Unease crept through him as he shifted in his chair. "Meaning?"

"That you...well what I mean is...the paper..." She stopped her stammering and looked into his eyes. He saw the questions within their depths. How muc h did she already know about him? Then her gaze dropped to the opening of h er purse. She pulled out a pad and grasped a pen from the holder on his des k. "Meaning that you're the top detective on the case. You'll be plastered all over the news until this case is solved."

Cole continued to stare at her, saying nothing. She had made a good attemp t at saving herself from revealing what she had meant earlier, but he had an inkling she knew more. How much of his life had she dug up and how much did she believe?

"Things aren't always what they seem, Laurie. Now, I suggest we get to the reason I brought you down here. I want you to run a small story on Shana Darby. Just give the specifics." Cole paused as she wrote down everything.

"Tell about how she has been missing for six months, ran away from home, how devastated her family is not to have seen her for months only to have her come home in a body bag.

"I want you to write about her funeral on Sat.u.r.day. Don't make this a hard p iece, Laurie. I want it soft. Our perp already feels remorse for what he's done. We need to play on that. Bring him out. But I don't want to find how so rry we think he feels in the papers."

Laurie stopped writing and placed the end of the Bic on the edge of her low er lip as though she pondered on her newly acquired information. Cole felt the now usual stirring of his groin when he found himself in her presence a nd he found it d.a.m.n hard to remain professional. He shifted.

"Do you want me to write about what an amoral type of person he is?"

"Absolutely not." Cole ran his hand down his jaw. "You don't want to make h im out to be the monster he is. If we hope to catch him and bring him in, w e'll need to make him out to be the victim."

"What?" Laurie nearly choked on the word as she came to the edge of her se at. "You have to be kidding! This man brutally slaughters two girls and you want me to make it look like it was their fault?"

"Not at all. But what I don't want is you spouting off the mouth and scarin g my perp away."

Laurie's eyes narrowed as she waggled a finger in Cole's direction. "Let me tell you something, Detective-"

"No, Miss Michaels," he jumped in, "I'll tell you. You go out there with all h.e.l.l-fire and d.a.m.nation, my perp will never confess. But play things my way , play up to his vulnerabilities and we might have a chance."

"And just how do you expect to do that?"

"By pretending we understand. These women were two hookers who wanted to take advantage of him, toy with him. He thought he was doing this world a favor by getting rid of them."

Laurie shook her head in disbelief, "I don't believe this."

"You get this guy thinking you understand him and he's liable to open up lik e a can of worms, whistling 'Dixie.' Portray him like the monster he is and he'll clam up tighter than Whistler's Mother's a.s.s."

"So you want me to print this?"

"On the contrary-I don't want to see that in the paper." His anger hit a hig h note. "What I want, Miss Michaels, is to see a sob story about the Darbys and their great loss. I don't want one word in there about this perp. You pr int only what I want or I'll find someone who's more willing."

"So, I'll print how the Darbys lost someone dear to them and how Shana Darb y was the perfect angel." The note of acrimony in her voice told him she ha d not bought his plan of action.

"You aren't getting the picture here, Laurie." Cole lightened his tone, pla ying to her sensible side. "I want a soft piece on Mom and Pop Darby. I don 't want anything portraying Shana Darby an innocent unless it was before sh e shunned her parents and ran away. We know my perp feels remorse. If we ca tch him and get him thinking we understand. He's liable to 'fess up with al l the sordid details. Do things my way, and they'll work out. You'll see." "I certainly hope you're right, Cole. This man needs to be stopped."

"And right now, we don't have a lot to go on."

"I'll get back to the paper, print this up, and fax you a copy. You can retur n my fax with any corrections you want."

Laurie stood to leave, shoving her pad back in her over-sized purse and plac ed the pen back in his cup. Cole stood and walked around the desk, escorting her to the front door of the station.

"I appreciate you working with me on this," Cole said as he opened the door for her.

"As long as the rewards are worth it."

Cole thought about the possible double meaning and the suggestiveness of he r tone. "We'll catch him if that's what you're saying."

"Maybe," she cut short, though with a teasing tone.

He chuckled. "You have little faith in me?"

"No, maybe as in I might have been talking about catching the criminal as w orth the reward and then again, I might have been talking about another rew ard."

With a seductive smile and a s.e.xy sway of her hips, she exited the building, letting Cole wonder as to what rewards she might just welcome. Leave it alo ne, Cole , he scolded himself, though he couldn't help the sly smile from cr eeping up on his face as he made his way back to his office. Leave it the he ll alone.

Hours hadpa.s.sed since his talk with Laurie Michaels and Marge Darby. Laurie had faxed him her piece. And with a few changes, he returned the approved st ory, pleased with the article. With any bit of luck, Cole's proactive choice would work. If the perp did not show up on Sat.u.r.day at the gravesite, he wo uld some night following. These types of serial killers often visited the gr aves. If not out of remorse, then out of some sick desire to relive their tw isted fantasies.

Cole rose from his desk and made his way to the interrogation room. Word c ame in that Nicholas Darby was now at the station. Cole immediately sent a n officer to retrieve Marge.

He walked to the one-way gla.s.s and watched the vain man from the window. He wore a white polo shirt with a little green horse on the pocket and tan plea ted shorts. A sweater was knotted loosely about his neck. He tapped the eras er of a pencil against the solid surface of the table, his eyes darting abou t the room. Police stations obviously made the man nervous, but he seemed to show little remorse. Just fear, anxiety, and agitation.

Probably, Cole thought with a humph, for the inconvenience of having to cut short his little vacation. Cole opened the door and walked in, drawing the blonde-haired man's gaze. "Mr. Darby," Cole addressed. He turned a chair backwards, straddling it as he rested his arms across the back, giving the man his undivided attentio n. "You already know why you've been brought down here."

"Yes," he clipped. "I was informed my daughter was found murdered."

"You don't look as though you've been grieving too much as of late."

"I shed all my tears in California." Nicholas steeled his jaw. "Get to the p oint, Detective. Why did you bring me all the way down here?"

"Christ," Cole blasphemed beneath his breath, shaking his head. He got up from his chair and began pacing the room. "You're a real piece of work, M r. Darby. Your daughter is murdered and all you can worry about is the inc onvenience it's causing you."

"Look," Nicholas growled, "I loved my daughter, but she made her choice w hen she again ran away from home six months ago. I can't help it if she ch ose the unsafe life of the streets to my home or my wife's. Besides, if yo u want to blame anyone, you should be looking at my ex. Marge is responsib le."

"For what?" Cole chuckled cruelly. "For loving your daughter?"

Nicholas laughed. "You have to be kidding. She's the one who forced my daug hter to run away the second time. If it wasn't for her selfishness, our dau ghter would still be alive. Instead, I'm called away from a very important business deal to come here and ID my daughter's dead body. Is that what I'm here for?"

"Your ex-wife already identified Shana's body. I called you in here to tell y ou about the steps we plan on taking to catch the person who did this."

"And these are?"

"I'm going to publicize the funeral-"

"Like h.e.l.l you are!" Nicholas jumped to his feet and threw the pencil he had been playing with on the table, sending it bouncing to the floor. "I've alr eady been through enough. I'll be d.a.m.ned before I'll let you walk all over m y Shana's grave."

"Calm down, Mr. Darby." Cole used his hand to indicate for the man to retak e his seat. This man was a real gem.

"Allow me to explain."

Nicholas's face turned red as a beet, but he wisely clenched his jaw and ret ook his seat. "There isn't anything you can say that will change my mind," h e grumbled.

Cole sighed. Patience, he warned himself. "Mr. Darby, I've already explaine d this to your wife. She's on her way down here."

"Then I'm out of here. I have no use for that woman. She couldn't give a g ood blow-"

"Mr. Darby!" Cole slammed his hand on the table, cutting off his words. "Let me tell you something," he bit between clenched teeth, "I don't give a rat's a.s.s what you think of your ex-wife. I am here to do my job and I'll be dam ned before I allow you to get in my way. I'm going to catch this son of a bi tch before he decides to kill another girl. You, sir, are going to shut your mouth and listen."

The chief opened the door, poking his head in. "Cole, I want to speak with y ou a minute."

Cole walked out of the interrogation room and slammed the door behind him. T hey both stared at Nicholas Darby through the one-way gla.s.s. Nicholas walked up to the mirror and positioned a stray hair that had fallen out of place, then returned to his seat at the table.

"I know the man is infuriating, but you can't treat him like a criminal. He'll slap us with a lawsuit faster-"

"All right." Cole raised his hands in front of him. "I'll be nice ," he spit the last word with contempt.

"Mrs. Darby is in my office. Are you ready for her?"

"Give me a few minutes, then send her in."

Cole walked back into the room and straddled the chair again. "I'm sorry ab out the interruption, Mr. Darby. Now, as I was saying, we have devised a pl an to catch the perp." His voice was forcibly calm.

When Nicholas meant to give his objection again, Cole raised a hand to sta y his words. "The perp felt remorse for what he did. We know this because he covered Shana's body before leaving it."

Cole paused as Mrs. Darby entered the room and took a seat, doing her best not to look at her ex-husband.

"Since we know he already feels bad, we have strong suspicions he'll visit her grave. We know this based on strong scientific fact and FBI profiles do ne in the past. If we use the media, there is a good chance this man will a t sometime visit Shana's grave. Do you understand?"

Talking to Nicholas Darby was like patronizing a ten year-old child, Cole th ought.

"Do what you want," Nicholas growled as he looked at Marge. "She obviousl y okayed this. Just count me out."

As he got up to leave, Marge laid a hand on his forearm. "You can't mean to say you won't go to the funeral?"

He jerked his arm from her touch as though it was a scorpion with a raised ta il. "Oh, I'll be at the funeral. But don't expect me to volunteer myself to a ny reporter. I don't want my life plastered all over the front pages of some d.a.m.n paper."

With that as his final word, he walked out of the room, and slammed the do or. Cole glanced at Marge, whose tears slipped down her cheeks. She placed her face in her palms and sobbed.

"Has he always been like that?" Cole asked moments later. "What the h.e.l.l caused him to be so hateful?"

"It's me. He hates me," Marge said through her broken tears. Cole handed he r a tissue. "When I found out he was cheating on me, I did some pretty awfu l things that cost him a high paying job." She glanced away, shamed. "He ha d to settle for a less prestigious job, lost his home, and now his daughter . He'll blame me until the day he dies."

"And you'll blame yourself."

"Yes," she choked on a hiccup.

Cole wanted to walk around the table and embrace the woman. Instead, he he ld his ground. "I'd tell you things would work out, Marge," he said as he smoothed a hand down his jaw, "but I'd be lying," knowing how close to the truth he actually was.

Chapter 7.

Another long day and the week had just begun, it being only Monday. Cole th ought five o'clock would never arrive, wanting nothing more than to head fo r home and fall into a deep coma-like sleep. But first, he had to talk with the chief.

The funeral on Sat.u.r.day had produced little to nothing and his leads in the case were not going in an agreeable direction. Though his first impression o f Nicholas Darby was not a favorable one, Cole didn't think he deserved to b e the lead-h.e.l.l, the only suspect in his own daughter's murder.

Everything they had was circ.u.mstantial, however little the evidence, and noth ing seemed to add up. But they had to follow all possibilities. Cole raked a tired hand through his hair and entered the chief's office.

"What do you have, Cole?" John asked as he offered him a seat.

"Very little." Taking a chair, Cole reclined back, leaned on his elbow, and placed his thumb beneath his chin. "The autopsy shows both girls died from t he same type of affliction. Cause of death being the extreme loss of blood c aused by the deep neck wound. Both had bite marks surrounding the laceration . No sign of struggle to either, no traces of flesh beneath the fingernails.

Neither victim was raped. No traces of s.e.m.e.n. The only thing we do have is a long black hair without the presence of a root."

John narrowed his eyes. "Where did we get the hair?"

"The Coroner got it off the body of the first victim we found. But there was none to match on either her clothing or the blanket-or the second dead body , for that matter." "So we could possibly be looking for a man who has a desire for blood and h as long black hair."

"The first is a definite. The second is not more than a possibility."

John appeared to ponder the findings. Of course, they had nothing; nothing with which to convict a man. They needed a suspect and they needed one fast , or chance losing another innocent girl, no matter what she did for a livi ng.

"Anything else?"

"Not much," Cole stalled. The last thing he wanted to do was put suspicion o n someone who might very well be guilty of being an a.s.shole, but not somethi ng of this magnitude. He released a sigh. "Shana's father left town convenie ntly after the time of his daughter's death. I say that tells us nothing. Bu t coupled with the fact that as of yet he has shown no remorse...well, let's just say we should keep a close eye on him."

"How did he react at the funeral Sat.u.r.day?"

"Not a tear." Cole shook his head. "The son of a b.i.t.c.h certainly wouldn't ge t any Father of the Year awards. He stayed long enough to hear the eulogy, t hen split. His girlfriend waited in the car like it was some d.a.m.n inconvenie nce."

"Any known connection to the other victim?"

"Won't know that until we have a positive ID. AFIS still hasn't come up wi th anything. We have a dead prost.i.tute and no one seems to know who the he ll she was. You would think someone would be missing this girl-other prost itutes, pimps, somebody. Our questioning of them so far has turned up noth ing in either case."

John glanced out the window, then back to Cole. "So all you got at the fune ral was a deadbeat dad? Anything else?" He asked, his tone hopeful. Cole kn ew John wanted to catch this perp as bad as he did. h.e.l.l, they were likely to find another body and still have no more to go on than they had now.

"The funeral was my strongest hope, but we pulled up nothing. No one who w asn't suppose to be there. We ran all the plates-nothing. But I haven't gi ven up on that end yet. I got John Casey on night surveillance and Jesse G onzalez on days. They're each taking twelve-hour shifts here. Each d.i.c.k al so has a uniform with him. If this guy shows up-we'll nail him."

John's expression hardened. "How long do you expect to keep them out there , Cole? I can't afford to keep my men off the streets. You have two weeks tops, then I want you to pull them and find another angle."

"Two weeks?" His voice rose, giving way to his sudden anger. "Come on, J ohn. You can't shut down my only avenue."

"Two weeks, Cole," he restated, his tone challenging Cole to dispute him. T here would be no changing the chief's mind. "Follow up on this lead with th e father. See where it takes you." "And the long black hair?" Cole asked, though he knew the possibility of it not belonging to the murderer. It could have belonged to anyone.

"Don't close any doors. You find a man with long black hair-check up on him, see if he fits."