybody had to shave on Sunday.

The sun shined through the glass doors. Through them he could see the blue lines of water, the quiet spread of it beyond the inlet. A couple of boats-early risers-plied the blue.

He wasn’t a fan of boats any more than he was of shaving, but he appreciated the look of them.

But at the moment, he’d appreciate coffee a hell of a lot more. He got up, pulled on his jeans, saw a T-shirt he’d left there at some point neatly folded on the dresser.

Grateful he didn’t have to wear the shirt he’d sweated through the night before, he pulled it over his head-and discovered that whatever she washed stuff in smelled better than whatever he washed stuff in.

He’d had to tap Kevin and Jenny for the favor-then persuade Naomi to drive with them to Union for a couple of hours. He’d liked seeing her there-and more, he’d liked knowing Kevin would make sure she got home, got in the house, locked up safe until he’d made it back.

She’d given him a key and the alarm code, though he wasn’t sure if it had been for the single night or what. He didn’t think she was sure either.

The… arrangement would be easier if he could leave a few essentials at her place. He wasn’t sure of his ground there-brand-new territory.

He’d never lived, even half lived, with a woman before. He’d been careful not to. His space might not have been as big as Naomi’s, but he liked his space all the same.

Yet here he was, getting out of her bed again, wearing a shirt she’d washed, and thinking about hitting her up for coffee.

This thing between them had a lot of moving parts, and he’d yet to figure out how they all fit.

But he would, he told himself as he walked out to find her-and coffee. He always figured out how things fit.

He heard her voice, pitched low, so he changed directions from the pursuit of coffee and walked to her temporary work space.

She had the windows wide open and the dog sprawled under her makeshift worktable.

The sun flooded her hair, turned it into a hundred shades of gold and bronze and caramel as she used a long tool to cut some mat board while she muttered to herself. Nearby a big, slick printer hummed while it slid a poster-size print into a tray.

It took him a minute to realize the poster-size print was of his hands holding the Austen book.

He saw himself again, already framed and matted and tipped against the wall. That shot she’d taken in the early morning, with the sunrise at his back and his eyes on her.

She had other poster prints-his book wall, his hands again, sunrise over the inlet-clipped to the arms of some sort of stand and a stack of smaller prints in a tray.

The dog’s tail thumped good morning, and since hope sprang eternal in Tag, he uncurled himself and brought Xander a ball.

Distracted, Xander laid a hand on the dog’s head and just looked at Naomi.

Immersed in her work, immersed in sunlight, slim hands competent with her tools, dark green eyes focused on her art. That long, slim body in a pale blue shirt and khaki pants that stopped above her ankles, her feet bare.

So this was what it was, this was how it fit. How his half fit anyway, he thought. It fit, all those moving parts, because he was in love with her.

Shouldn’t the universe have given him a heads-up on that? He needed a little time, needed to adjust, regroup, needed to-

Then she glanced over, and her eyes met his.

It blew through him, that storm of feeling, all but took his breath. For an instant he wondered how people lived this way, how they could carry so much for someone else inside them.

He crossed to her, yanked her up to her toes, and took her mouth like a man starving.

This. Her. His life would never be just what it had been as of that moment. And he would never be only what he’d been.

Love changed everything.

Thrown off balance, she gripped his shoulders. He made her head spin, her heart race, her knees weak. Overcome, she held on, rode the hot, fast wave with him.

When he eased back, she laid her hands on his cheeks, let out a long breath. “Wow, and good morning.”

He rested his forehead to hers a moment while tenderness twined with heat.

“Are you all right?” she asked him.

No, he thought. He might not come down to all right again for years.

“You should always wear sunlight,” he told her. “It looks good on you.”

“I think you should always sleep in.”

“No one in the actual world considers eight on a Sunday morning sleeping in.”

To give himself a moment to settle, Xander turned to the prints. “You’ve been busy.”

“I’ve got orders. The gallery, the Internet, Krista.”

“So you were right about the hands.”

“Oh yeah. Many hits on my website, and a nice bunch of orders for downloads and prints and posters on that and the book wall. I have to order more supplies.”

He looked around at boxes and stacks. “More.”

“More. I can’t set up in here as efficiently as I will when they have my studio done. I might break my own rule and nag Kevin on that. But for now I can make do. You got in late,” she added, and took the finished poster print out of the tray.

“Yeah, I got here around two, I guess. Woke the dog up.”

“I heard him-and you.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s reassuring that he barks and runs down like he’d rip an intruder to shreds. Though I suspect he’d run the other way if it was someone he didn’t know. You all sounded good last night.”

“Yeah, we had it down.”

She clipped the poster in place, moved over to her tray. “What do you think of these?”

He started to tell her he’d look after coffee, as the need for it reared up strong, but he saw the print of the band, one with the tools, the broken windshield. Taking the stack, he paged through.

“Jesus, Naomi, these are great. Really great. Dave keeps saying how he can’t decide what to use, which for what. On and on until you want to punch him.”

“That’s why I printed some out. You’ve all seen them on the computer, but sometimes prints help the choice.”

“I don’t think so. They’re all great. You did some black-and-white.”

“Moody, right?” As if checking for herself, she looked over his shoulder. “A little dangerous. You should all pick one for yourselves. I’ll frame them for you. And you should pick one to go in Loo’s.”

“Yeah, maybe. Yeah. This black-and-white for Loo’s, because it fits the atmosphere better.”

“I agree.”

“Dave’s going to develop a nervous tic trying to decide.” He set the prints back in the tray. “I need coffee.”

“Go ahead. I’ve got a couple things to finish up, then I’ll be down. You could let the dog out,” she added. “It’s too nice a day for him to be inside.”

“For anybody. We could take a drive along 101. GTO or bike, your choice.”

“If we did that, took the convertible, I could take some equipment. And the dog.”

“We’ll go by my place and pick it up.”

Even as Xander started out, Tag raced ahead of him.

He’d take the day off-from work, from shaving, from thinking about what to do, or not, about being in love.

He knew people who fell in and out of love more regularly than they came in for an oil change. But he wasn’t one of them.

He’d fallen into his share of lust, even into serious like, but this ground-just-shifted-under-my-feet feeling? A whole new experience.

He’d just let it all sit for a while, he decided. Make sure it wasn’t some sort of momentary aberration.

Halfway down the steps Tag let out a low growl and bulleted the rest of the way to the door. He snapped out two sharp barks, then looked back at Xander as if to say, Well? Let’s take care of this.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Why didn’t I go for coffee from the jump?”

Xander opened the door, saw the black Chevy Suburban pull beside Naomi’s car. And walked out as a tall man with light brown hair stepped out.

He wore sunglasses, a dark suit and tie-and a nebulous official air that said cop to Xander.

Not a local badge, but some sort of badge. And it pissed him off that Naomi would have her Sunday spoiled by more questions about Marla.

The man looked at the dog who stood by Xander’s side, then at Xander.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You’re the one who drove up here,” Xander countered just as abruptly, “so I get to ask who the hell you are.”

“Special Agent Mason Carson. FBI.”

Mason took out his credentials, held them up-and wasn’t subtle about the hand that flipped back the suit jacket to rest on the butt of his service weapon.

“Now, who the hell are you?”

“It’s all right.” Xander set his own hand on Tag’s head. “He’s okay. Xander Keaton.”

The sunglasses might have blocked Mason’s eyes, but Xander knew they narrowed and assessed.

“The mechanic.”

“That’s right. Naomi’s in the house. Upstairs finishing up some work. I’d appreciate it if you took your hand off your gun. I haven’t had coffee yet, and it’s starting to piss me off.”

Since Tag sidled over to sniff at Mason’s FBI shoes, Mason gave his head a rub. “Do you usually have coffee here?”

“It’s gotten to be a habit. If that pisses you off, it has to wait until after coffee.”

“I wouldn’t mind coffee.”

Tag raced off, raced back, ball in his mouth, dropped it at Mason’s feet.

And when Mason smiled, Xander saw Naomi.

She didn’t smile all the way often enough, in his opinion, but when she did she shared that same slow build to blinding with her brother.

“She’s going to be really glad to see you.”

Xander waited for Mason, who wasn’t so official he couldn’t throw a ball for a dog, then started back into the house.

“If we drive north,” Naomi began as she came downstairs, “I could get some… Mason. Oh God, Mason!”

She flew.

Mason caught her, swung her around, then swung her around again.

That, Xander thought, was a connection, a bond, a love that went as deep as they ever get.

She laughed, and he heard the tears in it, saw them sparkle in the jubilant sunlight that pumped through the open door.

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? You’re wearing a suit! You look so- Oh, oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Beaming right back, Mason held her a few inches away. “You have a house. And a dog.”

“Crazy, isn’t it?”

“It’s a hell of a house. Great dog. And you’ve got… a mechanic.”

“A… oh.” She laughed, gave Mason another squeeze. “Xander, this is my brother, Mason.”

“Yeah, we met outside. I’m going for coffee.”

“I’ll get it. I’ll show you the house,” she said to Mason. “We’ll start with the kitchen. Right now it’s the best part.”

“It’s a big house.”

“With plenty of room for you and Seth and Harry to visit. And I’ve talked Gram and Pop into coming out, at least by the fall. Your rooms aren’t finished yet, but we’ll figure something out. How long can you stay?”

“Mmm.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Had a bagel on the ferry.”

“We can do better than that. The ferry? Where’d you come from? I thought you were in New York.”

He made another noncommittal sound, one that put Xander on alert. It didn’t bump against Naomi’s delight, not yet. And Xander changed his mind about getting a coffee to go, and leaving the siblings to themselves for a while.

He’d stick around.

“I set up a FaceTime with the uncles for later today. They didn’t say a thing about you being out here.”

“I had to come to Seattle.” Mason stopped, looked over the kitchen space, out to the view. “Wow. Nome, this is amazing.”

“I really love it. Xander, maybe you could take Mason out on the deck. I’ll bring coffee.”

“Sure.”

“Sweet,” was Mason’s opinion when Xander opened the accordion doors. “Yeah, this would grab her. The first time she saw the ocean, she fell for it. I always expected her to end up on the East Coast, but yeah, she’d fall for this. How long have you been sleeping with my sister?”

“That’s a conversation you should have with her first, then we can have one. No problem. The quick one we should have now, before she comes out, is why you’re here. Because it’s not just a surprise visit to your sister. You’ve got business here. She doesn’t see it,” Xander added, “because she only sees you.”

“I have a meeting with your chief of police in about an hour.”

“If you’ve come to talk to him about Marla, is that FBI or the brother who’s FBI?”

“My supervisor signed off on it. You knew her, Marla Roth.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know Donna Lanier?”

A cold blade sliced into Xander’s belly. “Yeah. What happened to her?”

“I don’t know, yet, that anything has. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get to this with Naomi in my own time.”

She came out with three white mugs on a tray. “How about waffles? I bought a waffle iron,” she told Xander. “We can have an early Sunday brunch, and toast the uncles. No champagne, but I’ve got OJ.”

“Coffee works for now. Relax.” Smoothly, Mason put an arm around her shoulder, rubbed the top of her arm. “You must have taken a million pictures right from this spot.”

“It might be two million. And the town’s a charmer. We’ll have to take you through it. We could rent kayaks. I’ve been dying to. Xander, why haven’t we rented kayaks?”

“Why would I want to sit in a hole in a boat with a paddle?”

“It’s a whole new perspective.”

“I like this one fine.”

“For those who prefer land, there’s plenty of hiking. You didn’t say how long you can stay.”

“I’m not sure yet. Seth and Harry are coming out.”

“What? When? Today?”

“No, jeez, not today.” Amused, Mason sipped his coffee. “They’re probably going to spring it on you when you call later. A couple of weeks maybe-they’re working on it.”

“God, I have to get beds. And champagne. And serious supplies. If you think I can cook,” she said to Xander, “wait until Harry makes a meal.” Obviously buoyant, she jumped back to Mason. “Do you think you can put in for some time off so you can be here, too?”

“I’ll look into it.”

Sipping his own coffee, Xander saw it start to get through, when some instinct, some tone, maybe some body language told her something was off.

“Is something wrong?” The moment she asked, she went pale. “Oh God, Harry and Seth. Is something wrong? Is one of them sick?”

“No. No, they’re both fine.”

“Then what? It’s something. You… you didn’t tell me you were coming,” she said, stepping back to look at him more keenly. “You aren’t telling me how long you’ll be here. You aren’t telling me something else.”

“Why don’t we sit down?”

“Don’t do that. Just be straight with me. Is this about Marla Roth? Are you here about the murder?”

“When someone’s murdered near my sister, and my sister finds the body, I take an interest.”

“So you’re here to talk to Chief Winston.”

“I’m here to see you, and to talk to Chief Winston.”

“Okay.” Though some of the shine dimmed, she nodded. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the assistance. You don’t have to circle around telling me something like that, Mason. I know what you do.”

“It’s not just that. Another woman’s missing. Another local woman.”

“What? Who? When did- Did you know about this?” She whirled on Xander.

“No, and simmer down. Missing for how long?”

“Donna Lanier closed Rinaldo’s restaurant at approximately eleven forty-five Friday night. She was the last to leave, and was last seen by two other employees, who left about the same time. According to statements, she was supposed to drive to Olympia to spend the weekend with her sister and a cousin. Her car’s still in the lot, and she never met her sister and cousin or contacted them.”

“She could have changed her mind,” Naomi began.

“Her suitcase is in the back of her car. She’d planned to drive straight there after her shift. She hasn’t been seen or heard from since eleven forty-five on Friday, she hasn’t used a credit card, sent a text, made a call.”

“Donna. She’s the brunette?” Though she’d gone pale, Naomi’s voice stayed steady when she turned to Xander. “Early forties, round, cheerful face?”

“Yeah. She and Loo are tight. Go back to high school together. You think whoever killed Marla wasn’t passing through, didn’t just grab her up because he saw an opportunity. You think whoever did that has Donna.”

“I think it’s a strong possibility.”

“She calls everyone sweetie.” Slowly, Naomi lowered to a chair. “I noticed that when I first moved here, and I’d go in for takeout, she’d say, ‘I’ll get that right out for you, sweetie.’ Or ‘How are you doing tonight, sweetie?’”

“She has a kid in college. She raised her mostly on her own. Divorced, no interest from him in the kid. She has a daughter away at college.”

“I’m sorry.” Naomi rose again, went to Xander. “You’ve known her all your life. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never known her to hurt anybody. She’s nothing like Marla. Don’t they go for a type? She’s fifteen years older, brunette, settled, steady-and not the sort who’d catch your eye like Marla.”

“I need to talk to your chief of police, get more information.”

“How do you even know about it?” Naomi demanded.

“I contacted Winston after Marla Roth. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about it, Naomi? Christ, I’m a federal agent, I’m going to hear about it when my sister finds a body in her goddamn backyard.”

“It wasn’t, and you’re taking that tone with me to block me from taking one with you. I didn’t tell you because there wasn’t a point. I didn’t want to worry you or the uncles. Is that why they’re coming out here?”

“I haven’t said anything to them about this. Yet.”

Mason let the last word hang a moment.

“I talked to Winston about Roth, gave him my contact information, asked him to let me know if anything else came up. It came up.”

“If you two want to snipe at each other about it, I’ll stay out of the way.” Xander shrugged. “But it’s pretty pointless on both sides. I’m getting more coffee.”

“You could have told me you’d called the chief, told me you’d come here to talk to him.”

“You could’ve told me you found a dead body.”

“Next time I find one, you’ll be the first.”

“Don’t joke about it, Naomi.”

“Oh, I’m not.” She closed her eyes. “I’m not. I’m sick at the thought of it. I don’t know how you do what you do. I know why, I understand why you chose to do what you do, but I don’t know how you face it. Day after day, how you stand being faced with it. I’ve done everything I could to cut all of it out of my life, to put up walls. And you do the opposite. I can be proud of you, and I am, and still wonder how you stand it.”

“Doing this is how I stand it. We can talk about this when we’re alone, and when I have more time.”

“Chief Winston knows who we are. He ran me after I found the body.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

“Xander knows. I told him.”

“You-” Stunned, Mason stared at his sister, then Xander when Xander stepped back out. “Is that right?”

“Yes, so you don’t have to worry about what you say.”

“I can’t say much more of anything because I need to go meet Winston. I’ll be back.” Mason took Naomi’s shoulders. “I’ll be back after I meet with him. You can show me the house, what you’ve been working on.”

“All right.”

He kissed her forehead, stepped back. “I’ll be back,” he said to Xander.

As Mason left, Xander sat on the glider. “Can we just sit here for a minute?”

“I should-”

“I need it. I have to hope this isn’t happening to her. She’s one of the best people I know, and she and Loo… I need to call Loo. She’d have heard. We’d have heard most likely but we had the out-of-town gig. She’ll need to talk to me, but I need to sit for a minute first.”

Naomi went over, lowered to the glider beside him, took his hand. “We’ll just sit here, then you should go see her. It’s better if you go see her than call.”

“You’re right, but I’m not leaving you here alone. Not until we know what the hell’s happening.”

Not the time to argue, she decided. “I’ll go with you. I’ll text Mason so he knows, and go with you.”

Twenty-two

Mason’s impression of Sunrise Cove jibed with Naomi’s. It had charm, and its situation on the water added considerable appeal. He’d have enjoyed a few days downtime there, maybe renting some Jet-Skis, or that kayak his sister seemed so keen on.

He couldn’t see making it his base, as Naomi was. He liked the city, where anything and everything could and did happen. He needed a quick pace, one that kept up with his own.

But then she preferred the quiet, prized her solitude. He needed movement, conversation, needed to be part of a team. Work drove them both-hers in art and imagery, capturing moments and making them speak. His in behavior, in rules, in an endless quest to find out why.

Compensations, he knew very well, for both of them, constantly on some level trying to weigh the scale against what they’d come from.

She tried, often too hard in his opinion, to erase it, to shove it away. And he couldn’t stop studying it, aiming his life toward the pursuit of those, like his father, who lived to destroy, and found their only real pleasure in that destruction.

He didn’t know what to think about Xander Keaton or Naomi’s relationship with him. Yet. He’d study that as well.

The fact she’d told Keaton about Bowes indicated she’d formed a serious and he wanted to believe healthy attachment-something she’d avoided and denied herself all her life outside of their tight little family.

As for Keaton… on first impression Mason would tag him with one of Harry’s terms. A cool customer. But he’d already observed a number of tells. The way he’d ranged himself in front of the house-with Naomi inside-before Mason had identified himself, the firm but casual order for her to “simmer down,” and the fact that he’d told Mason to talk to Naomi when Mason had asked about sex.

Initial analysis? Mason thought as he parked in the tiny lot beside the station house. A confident man, and one who’d protect his sister. He could and would be grateful for that, for now.

And like any self-respecting brother who was also a federal agent, he’d run him.

Mason rounded to the front, noted the station had a small front porch, recently painted and swept clean as a parlor.

When he stepped inside, he had that instant déjà vu he experienced any time he went into a small-town cop shop.

Had Naomi been in here? he wondered. Would she see the similarities to Pine Meadows? Of course she would. Not the same, of course, not a mirror image, and the basic tools and equipment had advanced in the seventeen years since his father’s arrest.

But the setup struck so similar, the tone. The smell of coffee and baked goods, plastic chairs, a trio of desks in what served as both a kind of lobby and the bull pen.

A uniformed deputy sat at one of the desks, gave Mason the eye.

“Help you?”

You already know who I am, why I’m here, Mason calculated. And don’t like the idea of an outsider, especially a federal one, horning into town business.

The reaction was nothing new.

“Yes. Special Agent Mason Carson. I have a meeting with Chief Winston.”

The deputy leaned back in his chair, sized Mason up with a faint sneer that clearly read fuck you. “Have you got identification?”

Even as Mason reached for it, a man came out of the back holding a big blue mug that read CHIEF. “Mike, you climb up any higher on that horse, you’re going to get a nosebleed.” Sam stepped forward, hand extended. “Sam Winston. Pleased to meet you, Agent Carson.”

“I appreciate the time, Chief.”

“Come on back. You want some coffee? It’s not half-bad coffee.”

“I just had some at my sister’s, but thanks.”

They stepped into an office with a window at the back. The wide sill held a scatter of trophies, some framed photos, and a wildly thriving philodendron.

The desk sat on the side wall, giving the Cove’s chief views out the window and to the door. Two visitor’s chairs-straight backs, no-nonsense-angled toward it.

“Have a seat.”

Sam took the chair behind the desk that looked as though it had stood in that spot for a couple generations.

“I’m going to tell you straight off, we haven’t got line one on Donna Lanier. Her sister, her daughter, and her cousin are all on their way here. No stopping them. Her car was locked, and we found the keys on the ground, just under it. It’s clear whatever happened to her started in that parking lot.”

Mason only nodded. “I’d like to see the lot, and her residence, if possible.”

“We’ll do that.”

“You indicated Ms. Lanier lives alone, and is-to your knowledge-not in a relationship.”

“That’s right. Donna’s been divorced and single for a lot of years. Now she and Frank Peters have a drink or dinner now and then, and I do believe a bit more than that. But it’s a friendly sort of thing, and nothing serious on either side. And Frank was down at Loo’s when Donna closed up Friday. He was with a couple of friends, didn’t head out until nearly one.”

Nodding again, Mason decided to keep his notes mental for the time being. “Is that usual?”

“More like clockwork. Frank and his buddies tend to hit Loo’s on Friday nights, blow off the workweek steam.”

“Would you object if I speak to him?”

“No, and neither would he. He and Donna have been friends a long time. He’s scared for her, and I’ll admit I am, too. She’s not one to go off like this. She’s a responsible woman with a daughter she loves, a job she loves. She’s got friends. And let’s cut through this, Agent Carson. She sure as hell didn’t go willing out of that lot, without her car, keys on the ground, when she’d planned this get-together with her sister and her cousin for months now. All she could talk about was her trip, how they were getting hot-stone massages.”

“I don’t disagree, and I realize it seems as though I’m asking to cover ground you’ve already covered, and ground you know better than I ever could. Sometimes an outside perspective, a fresh eye, sees something overlooked.”

Sam looked into his mug, grimaced a little, drank. “I’m not going to argue that, and you can cover the ground all you want. But I don’t just know the ground, I know the people who live on it. And I know there’s no one in this town who could do what was done to Marla. And I know we’ve got people who come here for a few hours, a few days, maybe longer, to use the marina, the shops and bars and restaurants, the hiking trails. They rent boats and kayaks and Sea-Doos.” Sam set his mug down. “I don’t know them.”

“You believe an outsider abducted and killed Marla Roth.”

“With every bone in my body.”

“Tell me more about her.”

“Marla?” Sam puffed out his cheeks, let the air out in a half sigh. “As different from Donna as they come-and I know that’s not usual if this is the same person. Marla was thirty-one, on the wild side of things, and always has been. She divorced a good man who loved her, and still does. Who’s grieving for her. You can talk to him, too, but Chip Peters would’ve cut off both arms before laying a hand on Marla.”

“Peters.” He already knew, of course, had already looked at the connections.

“That’s right. Frank’s Chip’s uncle. Frank and Darren Peters-that’s Chip’s dad-have run the Sea to Sea Tours and Rentals for about sixteen years now. Chip’s part of that. I’m telling you he’s no part of this, and neither is Frank.”

Sam seemed to pull himself back, took another sip from his mug. “But you need to look, see for yourself.”

“Was the divorce acrimonious?”

“Ever had one?”

“No.”

“Me either, but I don’t know any that are pleasant activities.”

“My information indicates Chip-that’s Darren Peters, Junior-has a temper, often a violent one.”

“Your information’s wrong,” Sam said flatly. “What Chip has is a code, and God knows a weakness where Marla was concerned. Yes, he had what you could call a confrontation with the dickhead Marla was hooked up with some years back. I’ve got a report, I’ll get you a copy. This individual tuned Marla up, a couple times. Chip got word of it-from Marla-and gave the dickhead a taste of his own. Only took one punch to lay him out, and plenty of witnesses to that. Chip didn’t keep at him, and he could have. He used his fists once or twice otherwise-over Marla. He’s a big man, Agent Carson. One punch usually did the trick. A man prone to violence doesn’t stop at one.”

“No charges pressed?” Mason asked.

“No. In the case of the dickhead-one Rupert Mosley-I spoke to him myself. At that time he and Marla both sported shiners, and the fact was he’d given her hers. I said I’d be happy to charge Chip with assault, and they could share a cell, as I’d also be more than happy to charge him with assault on Marla. He opted against, further opted to relocate. He moved down to Oregon, outside Portland. I’ve checked his whereabouts on both nights in question. He’s alibied tight, seeing as he’s doing a nickel in CRCI for laying into another woman down there. But I’ll give you that data, too.”

“I’d appreciate it. Can I ask why Chip and Marla divorced?”

“She wanted out. She wanted more. More what, only God knows, but nothing was ever quite enough. She went at your sister at Loo’s that Friday night shortly before she went missing.”

“I’m sorry? What?”

Sam kicked back in his chair-not cocky like his deputy, but a relaxed, even amused body language. “You didn’t get that part? Well, Marla was the type who wanted whatever she wanted-and she’d decided a while back she wanted Xander Keaton.”

“Keaton.”

“Yeah-apparently they’d hit a hot round or two back in high school, which was all Xander wanted. And added to it, Xander thinks a lot of Chip. Divorced or not, he’d never go with Marla. Added to that added-to, Xander had his eye on your sister-and that was clear to anybody who cared to look. Marla took objection, and being half shit-faced at the time, got pushy with Naomi. Literally.”

“She put hands on Naomi?”

“A couple of times, making a scene, using we’ll say strong language.”

“At the bar?” Mason qualified, wanting it lined up tight. “At Loo’s the Friday night she went missing?”

“That’s right. Witness reports agree on how that went down. Marla started it, Naomi asked her to back off, a couple times. Marla shoved her again. Naomi grabbed her wrist-that’s the one most agree on-twisted it in a way that had Marla going down on the floor. Then Naomi left. Marla stayed pissy, went and got sick in the toilets there, bitched at her best friend, and stomped on out. And that’s the last anyone saw of her until Naomi found her under the bluff.”

Despite the hot ball in his belly, Mason spoke evenly. “You looked into Naomi’s whereabouts, her movements, her background.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You know Thomas Bowes is our father.”

“I do.”

“And that Naomi hasn’t seen or spoken to him since the day he was arrested.”

“I do. Just as I know you’ve visited him in prison five times to date.”

“And likely will again. When your father is a serial killer, and you pursue serial killers, it’s smart to study what you have easy access to.”

“Can’t be easy, but it’s smart. I said I know the people in my town, Agent Carson. Naomi hasn’t been here long, but I’ve got a good sense of her. She’s not involved in any of this. I’m not looking at her.”

“And Keaton?”

“Not in him.” In an easy gesture, Sam lifted his fingers from the surface of the desk as if to brush the idea away. “I’m not a psychologist or a behavior specialist-or no more than any cop-but I’ve got a sister myself, and I suspect you’d like to know what kind of man he is. He works hard. He’s got a friend he’s kept close since they were in diapers-that says something to me. He’s got a head for business, though you wouldn’t think it right off. He doesn’t flaunt that around. He reads like a scholar-never seen anybody with so many books. He’s got himself a good bar band with other friends, and they’re worth hearing. I’ve seen him with your sister a time or two, and I can say I’ve never seen him look at anyone else the way he looks at her. We’re trained observers, Agent. In technical terms?” Sam smiled, just a little. “He’s hooked.”

Sam’s chair creaked as he sat up again. “Xander’s got a soft spot for Donna-most of us do. She’s a sweetheart, and I’m sick knowing I’m sitting here without a goddamn clue where she is or what’s happening to her. If you can bring in a clue, I’m going to be grateful. I’m going to throw this in the mix, as I just got this information. A young girl-pretty thing, Maxie Upton-worked that Friday-night shift with Donna. In the usual case her car would’ve been in the lot back where Donna parked, but she got a flat coming into work, caught Xander at his garage as he was closing. She told me this morning he wouldn’t put the donut on-said all her tires were bald, and she needed new. He’d get them for her the next day, and he’d give her a ride in to work, but only if she called her father to come pick her up. She had to promise not to walk home, or even to her friend’s just a block away. She came out just a few minutes before Donna, and her father pulled up almost right away.”

“More the same type as Marla Roth?”

“Younger-Maxie’s about nineteen, but more physically like Marla than Donna. Blonde and pretty. It’s got me wondering if Donna was second choice. If Maxie’s car had been in that same area, or if Xander hadn’t made her promise not to walk alone after closing, would we be looking for her?”

“It’s possible.”

“Go out on a limb, Agent. I won’t hold you to it if things change.”

“It’s possible,” Mason repeated. “You may have an opportunist. No one could anticipate Marla Roth would walk home alone, and at that time. The killer saw an opportunity, took it. The odds of two women being taken by different people in this small an area and in this time frame are slim. Ms. Lanier was alone, in a remote area of the lot, and presented an opportunity to someone who knew the closing time, the shift.”

“You’d know that after a day around here.”

Mason had only had to drive through town to see that for himself.

“He has somewhere to take them-locally, within say twenty miles-somewhere private. He held Roth for two full days, during which time he raped and tortured her. He’d need a place, and since he dumped her body here, it’s reasonable to assume that place is within a comfortable driving distance. He would need a car, a van, a truck to transport them. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”

“Not so far,” Sam agreed, “but it adds weight. There are rental houses and cabins around town and more within that distance. We’ve checked with the closer ones, talked to the people in them, to the owner or manager.”

“You might want to expand your area, ask the rangers to canvass cabins and houses inside the national park. It’s not far, and a good area for what he does, a private, quiet place. He’s white, between twenty-five and forty-probably closer to the younger end.”

“Why the younger?”

“More mature would probably be more patient, take more time to stalk the prey. This one jumps on it. And it is likely he wanted the young girl instead of Donna, but he took her because she was there. More mature would be more likely to wait until he gets another chance with his target. Once he has her, it doesn’t matter. She’s whoever he wants her to be.”

“Is she a surrogate? I’ve done some reading,” Sam added. “Does she represent someone?”

“Possibly. It’s too soon for me to commit to that, but I can tell you he’s a sexual sadist, so he enjoys what he does. He’s not impotent, but may only be able to climax through rape, through giving the victim pain, through feeding on that pain and the fear. He kept Roth for two full days, and as you haven’t found a second body, he still has Donna Lanier. While the kill is the ultimate release, he knows when he takes it, it’s over. So he prolongs it as long as he can.”

Mason paused, half wished he had that coffee, and went on.

“Taking two in such a short amount of time indicates he’s found what he believes is a prime location. It’s a small town, but in a very open area. The people in the town and area have routines he can study quickly. In small towns with a low violent-crime rate people feel secure, don’t worry about walking home alone, crossing into a dark area of a parking lot after closing. I suspect many here don’t routinely lock doors and windows, lock their cars. I could walk around town, check visors, and probably find any number of keys.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“He knows places like this and has certainly spent time studying them. He’s killed before.”

Once again Sam angled forward. “Yes. Yeah, that’s what my gut told me. Not his first kill.”

“His method was too efficient for it to have been his first. He dumped the body in the manner he did because he wanted her found. He enjoys the fear, the upheaval. He left her bound and gagged as it maintains his dominance. You found no prints on the tape or body. He’s experienced enough to use gloves-and a condom. There’s control, there’s intelligence.

“He blends in,” Mason continued. “If he isn’t a local, he presents himself as a visitor, friendly but not too much.”

Sam nodded, nodded. “Nobody that causes a ruckus, argues with a shopkeeper, has too much to drink at a bar.”

“Exactly. Nothing about him sticks in anyone’s mind. He most certainly ate in that pizzeria. It’s likely his father was dominant, physically and emotionally, and his mother submissive. She took what was dished out. She did as she was told. This man has no respect for women, but can only dominate by force.

“The unfortunate reality is I will be able to tell you more if and when he dumps the next body.”

Sam blew out a breath. “So unless we get lucky and find him in a rental, nothing you have helps Donna.”

“If he sticks to the same schedule, he could kill her tonight, and leave her body somewhere in the open. I’m sorry.”

“How confident are you in this? Your boss says you’re good-good enough to be on the fast track for the BAU. I know what that is, I know what profiling is.”

Mason considered. “You’ve been married more than twenty years, and you still love your wife. You’ve got two kids who center your world. You played football in high school, and you enjoy the memory of those glory days. But they’re memories, and the now matters more. Your wife’s trying to get you on a healthier diet, and you’re going along with it. For now, anyway. You’ve got an organized and open mind, and this isn’t just your job. This is your town, your people, and protecting and serving aren’t just words. Your men like you. You run a tight ship, but not a constricting one.”

Mildly embarrassed, more than mildly impressed, Sam went back to his mug. “That’s accurate on short acquaintance. How do you get it?”

“You’re wearing a wedding ring, and there are pictures of your wife, your wife and kids, on the windowsill. Your kids are teenagers now, but you’ve got some of them still up from when they were younger. You’ve got a football trophy-MVP-but it’s not front and center. The softball and volleyball trophies-your kids’-are more prominently displayed. You’re drinking green tea, and you want coffee. There’s a yogurt bar in your inbox, and you don’t strike me as the health-bar type.”

“Who wouldn’t rather have a donut?”

“That goes without saying. Your deputy’s annoyed you’re meeting with me, but when you gave him the brushback, he didn’t sulk. He grinned. You agreed to meet with me because you’ll use any source that may help. You ran me and my sister, but you don’t consider us guilty by blood or association. Believe me, some would, some do.”

“Some are fuckheads.”

“Some are. You know the area, you know the people, and you don’t believe anyone from here killed Marla Roth or abducted Donna Lanier. I’m willing to weigh that opinion if you’re willing to weigh mine.”

“And I am. Why don’t you give me a few minutes? I’m going to work on getting those rentals checked outside the town limits, into the park. I’m going to make it twenty-five miles. Then I’ll take you to Donna’s, and the parking lot. We can walk around some. You get a better sense of a place walking it.”

“Good enough.” Mason rose. “Is that coffee still available?”

“Plenty of it in the break room.” Sam smiled. “Green tea, too.”

“I think I’ll hit you up for coffee.”

–

Back home, Naomi read Mason’s text.

“He says he’ll be a couple more hours. Are you sure you want me to go with you? I don’t want Loo to feel uncomfortable.”

“If it seems like she is, I’ll kick you out.”

“Tough, but fair.” She stepped back, looked at the scatter of pieces they’d carted up from the basement storage area. She hadn’t collected a great deal yet, and none of what she had belonged in this guest room.

But, for now, they made the space feel less empty.

“I can’t come up with a bed before tonight, but at least he’s got a chair-that needs to be reupholstered-a table, a lamp. And the walls look good. Bare, but clean and freshly painted.”

She turned to him, held out a hand. “Dog or no dog to Loo’s? Your call.”

“She’ll like the dog. She was nuts for Milo.”

“Good, because he has a comforting way. Just let me change and fix up a little, and we can go.”

“What for?” Since he had her hand he pulled her out of the room, headed for the steps. “We’re not going to a party.”

“I don’t have any makeup on.”

“You’re beautiful.”

He caught the wide-eyed, surprised blink, aimed her down the stairs. “What? You’ve got a mirror. You don’t need me telling you.”

“It’s nice to hear.”

“You don’t wear makeup most of the time anyway.”

“When I go out I try to make some minimal effort.”

Since the dog meant taking her car rather than his bike, he headed for that with Tag racing ahead of them in anticipation.

“I don’t even have my wallet.”

“I do. I’ll drive.” He opened the door for the dog, then got behind the wheel. “Huh, first time I remember getting in a seat after a woman and not having my knees hit my ears. You got legs, baby.” Still, he adjusted the seat back a couple of inches before he glanced over, saw her frowning at him. “What?”

“Have you ever in your life waited five minutes for a woman with shorter legs to get ready, grab her purse?”

“You hardly ever have a purse. I admire that.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve waited. Mostly I think women just like having guys wait. And the fact is, most of them could work a couple hours at it and not look like you. So why wait?”

She huffed, pulled on her seat belt. “That’s one hell of a compliment mixed in with amazing arrogance. I can’t decide whether to be seriously flattered or seriously annoyed on behalf of women everywhere.”

“Slim, you’re not like women everywhere.”

“I’m not sure what that means, but I think you consider it another compliment. In any case, give me a clear signal if I should leave you and Loo alone. Where does she live?”

“Over the bar. She has an apartment up there. Owns the building.”

“She owns the building?” Because she understood more pieces of him now, she took the leap. “The two of you own the building,” Naomi deduced.

“It’s an investment, and since she lives up there she doesn’t have a tenant-or we don’t-bitching about the noise from the bar. I don’t know what the hell to say to her.”

“You’ll know. You’ve got a way, too.”

“Yeah. Me and the dog.”

He parked, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he studied the building. “She’s in the bar. Lights are on down there, and we don’t open until four on Sundays.”

When he got out, she took the spare leash she stowed in the center box. But Xander came around, let the dog out before she could use it. She started to object, but Tag stood beside Xander, wagging and waiting.

“Isn’t there a leash law?”

“I think we’re safe for the next ten steps.” Digging in his pocket, Xander pulled out keys, unlocked the door.

Music blared out of the sound system, hard-driving rock with screaming guitars Naomi couldn’t identify. She’d never been in the bar in daylight or with the houselights on full. It looked bigger, she realized, especially with the chairs upended on the tables, the booths empty of patrons.

In snug cropped jeans and a black tank that showed off sculpted arms and shoulders, Loo attacked the floor with some sort of mop.

Because he was directly beside her, Naomi heard Xander mutter, “Shit,” before he strode to the bar, behind it, and turned down the music.

Loo snapped straight, hefting the mop like a bat-and lowered it again when she saw Xander.

“You’ll blow out your eardrums.”

“Rock’s meant to be loud.”

“Why are you down here doing Justin’s job?”

“Because I want it done right for a change. And why aren’t you up on the bluff trying to get into the blonde’s pants?”

“Because I brought her with me.”

Loo turned, caught sight of Naomi, and hissed out a tired breath. Before she could say anything else, Tag decided it was time for introductions and trotted over to her.

“Is this that half-dead dog you found?”

“Yeah.” Xander came from in back of the bar.

“Looks pretty healthy now. You’ve got some blue eyes, don’t you?” She gave him a rub. “Okay, nice of you to drop by, but I’ve got work to finish. I oughta close down for a week, get out the whips and chains, slap some ass, and get the crew to clean top to bottom. If you’re not on them every second, they’ll give these floors a swipe and consider it done.”

By the time she’d finished, her words tumbled together, rushed and breathless, with her arms pumping pistons on the mop.

Xander just stood for a moment, then dragged his hand through his hair. He walked to her, wrestled the mop away from her. Then just wrapped his arms around her.

“I need to finish! Damn it, I need to finish.”

“Come on, Loo.”

She struggled and shoved against him another moment, then gripped the back of his shirt in her fists. “Xander. I’m so scared. Donna. Where is she? What’s happening to her? How can this be happening?”

When she began to weep, he just held on.

Twenty-three

Not sure of her role, Naomi decided to make herself useful. Quietly, she went behind the bar, studied the hot beverage machine. She checked its supplies, opted for coffee because Loo didn’t strike her as the tea sort.

She found mugs, kept herself busy as Loo composed herself.

“I don’t know what to do,” Loo said. “I need something to do.”

“Right now, we’re going to sit down.”

As Xander steered Loo to a booth, Naomi called out, “I’m making coffee.”

Swiping at tears, Loo spun around. “That machine’s complicated,” she began.

“She practically grew up in a restaurant, Loo. Sit down.”

“She breaks it, you bought it,” Loo muttered. “And I’d rather have a whiskey.”

“Irish coffee, then,” Naomi said easily. “Xander?”

“Just a Coke.”

As she sat, Loo snatched napkins from the holder, blew her nose. “They don’t know dick. Sam came around here last night on the off chance she’d decided to stay home, was with me. Nobody knows squat about it, nobody’s seen her, heard from her.”

“I know, Loo.”

The dog worked his way under the table, laid his head in Loo’s lap.

He did have a way.

“She’d been talking about this trip for weeks-until you wanted to stuff a sock in her mouth. She tried to get me to go, nagged me brainless. I’ve got nothing against a couple days at a spa, but her sister’s a pain in the ass. If I’d said I’d go with her, if I’d been with her…”

“That’s bullshit, Loo.”

“It’s not.” Her eyes filled to brimming again. “It’s not! I’d’ve gone over there, picked her up.”

“And maybe you’d be the one no one’s seen or heard from.”

“That’s the bullshit.” After she swiped at the tears, she balled up the napkins. “I can handle myself. Donna… She’s just soft. She’s soft.”

Naomi came to the table with a glass mug of Irish coffee, expertly topped with whipped cream, and a glass of Coke.

“I’ll take the dog for a walk, give the two of you some privacy.”

“The dog’s fine right here.” Loo stroked Tag’s ears as she studied Naomi. “And so are you. Sorry about the in-your-pants remark. It was rude.”

“Well, he’s been in them a few times, so not entirely.”

Loo let out a bark of laughter, then went watery at the edges. “You’re fine here, too. Get a drink, sit down.”

“All right. I’m going to say something first. The only blame is on the person who took her. We can always say if I’d done this, or hadn’t done that, but it doesn’t change what is. The only person who could change what is, is the one who took her.”

While Loo stared into her coffee, Naomi went to get herself a Coke.

“She’s my closest friend,” Loo said quietly. “Since high school. We didn’t have a thing in common, but we just got to be friends anyway. I stood up for her when she married that asshole, just like she stood up for me when I married Johnny. And when he died, I don’t know how I’d have gotten through it without her.”

She sighed, sniffled. “And she told me not to marry Dikes. But when I did, she stood up for me again.”

She sampled the coffee, arched eyebrows at Naomi. “This is damn good Irish coffee.”

“I learned from the master.” She slid into the booth beside Xander. “I don’t know if it helps, but my brother’s here, and meeting with Chief Winston right now. He’s with the FBI.”

“Sam called the FBI?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know who called who-it got lost in translation-but we’ve got an FBI agent helping look for her.”

“He’s had her-whoever the bastard is-since Friday night. Word’s gotten out on what was done to Marla. Donna…”

Reaching over, Xander closed a hand over hers. “Don’t do that, Loo. We’ll go crazy if we do that.”

“I drove all over hell and back last night. Just driving the road, looking for her, for… something. With my baseball bat and my.32.”

“Jesus, Loo. You should’ve called me.”

“I nearly did.” She turned her hand over, linked her fingers with his. “Who else do I call when I hit a wall? Not that I often hit one I can’t bust through on my own. You’ll find that out if you stick with this one,” she said to Naomi. “If you hit that wall or your back’s to one, you want this one with you.”

“Come on, Loo.”

“She should know you’re not just a pretty face.”

“I’ve seen prettier. I’ve had prettier,” Naomi added, and earned that bark of laughter as she’d hoped. “You need some art on the walls in here, Loo.”

“It’s a bar.”

“It’s a good bar. I’m not talking frilly, fussy, fern-bar art. There’s one coming in of the Wreckers-they have to buy that from me. But I’ve got one of Xander and Tag, a sunrise silhouette that I punched up so their blue eyes stand out. It’d work in here, and I’ll give it to you if you like it. It’d be exposure for me.”

“You’re not going to put me up on the wall.”

Loo arched those eyebrows again. “I will if I like it. It’s my bar.”

“It’s half mine.”

“So I’ll hang it in my half.” She gave his hand a squeeze, then a light slap, then went back to her coffee. “You’ve settled my nerves, both of you, and I’m grateful.”

“You should get out of here. We’ll go have lunch or something.”

Smiling a little, Loo shook her head at Xander. “When I’m this worked up I clean, but I’ll finish up here calmer than I was. If you hear anything from your brother, anything about where she is, you need to let me know.”

“I will.”

“All right. Go on now, and take this dog before I end up keeping him for myself. I’m all right now.”

“If you need me for anything, you call me.”

“I will. I’m going to hope I hear they found her, and she’s okay. I’m going to hold on to that.”

When they left her, she’d gone back to her mopping.

–

Since she’d decided to believe Mason would stay at least overnight, Naomi had Xander take her by the market-grateful they had limited Sunday hours. She picked up what she needed for one of his favorite meals.

Every local in the market had something to say about Donna, or would stop Xander to ask what he knew. She didn’t take a clear, easy breath until they were outside again.

“I should’ve known that, and made do with what I had at home.” She sat back in the seat, stomach knotted, headache brewing. “And it had to be harder on you than me. All the talk,” she added. “The questions, the speculation.”

“Everyone who lives here knows her, so they’re worried.”

“Maybe Mason will have something, anything, to add. I know he’s my brother, Xander, but he really is ridiculously smart. He notices everything, forgets nothing, and he’s studied for what he’s doing since he was a kid. I caught him once-he wasn’t quite fast enough to block my view of what he was looking at on his computer. Serial killers. I was so mad, so outraged that he’d do that, read about them. He just said he needed to know; the more he knew, the better he could deal with it.”

“It sounds right to me.”

“It didn’t to me. Why couldn’t we just be normal, live like everybody else? I was doing everything I could to be like everybody else, going to football games, working on the yearbook committee and the school newspaper, meeting friends for pizza, and he’s studying the pathology of serial killers, thrill killers, spree killers. Victimology and forensic countermeasures.”

“It sounds like you’ve read some yourself.”

“Some because he was determined to make it his life’s work, but… He’s gone back to West Virginia. He’s gone to see our father in prison. More than once.”

“That bothers you.”

“It did. Maybe it still does, a little, but I had to accept he wasn’t going to put it behind him.”

Better than therapy, she realized. Better this talking to a… friend wasn’t quite right, and yet he was. He was her friend. It soothed rather than stirred to say what was in her mind and heart to someone who stood as her friend.

“Mason? He confronts it, and tries to understand it, so he can stop the next. I know that, and can still wish he’d found another way to save lives. Become a doctor-another kind of doctor.”

“Has he saved lives?”

“He has. Did you hear about that man who was taking young boys-in Virginia? He’d taken five over a three-year period, killed two of them and dumped their bodies in a wooded area along a hiking trail.”

“They called him the Appalachian Killer.”

“Mason hates it when the press gives them names. But yes. He was part of the team that identified him, tracked him, stopped him, and saved the lives of the three boys he had locked in his basement. He saves lives, and to do it, he needs to understand the kind of mind that would take young boys, torture them, keep them caged up like animals, then kill them.”

When Xander pulled up at the house, she got out. “I’m proud of him, so I have to accept that he lives a lot of his life in a dark place.”

“Or he lives a lot of his life tearing down those dark places.”

She’d reached for a market bag, stopped. “He does, doesn’t he? And I should learn to turn it that way.”

When they carried the groceries inside and to the kitchen, she got out a bottle of wine.

“I’m about to start some major cooking. Cleaning can work, but I lean toward cooking when I’m upset or stressed.”

“Lucky me. I was going to head out when your brother got here, give you guys some catch-up time. But you bought pork chops.”

“You bought them,” she corrected. “And everything else in these bags.”

“You have to contribute. I like pork chops.”

“Do you like stuffed pork chops, Mediterranean-style?”

“Probably.”

“Good, because that’s what we’re having, along with roasted herbed potatoes, sautéed asparagus, pretzel bread, and vanilla bean crème brûlée.”

He wasn’t sure he realized crème brûlée existed outside restaurants. “I’m definitely staying for dinner.”

“Then I suggest you clear out.”

“Give me a job.”

“A kitchen job?”

“Definitely not a kitchen job.”

He needed to work off the worry, too, she thought.

“Cecil’s holding a table and four chairs-so far-for me. I was going to have Kevin pick them up, take them to Jenny, but if you brought them here, just cleaned them up, we’d have an actual table to eat this magnificent meal on. And don’t say you don’t want to leave me here alone,” she added before he could. “I have the dog, I have an alarm system, and an excellent set of Japanese kitchen knives.”

“You’ll keep the doors locked until I get back-or Mason does.”

“It pains me as it’s a gorgeous day and I’d like the doors open, but for a dining room table, I’ll keep them locked.”

“Keep your phone on you.”

“I’ll keep my phone on me. Do you know how to lower the backseats in my car for the cargo area?”

“I’m a mechanic, Naomi. I think I can handle it. Let Cecil know I’m coming. It’ll save time.”

He hauled her in for a kiss, then pointed a finger at the dog. “You’re on duty.”

Naomi made the call, shoved the phone in her back pocket, then rubbed her hands together.

“Let’s get cooking.”

With the dog occupied with a rawhide bone, she focused in. It cleared her mind, pushed the terrible thoughts and worries away. The process, the textures, the scents and colors.

She had dough rising, potatoes in the oven, and the crème brûlée nearly ready to go into oven two when the dog scrambled up.

Maybe her heart tripped at first, maybe she glanced at the chef’s knife on her cutting board, but she ordered herself to keep to the task at hand.

And was rewarded when she saw Xander haul chairs onto the back deck.

Swiping her hands on the dish towel tucked into her waistband, she walked over to at least open the doors.

“He swore-I almost made him take a blood oath-these were the chairs you wanted.”

“That’s right.”

Xander looked at them-scowled at them. The faded, ripped, ugly patterned seats, the scuffed wood. “Why?”

“They’re going to be adorable.”

“How?”

“Reupholstered with this fabric I’ve picked out, painted. The ladderbacks a slatey blue, the armchairs a sagey green.”

“You’re going to paint them?”

“Jenny is. I’ve retired. They can be ugly until she takes them. I’ve got rags and wood cleaner. We can make them presentable for one meal.”

“They look like presentable kindling to me, but it’s your deal.”

“What about the table?”

“I get the table-needs a little work, but it’s a good piece.”

“I meant do you need help getting it out of the car?”

“Eventually.” Clearly unconvinced, he gave the chairs a final frown. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll get what you need.”

She got the supplies out of the laundry room, filled a bucket with water, carted it out in time to see him coming back up the steps behind a forest of lilacs in a tall cobalt blue pitcher.

“There.” He set them on the table on the deck. “I brought you flowers and something to put them in.”

Staggered, she stared at them, at him. “I…”

“I stole the flowers, but I bought the pitcher.”

“It’s-they’re… They’re perfect. Thank you.”

He stood there, scruffy, scowling at the chairs he obviously considered a waste of time and money-and she had to swallow, twice.

“This better be some dinner.” After taking one of the rags from her, he dropped it in the bucket. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’ve just got things going inside.”

“Go on, deal with that. I’ll clean up these butt-ugly chairs.”

She went inside, grabbed the wine on the way and took it with her straight to the powder room-the one that still needed lights, new fixtures, and a towel bar.

Her heart was tripping again. In fact it was tripping, stumbling, staggering all at the same time. Not a sensation she’d ever experienced before. Not a panic attack-not exactly, though she definitely felt considerable panic.

He’d walked up the steps with lilacs in a blue pitcher, set them down unceremoniously. Stolen flowers in an old pitcher, carried in big, callused hands.

And she’d fallen in love.

It couldn’t be that fast. It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t be.

But it was. She didn’t have to have felt it all before to know what tripped and stumbled inside her.

She breathed in, breathed out, took a good glug of wine.

What happened next?

Nothing had to happen next, she assured herself. Everything just continued, it just kept going until… something. But right now, nothing happened.

She had pork chops to stuff.

She heard him laughing, talking to the dog out on the deck. She saw the lilacs-so lush, so sweet. And had to press the heel of her hand to her heart, order it to behave.

But she pulled out her phone, angled herself, and took several shots of the flowers.

By the time she began making the stuffing, she heard Mason’s voice and, glancing up, saw him step onto the deck from the stairs.

Xander moved into the opening. “We’ll get the table. The chairs are clean, but they’re still ugly.”

“Their charm is simply yet to be released.”

“Whatever. I’m going to want that food once we get the table up. It smells good.”

“Food’s an hour off.”

“That’ll do.”

While she finished the stuffing, they hauled up the farmhouse table. Mason stepped in.

“Are those… stuffed pork chops!”

“I know how to soften you up.”

He kissed her cheeks. “Thanks. Why did you buy such crappy chairs?”

“They won’t be crappy when they’re fixed.”

“If you say so. I like the table. Is that barn wood?”

“It is.”

“Built to last.”

She finished stuffing the chops, slid them into the oven, and stepped out on the deck. “Oh, look how the cleaner brings out the grain. It just needed some tending.”

“It’s got some dings and scratches,” Xander told her.

“It’s called character. And Jenny said she could fix anything that needed fixing. I don’t want to spoil anything, Mason, but I thought if we could talk about what you did, found out, think since meeting with Chief Winston, we wouldn’t have it hanging over us at dinner.”

He gave her a long look, then nodded. “I can’t tell you much you don’t already know. All indications are Donna Lanier was abducted from the parking lot shortly before midnight on Friday. Her car was locked, hasn’t been moved since she parked it when she came on shift at four. Three other employees worked until closing. One, Maxie Upton, came out the back of the building alone a few minutes before Donna, Gina Barrows, and Brennan Forrester. Routinely Maxie parks in that same section of the lot, as most employees do, but her car was in the shop. Yours,” he said to Xander.

“Yeah, she drove in on a flat just after I closed, and had four tires as bald as my uncle Jim. I wasn’t going to let her drive around on them, made her a deal. I’d work the price of the tires down, take her to work-and she’d call her father to pick her up. She was going to walk, and after what happened to Marla, I wasn’t having her walking home or to a friend’s alone at midnight.”

“She’s lucky you provide such personal customer service.”

“I’ve known her since she was…” Xander straightened from his slouch against the rail. “Are you saying he was looking to take her? Was waiting for Maxie to walk to her car?”

“It’s possible. I lean toward probable. She’s younger, blonde, more like the first victim physically than Donna. I talked to her when Chief Winston did a follow-up. Her father wasn’t waiting when she came out, and she was alone out there for about twenty seconds-and now says she got nervous, thought about going back in. She thought it was because you’d spooked her about not walking, not being alone. Then her father came, and she didn’t think any more about it.”

“You said Donna came out with Gina and Brennan.”

“Just after Maxie’s father picked her up. And they walked off together-they’re in a relationship-leaving Donna locking up.”

“He took Donna because she was there?” Naomi asked.

“There’s a reason we don’t consider a serial until there are three like crimes.”

“Mason.”

“But I believe the same person took Donna. I believe he’s an opportunist-he saw an opportunity with Marla Roth, took it. He saw one with Donna, took it. At the same time he was in that lot or close by, he was most certainly lying in wait, which tells me he’d observed the routine of that restaurant, and I believe he’d probably selected his target. Circumstances caused him to miss that opportunity. He took the next.”

“Christ.” Xander turned away, stared hard out over the water.

“There’s a young woman, and her parents, who are never going to forget a set of bald tires or the man who demanded a promise. Chief Winston has already looked into like crimes, but I’m going to look again, narrowing the parameters, and adding in missings. He has deputies, and rangers, checking rental houses and cabins within a twenty-five-mile radius.”

“Because he needs a place,” Naomi stated.

Like a cellar, an old root cellar deep in the woods.

“Yeah. I’m not discounting a local, but I respect Winston’s firm opinion that this is an outsider-and the low crime rate helps support it. Still, he’ll take a harder look at individuals in the area.”

“No one believes it’s someone they know, someone they’re close to,” Naomi said. “Until it is.”

“He’s a good cop. Smart, thorough, and not so territorial he won’t take help from outside. He’s doing all he can do. For now, I can help him do more. I reached out to one of our geeks, and he’s getting names on the rentals-owners, tenants. We’ll run those in addition to the knock-on-doors. I’m sorry. I wish there were more.”

“You came.” Naomi went to him, put her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. “That’s more. You’ll stay a few days?”

“Tonight, at least. Maybe tomorrow. I want to get out of this suit. I’ve got a bag in the car, if you tell me where I’m bunking.”

“It’s not much more than bunking now. A real bed next visit, I swear. Let’s get your bag, and I’ll show you.” She glanced at Xander. “I’ll be right back, help you get the table inside.”

Alone, Xander looked out at the water, into oncoming evening. Her brother agreed to stay the night, he thought, because he expected to find a body in the morning.

–

After the meal, and the fancy coffee Naomi made in her fancy machine, Xander rose. “I’m going to go on.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve got stuff. I’ve got stuff.” And with an FBI agent sleeping down the hall, she’d be safe. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, but-”

He just pulled her to her feet, and into a hard, hot kiss. Maybe it was a little like marking his territory, with her brother right there, but he wasn’t sorry about it.

“Thanks for dinner. Later,” he said to Mason, and walked out.

“He didn’t have to leave on my account,” Mason began. “My sharp deduction skills ascertained he’s sleeping here.”

“He wanted to give us time alone, and he wants to go be with Loo. His business partner. She and Donna are close friends.” Automatically, she began clearing dishes.

“Sit down a minute. Just for a minute,” Mason said, taking her hand. “I’ve got to ask. How serious is it with you and the mechanic?”

“You say that like he doesn’t have a name.”

“I’m working on it. Give me some room. My vagabond hermit of a sister suddenly has a big house in the middle of rehab, has a dog, and is sleeping with a guy I just met. It’s a lot in a short time.”

“It doesn’t feel as short when you’re in it. I’m not going to get all”-she circled her index fingers in the air-“and say I recognized the house. But I recognized the potential of it, and its potential for me. I didn’t know I was ready to plant until I saw it, then I was ready. The dog wasn’t going to happen, and then he did. Now I can’t imagine not having him around.”

“He’s a great dog.”

Even more, she thought, he’d become her family. “I’d have taken him to the shelter if Xander hadn’t blocked me, every time.”

“Why didn’t he take the dog?”

“He just lost his.”

“Ah.” Mason nodded, understanding completely. “You haven’t answered the actual question. We call that deflection.”

“I’m not deflecting, I’m working up to it. It’s more serious than I planned. More serious than I thought I’d want, and more serious than I’m sure I can handle. But he’s…”

She wasn’t sure she could explain it, to him or to herself.

“He makes me feel more than I thought I ever could or would. He figured out who I was. He had Simon Vance’s book on his wall of books-you have to see that wall of books. I have pictures.”

“Check out my shocked face,” Mason said, and made her laugh.

“Anyway. Apparently I didn’t hide my reaction to seeing Vance’s book as well as I thought, and Xander figured it out. But, Mason, he didn’t say anything to me, or change toward me. He didn’t tell anyone, even his closest friend. Do you know what that means to me?”

“Yeah.” Now Mason covered her hand with his. “And it goes a long way for me deciding he has a name. I liked him, and I know that matters to you. And I’m going to be up-front because you matter and tell you I ran him.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

“You’re my sister, you’re my family. And we share something most don’t, most can’t understand, and shouldn’t. I had to do it, Naomi. A couple of bumps in his late teens, early twenties, if you care.”

“Which I don’t.”

He rolled over that. “Disturbing the peace, destruction of property-bar fight that reads like he didn’t start it, but sure as hell finished it. No time-plenty of speeding tickets up until he hit about twenty-five. And that’s it. I’m going to add I feel better knowing he had a couple of bumps, got them out of his system. I like knowing he can finish a fight. No marriages or divorces, no children on record. He’s sole owner of the garage, half owner of the bar, and half owner of the building that holds the bar and an apartment. Winston thinks highly of him.”

“Are you done now?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now we’re going to get these dishes done, FaceTime the uncles, then you get the grand tour.”

“Okay. I’ve got one more thing, but I’m really done. Does he make you happy?”

“He does, and that was a shock to the system. And he makes me, or helps me, think beyond the moment. I’d gotten too much in the habit of only right now. I like thinking about tomorrow.”

“Then I may start calling him Xander. But what kind of name is that anyway?”

“Really, Mason Jar?”

“Shut up,” he said, and pushed away from the table to help her clear.

–

He waited until just after two in the morning to drive the quiet roads to the woods near the bluff. He parked on the shoulder.

Maybe they had patrols out at this hour, looking for the likes of him. But in his considerable experience it was far too early in the game for it, considering the two-bit town and half-ass police force.

And this wouldn’t take long.

He had her wrapped in a standard sheet of plastic. Trial and error had proven this method worked best. He had to put some muscle into hauling her out and up over his shoulder-fireman’s carry. He took some pride in being stronger than he looked, but she was a heftier package than he preferred.

All in all she’d been a disappointment. No fight or sass in her, not after the first couple hours anyway. It just cut into his fun when they didn’t try to scream or beg, when they stopped fighting, and she’d gone downhill so fast he’d nearly killed her out of sheer boredom.

Too much like that scrawny old bitch he’d grabbed up in godforsaken Kansas when he couldn’t get the one he’d had his eye on.

Or that fat-ass in Louisville. Or-

No point in dwelling on past mistakes, he assured himself as he shifted the dead weight on his shoulder and used the hunter’s light on his hat to light the track.

He just had to stop repeating them, remember patience was a virtue.

He’d already scoped his ground, using Naomi’s website pictures as a guide, and gratefully dropped Donna’s body between the track and a nurse log. With practiced moves, he rolled it out of the plastic, studied it while he folded the sheet to take with him.

Waste not, want not.

He took out his phone, switched to camera mode, and took his last souvenir pictures of Donna Lanier.

Then he walked away without giving the woman he’d killed another thought. She was the past, and he had his path set for the future.

He cruised the road just far enough to bring the house on the bluff, its spreading silhouette against a starstruck sky, into view.

Sleep well, Naomi, he thought. Rest up. I’ll be seeing you soon, and we’re going to have some fun.

Twenty-four

A young couple from Spokane, with a baby in a backpack, found the body on a nature hike on Monday’s sparkling afternoon.

Within minutes, Sam Winston stood over the body of a woman he’d known for three decades, and had liked every day of them.

Minutes later, Mason made his way through the woods to join him.

“I had to hope it wouldn’t end this way.”

“I’m sorry, very sorry, for your loss, Chief.”

“She’s everyone’s loss. Well.” Determined to do his best for her, Sam rubbed his hands over his face, shook it off. “Bound and gagged, naked, like Marla. Wounds are worse-he cut and beat her more severely.”

“He may be escalating. Or… it may be frustration that she wasn’t his first choice.”

“He brushed out any footprints-you can see how he stirred up the dirt, the layer of pine needles. So he’s careful. He had to carry her to this spot, most likely from the road-down the track. She’s easily one-fifty, so he’s got some muscle.”

Careful to touch nothing, disturb nothing, Mason crouched down, studied the wounds, the position of the body.

“She’s not posed, no attempt to cover or bury her. No remorse, nothing symbolic. He was simply finished, and dumped the body here, walked away.”

“She didn’t mean anything to him.”

“No. The first victim, she was laid out differently-the way her arms reached out. And he left her shoes. She was more important-may be a surrogate. Younger, blonde, attractive, slim.”

“Like Maxie would’ve been.”

“Yes. We’re not that far from my sister’s house. Is this trail popular?”

“It gets some use, yeah. A little farther west, toward the park, into the park, you get more hikers, but this area gets visitors pretty regularly. He wanted her found, and directly.”

“I agree. Do you mind if I take some pictures?”

“Go ahead. We’ll be taking our own-I wanted a minute with her first.”

And, Sam could admit to himself, had to resist the gnawing urge to cover her. Once again, he shook it off.

“My deputy back on the road, you probably saw him, is getting the statements from the couple who found her. They’ve got a three-month-old baby with them. Their first vacation as a family.” Sam sighed out air. “They won’t forget it.”

He looked into the woods, into the green deepening as spring slid toward summer. “We’ll get this taped off, do what we do, and do what we can. And once we do that here, I’ll go see her sister, her daughter.”

“Do you want me to go with you for the notifications?”

“I appreciate the offer, but they know me. It’ll be a little easier, as much as it can be, from somebody they know.”

–

Naomi understood a process came with death, and with murder that process became official. But she wouldn’t let Xander hear about his friend through a process.

She didn’t see him through the main opening of the garage, so she walked inside the noise, saw one of his crew plugging coins in the soda machine.

“Is Xander around?”

“Yeah, sure. Back in the machine shop-straight back, to the right. Can’t miss.”

“Thanks.”

She picked her way through, found she couldn’t miss.

He sat on a stool behind an engine on a stand, a wrench in his grease-smeared hands.

“Bearings shot to shit, crankshaft shot to shit.”

He took off another part, scowled at it, tossed it into a plastic tray with a dismissing thump. “Wonders why it’s got rod knock.”

“Xander.”

She spoke quietly, but he heard her voice over the clanging, the thumping, the music. And the instant he saw her face, grief clouded his eyes.

“Ah, hell.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She started toward him, hands out, but he shoved back on the stool and held his own up. “Don’t. I’ve got grease all over me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” With sharp, angry moves, he snatched up a rag, rubbed it over his forearms, his hands. Tossed it down again, walked to a small, wall-hung sink that had seen its share of action.

With his back to her, he poured some sort of powder on his hands, dry-scrubbed them with a brush. “Where did they find her?”

“I’m not sure, I’m sorry. I just know the chief called Mason about a half hour ago and said they had. In a wooded area, was all he’d say. He was in a hurry to get there. I didn’t want you to hear-just hear.”

He nodded, kept scrubbing. “I knew it last night. If they hadn’t found her by last night… but until they do, you have to figure there’s a chance.”

He worked the powder up to his forearms, then turned on the water. “I need to tell Loo.”

Not the process, not procedure. And the hell with that. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“Not this time.”

He yanked paper towels out of a wall unit, dried off, tossed them in a big, widemouthed trash can.

“They have to notify her next of kin. I don’t know how long before they can.”

“Loo won’t want to talk to anybody. She won’t get in the way of that.”

“I’m so sorry, Xander. I wish there were something I could do.”

“You did it. You came to tell me.”

When she stepped toward him again, he looked at his hands.

“They’re clean enough,” she said, and moved into him.

“I guess they’ll do.” He got a grip on her, a tight one, held her in silence while the workday banged around them.

“Stay with Loo as long as you need, as long as she needs. But would you let me know if you’re staying in town?”

“I’ll be coming out, but I don’t know when. If Kevin and the crew leave before I get there, before your brother gets back, stay home.” He drew her away. “Stay inside, and lock everything. Tell me you’ll do that.”

“I will. Don’t worry about me, just take care of Loo.”

“I’ll do that. I have to deal with some things here, get some coverage, then I’ll do that.”

When she got home she closed herself in her temporary office so she didn’t have to talk to Kevin or any of the crew, so they couldn’t sense what she knew.

Time dragged while she tried to lose herself in work. Feeling closed in, restless, she gave it up and took the dog out in the narrow backyard, thrilled him with a session of fetch the ball.

She saw Kevin start down the deck steps, and the expression on his face told her the news had gotten out.

“Xander called me. Ah, he said he’d be here within the hour, and look, Naomi, I’m staying until he gets here, or your brother does. I’ll sit out in the damn truck if you-”

She went with instinct, stepped up to hug him.

“What the hell’s happening? Jenny’s got a couple of neighbors and their kids over at the house so I don’t have to worry about her being alone. We’ve never had to worry. Donna-God, Donna, of all people. I can’t get ahold of it.”

“I know. I know.”

“He said Loo’s pretty steady now, and she’s going over to Donna’s house. Her-Donna’s-sister and daughter, and the family, I guess, are there. He had to make her swear she’d get the sister’s husband to take her home, make sure she’s inside and locked up. We never had to think about doing that. It’s always been safe here. My kids can go all over the neighborhood and you never worry.”

“I’ll go inside.” She stepped back. “I’ll go inside, lock the doors. You need to go home, you need to be with your family.”

His face went hard. “I’m staying. Until Xander gets here, I’m staying. Jenny’s with a dozen people.”

“Then let’s go up, sit down.”

“He said it was like Marla.” Now that hardness faded into grief. “Word’s going around.” With the dog between them, they started back to the house. “On a Friday night, too, the same as Marla. He dumped her over there.”

“Over…” She shuddered when he gestured toward the forest she thought of as her own.

“Just west of the bluff. You can’t go walking there on your own anymore, Naomi.” A friend, a brother, he grabbed her hand. “You can’t do that. Not until they find him.”

“I won’t, don’t worry. Sit down.”

In her forest, she thought. At the foot of her bluff, and in her forest.

Because it was remote, she told herself. Because he could slip through the dark with no one to see. That was all it was, and what it was, was bad enough.

She sat in the chair beside him.

“Your studio’s nearly finished,” he told her, and threw her off balance. “After tomorrow, day after latest, you can set it up.”

They’d talk of something else, she realized, of anything else but the unthinkable.

“Can’t wait.”

“We’ll get the desk, the equipment in there for you. A couple more weeks, we’re going to be out of here. Well, three. We should be out in three.”

“You’ve brought the house back to life, Kevin.”

“We have,” he said just before the dog leaped up and raced off the deck.

“Xander,” Naomi told him. “He just knows-the way the bike sounds, I guess. He doesn’t bark anymore when it’s Xander.”

“He’s nuts about you, you know-Xander. So’s the dog, but I’m talking about Xander, who’d kick my ass for saying it, but I need something good to balance things out. I’ve never seen him nuts about anybody.”

“Nobody?”

Shaking his head, Kevin smiled a little. “You’re the first.”

She got up and went to meet Xander as he came up the steps with the dog.

“Thanks.”

“How’s Loo?” she asked.

“She took it hard. Really hard.” Looking exhausted, he blew out a breath. “But she pulled it together, talked to Donna’s daughter. She’s over there now. Did you hear from your brother?”

“No, and I’ve had to stop myself from texting him a dozen times. He’ll tell us what he can when he can.”

“Would you let me know if there’s anything?” Kevin pushed to his feet. “It feels like if you just knew something it would start to make sense. I’m going to go on, get home. Keep this one close, Xan.”

“I intend to. Same for Jenny.”

He sat when Kevin left. “Her daughter-you don’t know her-she’s inconsolable. I wasn’t doing any good over there, so I got out of the way. She and Loo are better off huddling up together.”

“Kevin said she was found in the forest-over there.”

Eyes hard, Xander nodded. “Somewhere in that area-and too damn close to here. Like Marla.”

“Likely for the same reason. It’s out of town, hardly any houses, hardly any traffic on the road, or the water depending on how he comes in.”

“That’s probably what it is, all it is. But if what Mason said has weight, and if Maxie was the actual target, he has a type. Right? Young, blonde, attractive, slender. You’re all of that.”

“And I can promise you I know better than any young blonde woman in this town how to take care of myself. I can promise you, Xander, not to take unnecessary chances, and to take sensible precautions. I’ll also point out that both women he killed lived or worked in town. I think he must stalk them, or at least watch their routines. I don’t have a routine-and you have enough on your mind without worrying about me.”

“Nothing that’s on my mind is more important than you.”

He turned to her, took her breath away with one long, steady stare.

And once again, the dog raced off the deck, this time leading with a bark.

“It’s probably Mason.” She laid a hand on Xander’s tensed arm. “This son of a bitch comes at women in the dark, and I’ll bet from behind like a coward. He doesn’t walk up to them in the daylight.”

“You’re right. I’m edgy.”

He relaxed a little when Mason rounded the house with Tag.

“I have to make a couple calls. I’ll be down when I’m done and tell you what I can. Xander, I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Yeah, we all are.”

“I’m going to see what I have to throw together for dinner,” she told Xander.

“I can call in for pizza or whatever. You don’t have to cook.”

“I’m edgy, too. Cooking helps.”

“Have you thought about getting a grill? I can grill-you know, steaks, chops, even fish.” He shrugged when she stopped at the opening. “Give you a hand with meals sometime.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve been looking at grills online.”

“You can’t buy a grill online.” Sincerely appalled, he stared at her-with some pity. “You have to see it, and-”

“Stroke it?” She offered a bright smile. “Speak to it?”

Appalled pity turned on a dime to a cool disdain that made her want to laugh. “You have to see it,” he repeated.

She made a humming sound, then went in to check her supplies and formulate a menu.

Moments later, he came in, grabbed a beer, sat at the counter. “I’m buying the grill.”

“What?”

“I said I’m buying the grill.”

Sauté some chicken breasts, she thought. Garlic, herbs, wine. Distracted, she turned to him. “The grill? Seriously, Xander.”

“Grills are serious.”

Now she did laugh. “I’d be the last one to say any cooking appliance or tool isn’t serious, which is why I’ve been researching and eliminating and considering online.”

“Have you ever bought a grill before?”

“No, but-”

“I’ll take care of it.”

It occurred to her he was thinking, and feeling, something other than grief. So she stretched it out. “You don’t know the features I want, the brand, the size. We’re having chicken, rice, mixed vegetables,” she decided.

“You don’t buy a grill online any more than you buy a car online.”

Because she felt better herself, she took another poke. “Have you ever bought a grill?”

“Kevin has, twice, and I was with him both times. It’s the same thing.”

She began to assemble her ingredients. “Well, there’s plenty of time to decide before summer.”

“There’s your first wrong turn-well, second since the whole online deal. You get the right grill, you use it year-round, especially when you can put it right outside the kitchen like you can here.”

She got a pot for the rice, put it on the stove, then came to the counter so she could face him while she minced garlic. “I had no idea you were so serious about outdoor grills. The things you learn.”

“I’m buying the grill.”

They’d see about that.

“Do you know how to peel carrots?”

Frowning, he took a slow sip of beer. “Probably.”

She pulled carrots out of the fridge, got a peeler, pushed them to his side of the counter. “Good, peel these.”

“I thought you scraped them off with a knife.”

It was her turn for pity. “Sure, if you want to take all day and make a mess out of it. You just…” She picked up a carrot and peeler and demonstrated.

“Okay, okay. I’ve got it.”

Mason came back in to see Xander with a small pile of carrot peels, scowling at the carrot he worked on stripping. And his sister at the stove sautéing garlic.

Pretty homey, he thought. Maybe Xander looked out of his milieu, but altogether, pretty homey.

“Mason, do you remember how to floret a cauliflower?”

“Um-”

“Sure you do.”

She handed him a knife, set the head on a cutting board.

“I don’t even like cauliflower.” But he sat, comfortable now in an old Harvard Crimson T-shirt and jeans, and picked up the knife.

“You do when it’s disguised with butter and herbs. It’s nice,” she said, “having line cooks.”

“It’s like home.” Mason cut away the thick stem, sliced through the core from the bottom, pulled the head into two halves. “Back in New York, only you’re head chef instead of Harry.”

“When they get here, I’ll abdicate, but only after he lets me show off. That gives me a couple of weeks to devise a show-off menu, outfit guest rooms, and hope Jenny can redo those dining room chairs.” She added chicken to the pan with a satisfying sizzle.

“I’m going to try to be here. I should be able to work out of the Seattle office temporarily.”

After a long beat of silence, Mason set the knife aside, picked up his wine. “Okay. I’m going to lay this out for you-as much as I can. While the ME will determine, it’s clear from the on-scene examination and the evidence gathered that Donna Lanier was abducted and killed by the same unsub as Marla Roth. You don’t need the details,” he added, and went back to the knife. “It’s my strong belief, shared by Chief Winston, that Lanier wasn’t his first choice. She was simply there. As with the first victim, she was held and killed at another location, then transported and dumped where she would be found quickly. He wants us to know he’s here, he’s hunting. He’s arrogant, enjoys both the attention and the fear he’s generating. He’s intelligent, organized, experienced.”

“You mean he’s done this before,” Naomi replied. “That’s what you mean by experienced.”

“Yeah. It’s unlikely a coincidence he took both victims on a Friday night, held them until Sunday. We can speculate he has his weekends free or has the privacy he needs during that time period.”

“You still think he lives here.” Xander finished the last carrot, waited for a reply.

“I can’t eliminate someone who lives in town, works in town, or works or lives in the area.”

“Why?” Xander demanded. “We haven’t had any rapes or murders, nothing like this around here before.”

“He may not have brought it home before. He may have taken a hitchhiker, a hiker, someone passing through, and buried or concealed the body. He may recently have acquired, through purchase, inheritance, divorce, a place he can use to do his work. So far, most of the rentals have been checked and eliminated. We’re also checking on seasonal workers, tenants, new residents, vacationers who’ve been in the area since the first victim was abducted. I’ll continue to research and analyze like crimes. If I find a pattern, if I find more, we’ll have the full resources of the FBI on this.

“I’ve asked a contact I have at the BAU to look over the files, to check my profile, to see if I’m on the right track or if I’ve gone wrong. But whether or not the unsub lives and works here or happened upon this location, he’s still here. It’s gone too well for him to move on.”

“Naomi fits his type.”

“Xander.” Annoyed, she turned the chicken.

“Yes, she does. I believe he has a type, and Naomi fits it. I trust her to take all reasonable precautions.”

“I said I would.”

“I love you, Naomi.”

She sighed, hugely. “I love you, too, Mason.”

“So even though I know you’re smart, you’re careful, and you can kick ass, I’m going to worry about you.”

“I worry about you, Special Agent Carson. Especially since I know you can’t always take what civilians consider reasonable precautions.”

“You could spend a couple weeks in Seattle,” Xander suggested. “Hang with your brother there, do some shopping or whatever, do some work. It’d give them a chance to do the floors in this place.”

“First, Kevin and I have a schedule and the floors are dead last. Second and all the other numbers after that, I’m not leaving here to run off to Seattle so my baby brother can look out for me.”

“You’ve got two years on me,” Mason objected. “That doesn’t make me baby brother. She won’t do it,” he added to Xander. “I walked through the conversation about it with her in my head, and always hit the same wall. But this might make you feel better about it. Did you tell him about the mugger, Naomi?”

“I haven’t thought about that in years.” She picked up the wine, dumped some into the skillet, then trapped the steam with a lid and lowered the heat.

“What mugger?”

“In New York. Naomi was home on summer break from college, working at the restaurant. Decided to walk home one night.”

“It was a nice night,” she added.

“The mugger thought so, too. Anyway, this guy comes up on her-with a knife-wants her money and her watch, her earrings, her phone.”

“I would have given it all to him, just like the uncles had impressed on both of us a million times.”

“Maybe you would have.” Mason shrugged. “But the asshole figured he had a defenseless woman, a scared one. And a pretty one. So he copped a feel.”

“And he smirked,” Naomi stated, and, remembering it all now, sneered.

“She bruised his balls, broke his nose, and dislocated his shoulder, called nine-one-one. He was still on the ground moaning when the cops got there.”

“He shouldn’t have grabbed my breast. He shouldn’t have touched me.”

“You broke his nose.” Purely fascinated by her, Xander studied those slim, almost elegant hands. “You like breaking noses.”

“The nose is a quick and reliable target-offense and defense. I like yours.” She gathered up the carrots, the cauliflower, the broccoli she’d prepped herself, in a big strainer, and took them to the sink to wash. “So don’t piss me off.”

“Just let me know if you’re not in the mood for me to cop a feel.”

She laughed, then brought the carrots back to slice for steaming. “You’ll be the first. Excellent florets and carrot peeling. You’re both dismissed from duty if you want to take the dog out or whatever. You’ve got about thirty.”

“Did you come over on your bike?” Mason asked Xander.

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking a look at it.”

“Sure.” Xander led the way out the back and around. “Just so you know, the landscape crew starts tomorrow. Early.”

“Define early.”

“By seven. Maybe a little before.”

“As early as or earlier than the bang-and-clang crew inside. Oh well. I wanted to say I feel comfortable working out of Seattle, coming over a couple times a week, because you’re going to keep an eye on her. And I didn’t want to say that where she could hear me.”

“I got that. I feel more comfortable knowing she can dislocate some asshole’s shoulder. And still.”

“Still. I don’t know a goddamn thing about motorcycles.” Head angled, Mason studied it. “Except it looks impressive.”

“Okay.”

“Both women were taken in town, so I have to consider that, for now, as his hunting ground. But Naomi’s his type, and she shops and banks and has business in town. She’s the sort he looks for.”

“I got that, too. I’m going to be here every night. We play this Friday at Loo’s. I’ll make sure she comes, and make sure Kevin and Jenny stick with her until we close.”

“If I can be here, I will be. She’ll be careful, but I believe this guy works fast, takes his target quickly.”

As he spoke, Mason studied the house as if looking for security breaches.

“No defensive wounds on either victim. They didn’t have a chance to fight back. Anybody can be taken by surprise, even if they’re careful, even if they’ve studied martial arts and self-defense, so she’s going to have to deal with not having as much time alone as she likes for a while.”

“She’s doing all right with people around.”

“Better than she imagined she would, I’ll bet. She doesn’t know you’re in love with her.”

Saying nothing, Xander held Mason’s steady gaze.

“I’m going there because she’s the most important person in my world. We lived through a nightmare you never come all the way out of, because he’s sitting in a cell in West Virginia. Our mother wasn’t strong enough to keep living on the edge of that nightmare. Naomi found her-came home to pick something up on lunch break from school, and found her, already cold.”

“I know-at least some of it. I looked up what I could after I figured out about Bowes. And I found the piece she wrote back then, for the New York Times. I didn’t want to hit a sore spot by accident, so I read what I could find. I’m sorry about your mother, man.”

“It put another hole in Naomi. Me? Sure, I lived with it and through it, but I’m not the one who saw firsthand what our father had done. I’m not the one who helped pull a victim out of a hole in the ground and half carry her through the woods. I’m not the one who came home from school and found our mother dead by her own hand. Naomi has no degree of separation. And she might deny it-would,” he corrected, “but there’s a part of her that doesn’t see herself worthy of being loved.”

“She’d be wrong about that.”

“Yeah, she’d be wrong. We had counseling, we had the uncles, but no one else has those images of what our parents did, to themselves, to others, to us, in their head the way she does. So there’s a part of her that doesn’t think she’s capable of loving outside of me and the uncles, or worthy of being loved.”

“Well.” Xander jerked a shoulder. “She’ll have to get used to it.”

The simplicity, the carelessness of the remark, made Mason smile. “You’re good for her. That irritated me a little when I first came into it, saw that. I’m pretty much over that now.”

“Did you run my background?”

“Oh yeah, right off.”

“I’d have thought less of you if you hadn’t. I’m never going to hurt her. That’s bullshit,” Xander said immediately. “Why do people say that? Of course I’ll end up hurting her. Everybody does or says something stupid or petty or acts like an asshole sometime and ends up hurting somebody else. What I mean is-”

“I know what you mean, and I believe you. So, are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Mason held out a hand; they shook.

Then he studied the bike again. “How about you let me drive it?”

Considering, Xander rocked back on his heels. “Have you ever been on a bike before-at the controls?”

“No. But I’m an FBI agent, I should know how to drive a bike. Right? What if, in the pursuit of a criminal, I had to hop on a motorcycle, and due to lack of knowledge and experience, said criminal escaped justice? None of us would feel good about that.”

Amused, Xander unclipped the helmet. “Okay.”

“Really? Are you serious?” And beaming like a boy on Christmas morning, Mason took the helmet.

“Sure. You wreck it, you pay for repairs. You end up needing the ER, dinner’s going to get cold. I can go with that.”

“I don’t have a motorcycle license.”

“You’re FBI.”

“Damn fucking straight.” Delighted, Mason swung a leg over, settled. “Now what the hell do I do?”

Before long, drawn by the revving engine and Mason’s war whoops, Naomi came out the front door.

“Is that- Is Mason on your bike?”

“Yeah.” Xander sat on the steps with the dog.

“When did he learn to drive a motorcycle?”

“Pretty much now.”

“Oh, dear God. Get him off before he hurts himself.”

“He’s fine, Mom.”

She huffed. “Well, get him off because dinner’s ready.”

“Done.”

He got up as she went back in, and decided it was best all around that Mason waited until her back was turned to pop a wheelie.

Her brother was a quick study.

Twenty-five

Her house was full of people and noisy tools and machines. Now her front yard was full of people and noisy tools and machines.

She couldn’t defy her brother, Xander, and her own common sense and take off to the forest or down to the shoreline for quiet. For a couple of hours she made the best of it by taking pictures of what was essentially demo-just like the interior-while Lelo uprooted old woody shrubs and ugly tree stumps she’d simply stopped seeing with a massive chain attached to a massive tractor.

The sounds of a wood chipper, of chain saws, of trucks, joined the sounds of nail guns and saws.

Tag loved every minute.

Eventually she escaped inside, popped in her earbuds, and drowned out most of it with music.

The tap on her shoulder had her nearly jumping out of her chair.

“Sorry,” Mason apologized.

“God! I didn’t know you were back.”

“You couldn’t hear a plane land on your deck with this noise-and with Lady Gaga blasting in your ears.”

“Lady Gaga, and others, help me tolerate the rest.” But she took out the earbuds and paused her playlist. “Did they-the autopsy?”

“Yeah. There’s not much more I can tell you. She hadn’t had any food, any water, since about eight, nine o’clock Friday night. That’s consistent with Marla. The same type of blade was used on both. No prints, no DNA, no hairs but her own, that’s also consistent. He’s careful. Anyway, I’m going to work outside on the deck for a while, take advantage of the sun. I’m heading to Seattle tomorrow, and surprise, they’re calling for rain.”

“I don’t know how you can work outside with this noise.”

“My great powers of concentration. These are nice.” He nodded toward the photos on her screen. “These were taken in the forest just west of here?”

“Yes. I was just checking downloads and orders. And I think I’m going to do more notecards-nature shots. They tend to sell.”

Wanting his company just a bit longer, she began to scroll. “This one, then no, no, yes. This one. Then… maybe this.”

“Hold that. That’s a-what do you call it?”

“Nurse log.”

“Right, right, because it nurses other stuff. Moss and mushrooms and lichen.”

“And the younger trees. I love how they grow out of it, the way-in this one-their roots wrap around the mother.”

“Pretty cool.” With a hand light on her shoulder, Mason leaned in a little more to study. “When did you take that?”

“Oh, this one’s been up for a couple weeks. Got some nice hits, decent downloads. I figured I’d crop it a little more, and it would make a nice notecard, for a variety set of eight.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I like it. Anyway, I’m going to get to work, let you get back to your own.”

She’d barely started up before someone tapped her shoulder again. At least this time she didn’t jump.

“Sorry.” Kevin gave her shoulder another pat. “I wanted to ask if you’re ready for us to move you into your studio space.”

“It’s really ready for that?”

“It’s really ready, and we can start working in here again first thing tomorrow.”

“Then I’m ready. Let me shut down, unplug and all that.”

“We can start hauling out the supplies, the mat board deal, and the rest.”

“I need those worktables I bought. Downstairs storage.”

“Already brought them up, and everything you had marked for the studio.”

“I need to let Jenny know I’m ready for the desk whenever she can get to it.”

“Oh, she knows. I keep her up-to-date.”

“I’d better get moving.”

“Jeez, almost forgot.” As if jogging his own memory, Kevin tapped the side of his head. “Lelo and his dad need you outside. We’ll get things moving for you.”

“All right.” She shut down, unplugged.

Taking the back stairs, she hurried through the house, out the front.

There were questions about colors, heights, naturalizing, grass seeds. She had to switch gears from studio space to curb appeal. While she answered, debated, questioned, she reminded herself how glorious it would feel to head into summer the following year with it all done, with the quiet surrounding her like a gift from God.

Switching gears again, she went back in, up the stairs. Found it odd that the door to her studio space was closed, and the crew nowhere in sight.

She opened the door and froze.

The desk she’d first seen piled in Cecil’s barn stood gleaming, facing out as she’d wanted, with the leather chair she’d bought and stored behind it. Her computer, her in and out boxes, her desk lamp sat on it, along with a little squat vase of wildflowers.

Her tools, equipment, supplies were all arranged just as she’d diagrammed-and the sliding barn door on her new storage closet stood open to show everything inside organized on shelves.

The walls, a warm cognac, made a rich backdrop for some of her framed prints.

Jenny stood, her hands clasped between her breasts, all but vibrating beside a grinning Kevin.

“Tell me you love it. Please, please love.”

“Oh my God. I…”

“Say the words first. Say you love it.”

“Of course, I love it. I’d be crazy not to love it. You finished the desk. You didn’t tell me.”

Now Jenny threw up her arms in a V. “Surprise!”

“It’s-it’s exactly what I wanted. It’s more than I’ve ever had. I’ve never had a work space like this. It’s always been on the go, or jury-rigged.” More than dazed, she wandered. “Oh! The floors! The floors are done in here.”

“That was a trick.” Kevin’s grin just widened. “Shows you how the original wood’s going to come back just right. I thought, hey, let’s get it done in here-takes longer, but you won’t have to haul out again when we do the rest of the floors. It’s done.”

“Not done,” Jenny corrected. “She needs a nice love seat over there, a table-a comfortable thinking spot. And an accent rug, pillows, a throw. And-you’ll find what you want. But you love it.”

Incredibly moved, Naomi brushed her fingers over the petals of the wildflowers. “I’ve never had anyone go to this much trouble for me, outside of family.”

“We’re family now.”

Eyes welling, she looked over. “Jenny.”

Jenny flew across the room, grabbed her up in a hug, swayed, bounced, wept a little. “I’m so happy. I’m so happy you’re happy.”

“Thank you so much. So much. You’re the best.”

“I am!”

Laughing now, Naomi drew back. “Both of you.”

“We are! We were worried Lelo wouldn’t be able to keep you outside long enough for us to finish, but he did.”

“That’s what that was all about.”

“We’re the best, the sneaky best. I have to go.”

“I’m driving her back home.”

“He’s worried about me even being in the car by myself. Everybody’s so worked up… but we’re not going to think about that now.” Blinking at tears, Jenny swiped a hand through the air, erased sad thoughts. “You’re going to sit down in your new chair and bask.”

“I absolutely am. Thank you. Both of you. All of you.”

Alone, she did just as Jenny told her. Sat and basked. Then got up and looked at everything.

Then, forgetting the noise, she gave herself the pleasure of working in her own space.

With Tag apparently preferring Mason’s company, and all of her tools and supplies exactly where she wanted them, Naomi lost track of time in the best possible way. The productivity and the pleasure of working in a settled, organized space told her she’d been making do far too long, sacrificing all this for the pick-up-and-go she’d felt necessary.

No one chased her, she thought, but her own ghosts and neuroses. Time to put it all away, time to believe instead of doubt that the past was over and done.

She had a home, and in it, she’d watch summer roll in, then feel the change in the air, then the light change as fall painted the world. She’d have fires lit when winter blew, and be there, just be there when spring bloomed again.

She had a home, she thought again as she added the last of the new stock to her page. She had friends, good friends. She had a man she… All right, maybe she wasn’t entirely ready for what she felt for Xander, but she could be ready to see what happened tomorrow, or next week or- Maybe a week at a time was all she could be ready for in that department.

But it was a hell of an improvement.

Most of all, she was ready to be happy-all the way happy. To hold on to what she had, what she was building for herself.

Now it was time-past time, she realized as she noted the time on her computer-to go down and put a meal together.

She took the back stairs, reminding herself to hit her list and pick out the lighting for that area, and, singing the Katy Perry that had been in her earbuds when she’d shut down, she all but danced into the kitchen.

To find Mason at the counter, laptop open, maps spread out, coffee steaming, a couple of legal pads scattered among the work debris.

“Hey. I thought you were working outside in the sunshine.”

“I needed more room.”

“I see that. No problem. I have enough room here for the shrimp farfalle I have in mind.”

“I asked Xander to pick up pizza. He’s on his way.”

“Oh.” Already in the fridge, she paused, glanced back. “That’s fine, if you’re in a pizza mood, and saves me the trouble.”

Closing the fridge, she switched modes, decided they could eat on the deck. “Where’s the dog?”

“He wanted out. Everyone’s gone for the day.”

“So I see-or rather hear. I worked later than I’d planned. You have to see my studio space.” The thrill of it bubbled through her. “It’s finished, and it’s awesome. I’m going ahead with that darkroom space-in the basement. I don’t do film that often, and Kevin said the plumbing would be easy down there. So it would be really quiet, out of the way, and make use of some of that space.”

She turned, found him watching her quietly. “And I’m babbling while you’re working. Why don’t I take this outside, let you finish up in peace?”

“Why don’t you sit down? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Is everything all right? Of course everything’s not all right,” she said, shut her eyes for a minute. “I’ve been so caught up in my own space, my own work, I forgot about Donna and Marla. Forgot about your work.”

She sat at the counter with him. “It didn’t seem real for a little while. Donna’s funeral’s the day after tomorrow, and Xander… It’s the second funeral since I’ve been here, the second terrible funeral.”

“I know. Naomi-”

He broke off as the dog raced in from the front, danced in place, raced back again.

“That would be Xander and pizza,” Naomi said, started to rise.

“Just sit.”

“You found something.” She put a hand on his arm, squeezed. “Something about the murders.”

She swiveled in the stool when Xander came in, tossed the pizza box on the counter by the cooktop.

“What do you know?”

“Let me start with this. Naomi, this is the picture you took in the forest just west of here. This nurse log.”

She frowned at the image he brought up on his computer. “That’s right. Why did you download it?”

“Because this is one I took yesterday, when Donna’s body was discovered.” Carefully cropped, he thought, as he toggled to it. “It’s the same log.”

“All right, yes.”

“Donna’s body was dumped just off the track, beside this log. It’s an eight-minute trek into the woods-and that’s without carrying a hundred and fifty pounds. It bothered me right off. Why take her in that far? You want her to be found, why take her so far in-put in that time, that effort? Why that spot?”

“I don’t know, Mason. Wanting a little more time before she was found?”

“No point to it. But this place, right here.” He tapped the screen. “It has a point. You’ve had that photo on your site a couple of weeks.”

The chill skipped along her skin. “If you’ve got some wild idea he… this photo inspired him or factored into where he left her, it doesn’t make sense. For one thing, I’ve got a dozen photos up I took in that area.”

“He had to pick one.” Face grim, Xander studied the images.

“It’s just a weird coincidence,” Naomi insisted. “Disturbing, but a coincidence. I barely knew either of the victims. I’ve only been in this area since March.”

Saying nothing, Mason brought up another photo-one she’d taken of the bluff-then brought up another side by side. “Yours, and the crime scene shot. Up on your site, Naomi, for a couple months.”

And that chill seeped in, dug into her bones.

“Why would anyone use my photos to choose where they left a body? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t.”

“Stop it.” Clamping a hand on her shoulder, Xander spoke sharply. “Stop it and breathe.”

Annoyance at the tone shoved the weight off her chest. “It doesn’t make any goddamn sense.”

“And doing what he did to Marla and Donna does?”

“No, no, but that’s-that’s a pathology, right?” She appealed to Mason. “I know enough about what you do to understand that. But I don’t understand how you could take these pictures and begin to think this killer is, what, a fan of my work?”

“It’s more.”

Xander had both hands on her shoulders now, and though they kneaded at the tensed muscles, she understood that another purpose was to keep her in place.

“What’s more?”

Mason took her hand a moment, squeezed it, then brought up another image. “You took this shot in Death Valley in February. I had the locals send me the shots from the body dump.”

He brought it up, heard her breath shudder out. “The victim was midtwenties, white, blonde, lived and worked in Vegas. High-risk vic-stripper, junkie, hooker. It didn’t pop on Winston’s like-crimes search because the locals charged her pimp-who’d been known to tune up his girls-with the crime.

“In January, you took this in Kansas-Melvern Lake. The body of a sixty-eight-year-old female was left here.” Again, he brought up the matching shot. “She lived alone, and as her house had been broken into, things taken, they put it down to robbery gone south.”

“But it was the same,” Naomi said quietly. “What was done to her, the same.”

“There’s a pattern. You flew home for Christmas.”

“Yes. I left my car at the airport. I didn’t want to drive that far for the week I’d be home.”

“A shot you took in Battery Park, and the corresponding crime scene photo. Another high-risk vic. Working girl, junkie, early midtwenties. Blonde.”

“Donna wasn’t blonde. And the older woman-”

“Donna wasn’t his first choice. Neither was the older woman. It’s a pattern, Naomi.”

The cold, a jagged ball of ice, settled in her belly. “He’s using my work.”

“There are more.”

“How many more?”

“Four more I can connect through the photos. Then there are the missings, missing from areas I’ve been able to track you to through the photos. I need the dates-the dates and locations for the last two years. You keep track.”

“Yes. I don’t blog about a place until I’ve left it-I’m careful. But I keep a log of where I was, what date I took what shots. On my computer.”

“I need you to send them to me. If you’ve kept a log further back, I want that, too.”

She focused on Xander’s hands, hands warm and firm on her shoulders. “I have a log from when I left New York, from when I left six years ago. I have everything.”

“I want everything. I’m sorry, Naomi.”

“He didn’t just stumble onto my site and decide to use my photos. He’s following me, either literally or through my blog, or my photos. How far back have you gone?”

“Those two years so far.”

“And you think it’s longer.”

“I’m going to find out.”

“He’s not following, he’s stalking.” When her shoulders only went stiffer under his hands, Xander turned her around on the stool. “You’ll handle it because you have to. She’ll handle it,” he said to Mason without taking his eyes off Naomi. “He’s been stalking you for at least two years. His preferred victim is blonde because you are. And they’re all you. That’s what your brother’s not saying.”

“It’s a theory, and I need more information.”

Xander flicked a glance at Mason, barely a heartbeat. “You’re trying to ease her into it because you’re worried she’ll break. But that’s not the way for you, is it, Naomi?” His gaze met hers, held her. “You’re not going to break.”

“I’m not going to break.” But a part of her was trying desperately to shore up the cracks. “He… He takes them, and he keeps them at least for a couple of days so he can rape them, torture them, gratify himself. After he’s beaten them and raped them, kept them in the dark, cut them, choked them, kept them bound and gagged, he strangles them.”

She drew a shaky breath, then another, steadier before she turned to Mason. “Like our father. Too much like our father now, too much like it to say there are other cruel, sick men who do this. He’s killing like Thomas Bowes, and following me, the way I followed our father that night.”

“I believe he’s studied Thomas Bowes-he may have written to him, visited him, and I’m pulling that line. I believe he’s studied you. He’s here, and for the first time that I can verify, he’s killed twice in the same place.”

“Because I’m in the same place.”

“Yes. From what I’m putting together, he’s evolved. His method, while not exactly the same as Bowes’s, has mimicked it.”

No coincidence, no excuses, she ordered herself. The facts stood clear and straight. She had to face them.

“Why hasn’t he come after me? The others are what you call surrogates; why hasn’t he come after me? There have to have been countless opportunities.”

“Because then it’s over,” Xander said, shrugged. “Sorry,” he said to Mason. “It’s what makes sense.”

“And I agree. I still have more to do, more to analyze, but I can tell you I’ve got enough to have convinced Chief Winston and the coordinator of the BAU to send a team here. This unsub is smart, organized, mission-oriented, and tenacious. But he’s also arrogant-and that arrogance, using those particular sites for his dump spots, is going to break this open. We’re going to stop him, Naomi. I need the data from you. It’s key.”

“I’ll go up, email you the files.” She slid off the stool, went up the back steps without another word.

“She’s telling herself she can’t have this.” Mason lifted his hands to encompass the house, the life. “Not now. What Bowes is, what she tried to leave behind, came here with her.”

“Yeah, she’s telling herself that. She’s wrong.”

With a nod, Mason started to get up, sat back again. “You go. The torch passed while I wasn’t around. And we both came from him. She needs somebody who doesn’t carry that.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

–

She sat at her desk, her beautifully restored desk in her beautifully designed studio. A space that, less than an hour before, had made her so happy, so hopeful.

Had she really told herself, really believed, the past was done? Never done, she thought now. Never over. The ghosts never exorcised.

And once again a killer’s life twined and twisted with hers.

When she heard footsteps, she opened her computer, began to bring up the files.

“It’s going to take me a few minutes,” she said, very, very calmly when Xander came in.

“I got that.” He wandered, measuring the space, the look and feel of it. “Swank, but not fancy. That’s a hard note to hit.”

“You should go down. You and Mason should get to that pizza before it gets any colder.”

“Nothing wrong with cold pizza.”

“There’s nothing for you to do here, Xander.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You need another chair in here. How else is somebody going to hang out and bug you when you’re working? Why don’t you spit out what’s circling around in your gut. I can figure some of it anyway.”

“You want me to spit it out? Start with if I hadn’t gotten it into my head I could stay here, live here, Donna would still be alive.”

“So, straight to the cliché?” He shook his head. “I thought you’d do better. That’s not even a challenge. If you’d moved on, how many others before somebody like your brother finally clued in on the pattern? And what are the chances anybody but him would’ve seen the connection with your photos?”

“I don’t know the chances. But obviously the chances of me being connected to a serial killer for the second time are really good.”

“Sucks for you.”

Shock snagged her breath. “Sucks for me?”

“Yeah, it does. It sucks for you that some lunatic’s out there obsessed with you and emulating your fuck of a father. But you’re not the reason, you’re the excuse. The reason’s inside this sick bastard’s mind, just like your father’s reasons were in his.”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter: excuse, reason. It doesn’t matter what’s in their minds, what drives them to kill. It matters that for the first twelve years of my life I grew up in a house with a monster, and I loved him. It matters that where I spent those years is now best known as Thomas David Bowes’s killing field. It matters that what I grew up with followed us to New York until my mother killed herself rather than live with it. It matters that it’s followed me, leaving death behind, ever since.”

She wouldn’t weep. Tears were useless. But fury, full-blown fury, felt righteous. “It matters that I tried to convince myself I could have what the majority of the human race has. A home, friends, people I care about. A damn idiot dog. All of it.”

“You have that, all of it.”

“It was-is-a fantasy. I got caught up in it, let myself believe it was real, but-”

“So what, you’ll pack up, take off, sell this place, dump the dog?”

The fact stood clear, she thought again. “Sometimes people have roots so corrupted, they shouldn’t try to plant them.”

“That’s bullshit, and it’s weak. If you want to feel sorry for yourself, I’ll give you a pass, but that’s weak. You’ve got better than that, baby.”

“You don’t know what I’ve got, baby.”

“Hell I don’t, and because I do, I know you’re not going to let some son of a bitch send you running.”

He put the palms of his hands on her desk and leaned toward her. “I know what I’ve got, and I’m damned if I’ll let you run. You’ve got what you need right here, and you’re going to stick.”

She surged to her feet. “Don’t tell me what I’m going to do.”

“I’m telling you. You’re going to stick because what you want, what you need is right here. What makes you happy is right here. You need me, and I make you happy. And I fucking well need you, so you’ll stick.”

“It’s my life, my choice.”

“Screw that. You want to try to run, I’ll just bring you back.”

“Stop telling me what to do. Stop yelling at me.”

“You started it. Maybe you haven’t worked it through your system, pulled it free from the I’ve-got-bad-blood excuses you fall back on, but you’ve got feelings for me.”

“How can you say things like that? How can you minimize this?”

“Because you overinflate it, so it’s easy to stick a damn pin in it. Because I’ve got feelings for you. I’m in fucking love with you, so you’re going to stick. And that’s it.”

She took one stumbling step back, went pale.

Xander rolled his eyes. “Cut that out and breathe. Yell back. You don’t panic when you’re pissed. And maybe I’d have done that with more class if I weren’t pissed right back at you.”

Or maybe not, he thought, but either way.

“Sunlight in your hair. Morning light. You’re standing there, working on a piece of plywood, sunlight all over you, and I feel like someone kicked me off a damn cliff. So you’re not going anywhere, just check that off the list.”

“It can’t work.”

“You should try to balance out that Pollyanna attitude of yours, season it with some cynicism. It has been working,” he added. “For both of us. I know what the hell works and what doesn’t. We work, Naomi.”

“That was before…” When his eyebrows lifted, she dragged a hand through her hair, tried to find level ground again. “Can’t you see what’s going to happen? I pray, and I’ll keep praying Mason’s right. They’ll find him, they’ll stop him. And I’ll hope with all I have they do that before he kills again. But when they do find him, it’ll all fall apart again. Me, my father, whoever this maniac is, all tied together. And the press-”

“Oh, fuck the press. You’ll stand up to it.”

“You have no idea what it’s like.”

“You’ll stand up to it,” he repeated, without a hint of doubt. “And you won’t be alone. You’ll never have to be alone again. You can count on me.”

“Oh God, Xander.”

When he crossed to her, she tried to back away, shook her head, but he simply grabbed her, pulled her in. “You can count on me. And you’re damn well going to.”

He tipped her head back, kissed her more gently than he ever had. “I love you.” Kissed her again, drew her in, just held. “Get used to it.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“You don’t know until you try. We’re not going anywhere, Naomi.”

She felt herself breathe in, breathe out. “I’ll try.”

“That’ll do.”