"Because the dress was there."

"Where?"

"Where I sleep."

"How often are you the sister?" Casey prodded.

He looked up at the sky, his eyes darting about, thinking. "Not too much," he finally said.

"Once a week?"

He looked at her strangely. "A week?" Then he looked away, embarrassed. "I lose track of the days." Then his eyes lit up. "But I know when Sunday is. That's when I hear the bells."

Leslie smiled. "Yes. The church bells."

"That's Sunday," he said proudly.

"Okay, John, but back to the dress," Casey said. "Patrick leaves the dress for you?"

"Uh-huh."

"So, do you live...like, in an apartment?"

He gave Casey a look that made Leslie laugh out loud. She couldn't help it, but Casey fishing for information from this boy-and that was what he was, a boy in a man's body-was just too comical. So, like you would do with any child, you asked directly.

"John, where do you sleep?"

"Depends on the weather. If it's not too cold, I like to be with Sammy."

"Who's Sammy?"

"He's my friend. He let's me sleep by him sometimes."

"Out on the street? In an alley?"

He nodded. "It's not so bad."

"Does Patrick sleep with you?" Casey asked.

He shook his head. "He likes it dark."

"What do you mean?"

126.*"He's always inside. But it's cold there. Cold and dark. So I like it outside."

"Inside where?"

He stared at her for moment, frowning. "I'm not sure." His eyes lit up. "Look! Here they come." His voice lowered. "I think they're dancers. They're so pretty."

Leslie followed his gaze, seeing the group of young girls running across the grass.

Dancers, indeed. But it wasn't a musical. It appeared to be some sort of exercise class.

"They don't come all the time," he said. "But sometimes when I'm here they come."

"John, listen," Casey said. "Do you think you could introduce us to Patrick?"

He made a face. "I don't think he'd like that."

"Why not?"

"He gets mad sometimes." He paused. "But I don't see him that much."

"Why not," Leslie asked.

"He's opposite."

"Opposite? You mean, like sometimes he wears the dress and sometimes you do?"

John laughed. "No, silly. I mean he's opposite of me."

Leslie looked at Casey, wondering if she had any idea what he was talking about.

"Okay. Opposite...like you're a boy and he's a girl?" Casey tried.

"He's mostly a girl. I'm mostly a boy. Sometimes we're both boys. But we're only a girl one at a time."

"Okay." Casey stood, moving in front of John. She squatted down, looking at him.

"Opposite like...you like chocolate and he doesn't?"

John laughed. "No. Like I like day and he likes night."

Casey frowned. "Huh?"

"He sleeps when I'm up," he said, holding his hands out to the sunshine. "I sleep when he's up. Opposite."

Casey looked at her, a pained expression on her face. Help. Leslie smiled at her, having to stop herself from simply bending closer and squeezing her tight in a hug.

Instead, she bumped John's shoulder with her own, sitting close to him on the bench.

"Opposite. I get it. So right now, he's sleeping."

127.*"Yeah, I guess." He tilted his head. "We should be alike, but we're not."

"Because you're brothers?"

"aCause we're twins. But we don't like anything the same. He doesn't like chocolate."

Casey's eyebrows shot up. "You're twins?" She grabbed the bridge of her nose.

"Twins. Imagine that."

"Where is he now?" Leslie asked.

"He's in the hole, I guess."

Casey touched his knee. "What hole, John?"

"The hole in the wall." He broke out in a smile. "Look! The ducks came back." He jumped up, running again to the pond.

"Christ," Casey murmured. She looked at her. "What do you want to do?"

"We can't keep pushing him. He's like a child. He's going to clam up when he's tired of talking."

Casey nodded. "Twins. Didn't see that coming."

"Twins. But not identical twins," she said.

"How do you know?" Casey asked.

"Because identical twins have the same DNA." She shrugged. "I took a couple of forensic classes."

"So even though they're twins, they might not even look alike."

"Right. But because they switch out on being the sister, I'd guess that they do favor each other."

"Well, at least we've got some sort of relationship with him." Casey grinned. "I think he has a crush on you."

Leslie stood. "And I think he's scared you're going to tie him up," she teased.

"Okay. Let's try to find out where he goes during the day and why the hell we couldn't find him all week."

"Yeah. But why do you think Patrick does the dress thing? And why would he make John wear it occasionally? It makes no sense."

"If there's another murder, CIU will get involved. And then we'll have profilers and shrinks reviewing the case. We'll know soon enough why he does the dress."

128.*"That's the problem. The why of it isn't going to really help us catch him."

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

"Give me a break, Hunter," Casey said. "On what goddamn charges?" She flicked her glance at Leslie, rolling her eyes. "He hasn't done anything wrong. We found him, we talked to him, end of story." She frowned. "Because we goddamn believe him, that's why."

Leslie watched her, having learned how Casey and Tori spoke to one another when they appeared to be upset. Which, in reality, they weren't really upset with each other.

It was just Tori's way of venting, and Casey let her. To a degree.

"Yeah, yeah. Love to Sam." She closed her phone. "She drives me insane. I swear, I think she does it on purpose. Anyway, Malone's trying to get approval for a twenty-four hour tag detail, hoping John can lead us to Patrick. I'll get with Hunter sometime this weekend and go over what all John told us."

"Well, at least we know more than we did. I'm glad we can call it an early night for once." As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back.

"Yeah. Short night." Casey forced a smile. "And a Friday. I guess you and Michael have big plans?"

Leslie bit her lip. Casey hadn't mentioned Michael's name all week. "No, Casey, that's not what I meant. I just...it's been a long week. That's all."

"Yeah, it has." Casey glanced at her quickly. "I'm sorry. So, I have laundry planned for the weekend. And I promised Mr. Gunter I'd mow his yard for him." She took a deep breath. "What do you guys have going on? Anything fun?"

"Stop it."

Casey put her blinker on, waiting for a car to pass before turning into the parking lot.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "You're right. It's been a long week. It's none of my business anyway."

"Casey?"

She looked at her and Leslie was shocked by the sadness she saw in her eyes. She reached a hand out, but Casey pulled away.

"Don't," she whispered.

"Casey? What are we doing here?"

"I don't guess we're doing anything. I'm sorry. I'm very tired. I know you are too."

Casey stared out the windshield. "Have a good weekend. I'll see you on Monday."

129.*As far as dismissals went, Leslie was sure she'd had colder ones. She just couldn't think of any at the moment. So she nodded, torn between trying to explain things to Casey and her need to get home to Michael. Because it was time. It was time she told him. She needed to get this over with. And she wanted to do it without Casey knowing. She didn't want her to feel guilty. She didn't want her to feel pressured. She didn't want the fact that she'd ended things with Michael to be a consideration when it came to their own relationship.

"Casey-"

"Goodnight, Leslie." She lowered her head. "Please," she whispered. "Just goodnight."

Leslie sighed. "Okay."

She got out, closing the door quietly behind her. Casey turned and their eyes met for a second, then Casey drove off, leaving her standing there, the memory of those haunted blue eyes etched in her brain.

She clenched her hands into fists, watching the red taillights of Casey's truck fade from view. "Oh, Casey," she whispered. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

Michael will have to wait.

She simply couldn't leave things like they were with Casey. So she hurried to her car, speeding away down the street after Casey.