"A cab?" She looked around. What happened?

"Let's walk down to Jefferson Street. There's always one coming by looking for tourists."

"But..."

He helped her to her feet and held her jacket as she first stepped back into her shoe. When they reached Jefferson, a cab was just driving by. Tyler hailed it and put Nona inside.

She hardly knew what had happened when she found herself alone, once again. Here she thought Tyler was interested, s.e.xy, and willing...yet she'd gotten the b.u.m's rush!

What's wrong with the men in this town?

Hannah worked the duct tape on her hands, trying to stretch it, to loosen it, to get it to move, somehow, with no luck. She was exhausted. Her legs and arms had gone numb from the way they'd been tied, a numbness she knew would turn into deep shooting pains if she couldn't stretch or otherwise help her circulation.

Hours had pa.s.sed since Tyler was last there. At least when he was with her, she could hope to talk him into letting her go. Hope that she'd get out of here and not be abandoned. Where was he?

Her biggest worry was that he'd find the baby. She didn't understand how he'd figured out that Stan was the one she'd gone to. Stan was a just a customer. If every customer she'd ever talked to was tracked down, it would have taken months to find Kaitlyn. What went wrong?

Perhaps she gave something away in how she'd talked with Stan. Was that it? Had she been too obvious in her interest in the man, or had Stan been too obvious in his interest in her? She remembered the way Stan's sweet brown eyes had settled on her with so much warmth, and how she'd felt the color rise in her face because of it.

What was Stan doing now? What was he thinking about her being gone so long? Did he still have Kaitlyn, or had he sent her off to Social Services because her mother had abandoned her? Somehow, she didn't think Stan would do that. He'd wait. He'd give her time to come back for the baby. He knew she wouldn't abandon Kaitlyn.

She prayed he knew it, at any rate, and that he'd wait for her to return.

Her throat was parched and her stomach ached from emptiness. Was that part of Tyler's plan? To wear her down with hunger?

He'd pour her water from a gla.s.s jug when he came in, nothing more. After that, he'd badger her with talk.

He almost made her believe she should give her baby up. But when she thought about losing Kaitlyn, she couldn't bear it.

He'd called her selfish.

Was it so selfish to want to raise one's own child?

The cellar was dark and empty. She'd seen how empty it was when he came in with his flashlight and lit the battery lantern. When he was gone, it was darker than night.

She remembered the words from Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World." Something about the bright, blessed day, and the dark, sacred night.

She'd never see the dark as sacred again. It was evil. The evil of death.

It reached out for her. Would she ever see her child again?

She could feel herself growing weaker. It had been bad at first when the hunger pangs struck, but they were gone now, replaced by a dull, constant ache.

Where was he? What if he never came back? No one would know she was here. She'd die of thirst, a slow awful death. She licked her lips. They were starting to crack.

The water bottle was kept on a shelf.

A gla.s.s bottle....

It gave her an idea. If it worked, she'd be free. But if it didn't...She wouldn't think of that now.

She scooted along the wall to a corner, then twisted herself around and rocked back and forth until she was able to get up onto her knees. Using the walls to brace herself, trying time and again, she managed to maintain her balance and lift herself up to a standing position.

She pressed close to the wall so she wouldn't fall and moved by sliding her feet, first toes, then heels, toward where the jug sat.

When she reached it, she felt the jug with her nose, then used her head to shove it off the shelf. It fell to the cement floor with a crash. Gla.s.s shattered around her.

Carefully, she lowered herself to the floor once again and felt in the rubble for a large piece of gla.s.s. The entire bottom of the jug had stayed intact. It was exactly what she needed.

She braced it against the wall and lowered the duct tape onto a sharp edge, then slid the tape slowly back and forth over the gla.s.s until the tape broke in two.

After tearing the tape from her wrists, she grabbed the gla.s.s and used it to cut through the tape at her ankles. Blood streamed from her hands, lots of blood, but it didn't matter. Freedom was near.

Sense and feeling pushed aside the overpowering despair and numbness she'd felt, but still it took several moments for her to be able to walk.

She stumbled toward the door, knowing it would be locked. The good news was that it was just a normal interior door. Nothing especially thick or strong.

She kicked it. It didn't budge. Fury filled her as she thought of how he'd tried to kill her, as she thought of never seeing her baby again, and she kicked harder, again and again.

A panel on the bottom half of the door cracked. She aimed her foot at the crack and struck until it split wide.

She worked at it, kicking, grabbing it with her hands, rocking the wood back and forth until she made an opening, then tearing at it more until the opening became large enough that she could squeeze her body through it.

It was amazing, she realized when she calmed down enough to think about it, that no one had heard her breaking the door. No one came to investigate the pounding and crying, for only after it was over had she realized she'd been screaming with fury.

The need to move slower struck. Freedom was so close, so precious, that she didn't want to do anything in haste that might jeopardize it.

After she felt her way to the stairs, then up them, a door at the top caused her heart to sink. It might be locked and far more solid than the one she'd just fought through.

It opened.

The main floor of the building had windows that were cloudy with dirt and grime. Only a little light shone into them. It must have been nighttime, she surmised, and the lights were street lamps.

The building appeared to be filled with old machine parts. She found a door and opened it just a crack, then peeked out. The street was dark and empty. She slipped into the night, staying close to the building as she went, until suddenly it felt safe to run.

At the corner stood a street sign: Battery and Filbert. She was near the Embarcadero, near the waterfront, but more importantly, she was less than two miles from Stan's apartment. She could make it.

Up ahead was Broadway Street. It'd take her around Telegraph Hill, and from there she could quickly climb to the top of Russian Hill and Kaitlyn. Tears filled her eyes as she went, staying close to the buildings, not wanting anyone, not any of the night people, to delay her.

But then she stopped. The question that had bothered her the entire time she was tied up struck. How had Ty found her? She had just rounded the corner from Stan's apartment building when she was grabbed. A rag was placed over her mouth-it must have had chloroform or something similar because she was soon out cold.

When she awoke, she was being pulled from the car. She was too woozy to understand where she was or what was happening.

Had Stan given her away? Was he involved in this? Or was it Angie? Ty had talked about her. Angie led him to her, he'd said. Had it been a mistake on her part? Or did she do it on purpose?

No! Angie was a good person, like Stan.

Wasn't she?

And if it was Angie, why would she tell him the building address, but not Stan's apartment number? Thank goodness it was a twelve-story building, or Tyler might have gone door to door looking for the child.

Confusion filled her. She'd trusted foolishly once, given a man her heart, lowered all the defenses she'd built up over a lifetime to let him get close to her. Dianne Randle had questioned her judgment about men. Maybe she should question her judgment about women as well.

Nothing made sense! She couldn't think, and felt only fear and complete exhaustion. If she rushed to see Kaitlyn and was wrong, she might never see her daughter again.

She stood on the sidewalk in front of Angie and Stan's apartment building. She ached to go inside, but she also had to think this through. Who could she trust? What should she do to a.s.sure that she and Kaitlyn would never again be in danger?

Tyler was the biggest threat to her and her daughter. The one thing she wanted more than anything else in the world was to see Kaitlyn's father dead. Unbidden, the thought came to her-find him and kill him.

Olympia Pappas tried to concentrate on her job, but the letters and numbers blurred before her eyes.

She couldn't stomach it any longer. Not his lies, his deceit. He'd loved her once, but it was over. She had to face it and get on with her life. But the thought of a black, loveless, desolate future brought angry tears to her eyes.

Why couldn't he see that she was the best one for him? Why didn't he understand that she loved him enough for both of them?

She tried to concentrate on matching the case number on the paper she held with the number written on the folder, but it wasn't working. All she could see was Tyler.

She could make him happy if he'd only give her a chance instead of wasting his time on other women. She'd seen how they'd go alone to the restaurant and then throw themselves at him. That skinny blonde wh.o.r.e did it tonight. It made her want to throw up!

Did he think she hadn't seen? That she hadn't known?

How dare he treat her like this! Take her love and toss it aside as if it were nothing-as if she were nothing.

She stuffed handfuls of papers into folders, her hands flying, her mind paying no attention to what she was doing.

She'd show him. She'd make him sorry he ever, ever dared to treat her that way. He'd be hers or he'd be no one's. She'd rather see him dead.

Chapter 23.

A crowd gathered on the sidewalk outside a small Stockton Street building that housed four small apartments. Homicide Inspector Rebecca Mayfield scanned the faces as she entered the one downstairs, right. Her partner hadn't arrived yet, which was hardly a surprise. She should be used to it by now; still, it irked her.

A male Caucasian lay sprawled face down on the living room floor, the area around him thick with blood.

The policeman who found the body stepped up to Rebecca. "Officer Dandridge, Inspector. We received a 911 call from this apartment and came by to investigate. The landlady let us in when our knocks received no answer. We found the victim. In his hand is his cell phone-one of those that pressing one number calls 911. That's how he reached us." His gaze shifted to the bloodied corpse. "Not that it helped."

Rebecca snapped on her rubber gloves and lifted the body so she could see the victim's face. When she did so, she started. She knew the man; she'd spoken with him in connection with Sherlock Farnsworth's death. It was Tyler Marsh.

He'd been stabbed several times in the heart and stomach. It appeared that whoever did it had been very, very angry.

The last thing Paavo expected when he knocked on Angie's door was to have it opened by Stan Bonnette wearing nothing but an undershirt and BVDs.

Stan looked sleepy, but jerked quickly awake at Paavo's scowl. "Uh..."

"Making yourself at home, aren't you, Bonnet? Where's Angie?"

Stan hurried to put on his pants as Paavo entered the apartment. "It's Bonnette," he said automatically. "I was here talking about Hannah, then Kaitlyn fell asleep, then Angie, and I didn't want to disturb them...and Angie's couch is more comfortable than mine, which I can hardly find anymore..." He stopped talking.

The baby was in the stroller, dozing contentedly.

Angie stepped out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. "I thought I heard voices." Suddenly, looking at Paavo, at Stan, at the early hour, all the color drained from her face. "Has something happened?"

Stan saw her reaction and the possible reason for it struck him as well. He dropped onto the sofa, his knees weak. "Hannah?" he murmured.

"It's not Hannah," Paavo said. "We haven't found her yet." Both Angie and Stan sighed with relief.

"This is so much like the morning you came by to tell me about Peter Leong," Angie said. "I had the feeling something bad had happened."

"It's not exactly the same," Paavo said with a grimace in Stan's direction. "But something bad did happen. Does the name Tyler Marsh sound familiar?"

"Yes," Angie said. "He works at the Athina."

"When did you last see him?"

"Hmm, several days ago, at least," Angie answered.

"Me, too," Stan added.

"Why?" She looked from Stan to Paavo.

"He was murdered last night."

Angie glanced again at Stan. "Murdered? My G.o.d!" Her eyes saddened. He wasn't a good man, that she'd learned, but no one deserved that fate. "He was so young, so full of life. I'm sorry he's dead."

Stan's eyes were like an owl's. "Do you know who did it?" he asked, his voice quavering.

"He was found in his apartment. It apparently happened around midnight. We'll know more later. Right now I'd like you both to tell me everything you know about Tyler Marsh and the other people at the restaurant."

Rebecca talked to Marsh's neighbors and wrote down names for follow-ups later. No one admitted to hearing or seeing anything out of the ordinary other than the fact that Marsh's next-door neighbor heard his front door slam a couple of times late at night. Its latch wouldn't catch unless pulled hard.

As soon as the Athina opened that morning, Rebecca headed there with Paavo. She'd only worked on a case with him once before and took a moment to brush her hair and freshen her makeup. She had to admit she never felt quite so nervous or upbeat when she rode in the SFPD-issued Ford beside her usual partner.

At the Athina, they spoke first with Eugene Leer. He believed the killer was Hannah Dzanic. Her disappearance showed how unbalanced she was; she killed Tyler because he wouldn't marry her.

Rebecca asked if Leer knew of any other enemies Tyler might have had. He didn't.

Michael Zeno was sure Olympia Pappas had killed Marsh. They'd dated before Hannah entered the picture, and Olympia never got over him. She was hot-tempered and insanely jealous. When Hannah left, she tried to get Tyler back, but he wasn't interested.

Eleni Pappas thought Michael Zeno killed him out of jealousy and Tyler's treatment of Hannah, while Gail Leer believed he was simply the victim of a botched robbery attempt.

Interestingly, Paavo noted, no one seemed particularly upset or troubled by their co-worker's death.