"Don't tell me you didn't think about going back to talk to that guy."

"No," he said, averting his eyes.

"Trey, you're eighteen, you can do what you want, but I'm telling you to stay out of it."

Trey glared at him.

"You're not going to listen to me, are you? What are your plans? How are you going to find her? You don't know anything about her life as Ashleigh, and you d.a.m.n well better not go back to Ryan's apartment."

"I have to do something!"

Sean sympathized with the love-struck teen. If it were him, he would have gotten into far more trouble if he were looking for his missing ex-girlfriend.

"Do you have a picture of Kirsten?"

"The same one you have, but wallet size."

"Good. Get a list of all the hospitals and clinics in Manhattan and Brooklyn. Show her picture to several staff members; see if anyone has seen her."

"The police sent out a notice to all hospitals," he said.

"Yes, and so did I. But some of these places get busy; they might not have made the connection. And in her message, she said she couldn't walk. She might have broken her leg or sprained her ankle, which means she may have gone to a clinic to get it looked at."

"There have to be hundreds of those places-it would take all week to go to all of them."

"Start in Brooklyn closest to Sunset Park. That's where the party was. Work your way out from there."

"She said she could see a bridge," Trey said.

Smart. "Good point. Find clinics near the bridges leading out of Brooklyn. She also said it was a nice place, so the neighborhood may be a bit upscale."

Trey nodded. "Okay, I can do that. Do you really think it'll help find her?"

"Yes, it gives us one more avenue." He got out his wallet and handed Trey all but a few of his business cards. "Give these out. Tell people to call me if they remember anything after you leave, got it?"

"Got it."

Sean waited across from Ryan's apartment to make sure that Trey didn't circle around and go back. Sean considered going up himself-he didn't think Ryan knew anything more, but he needed a lesson in how to treat women. Trey hadn't quite figured out what "a little action" at a rave meant, but Sean knew exactly what Ryan was doing. Had he been the one to drug her? Would he do it again to another girl?

Sean crossed the street and went back up to Ryan's apartment. He didn't need to be buzzed in-the buzzer was a standard electronic gadget that Sean easily bypa.s.sed.

Ryan was leaving with a basket of laundry. "Hey," he said, nervous.

Sean grabbed the basket and dropped it to the floor. He got in Ryan's face until Ryan backed up against the wall.

"I don't like you," Sean said. "You use women without a thought."

"I-I d-didn't," Ryan stuttered. "Sh-sh-she was willing. I swear."

"Did you drug her?"

"No!"

"I know she was high on something."

"Everyone was. The drinks were spiked. It was a really wild party, but I swear, I didn't give her anything. I wouldn't do that! P-p-please believe me."

Ryan tried to squirm away and Sean put his forearm across the skinny kid's chest and held him there.

"You may not have given her a mickey, but you sure took advantage of it."

"I'm s-sorry!"

"I have a lot of friends. I'm putting the word out on you. If you ever show up at another rave and take advantage of another girl, and I find out, you won't have a d.i.c.k left to screw around with."

Sean turned and walked away, confident that the kid believed everything he'd said.

TWENTY-TWO.

Suzanne was in a fantastic mood after the morning interrogation of Wade Barnett, serving the warrants, and a late working lunch with Vic Panetta to compare notes. She had the computer from Barnett's apartment with deleted files her cybercrimes team was confident they could rebuild; and at Barnett's office, Panetta had found a coffee mug with a picture of Wade and Alanna Andrews smiling with a heart.

The only little tickle of doubt that crept into her mind was why Barnett would delete his home computer files but not destroy the mug that proved he'd had a relationship with the first victim, or the half-written apology. They also hadn't found the victims' shoes in either place.

Panetta walked back to FBI headquarters with Suzanne from the deli where they'd eaten, and said, "We have a viable suspect; we just need to seal the deal."

"We're arraigning him on perjury Monday morning," Suzanne told Panetta. "He'll make bail, unless we find hard physical evidence in the next thirty-six hours and change the charge to four counts murder."

"Looks like I'll be missing dinner with my family tonight."

"Sorry," Suzanne said without meaning it. Late nights and weekends were the nature of the business, and every cop who ever had a case take ahold of him knew it.

"Time for a lot of legwork. I'll send Hicks and a team out to start interviewing co-workers, friends, and family."

"You take Barnett's side, we'll work the victims' friends on my end. Except Thorpe, Barnett's lawyer, put the quash on talking to Dennis Barnett, the nineteen-year-old brother."

"Why?"

"He stated that the kid was mentally incapacitated. I don't buy it. He's slow, but not severely handicapped. And get this: he told me that he drove his brother to these parties after Wade lost his license for those two DWIs."

"Did he take Wade to the parties in question?"

"I was working him until the d.a.m.n lawyer walked in. I can get a warrant to interview him. I'll probably need a shrink in the room to testify that he wasn't under duress, was competent to answer questions. Dennis Barnett is our single best witness, but he doesn't want to get his brother in trouble."

"You don't think they were working together?" Panetta asked.

"I sat with Dennis for nearly twenty minutes. I don't think the kid can lie; at least, he won't be able to keep it up. He never answered my question about the Sunset Park party, only asked me if his brother was in trouble. If little brother is involved, it won't take long to break him. But the Barnett attorney took him home, and now his mother is freaked out, and I have to find a way to get him back in here while not risking having his testimony tossed. But the important thing is that Wade Barnett is in jail, and he's not getting out until Monday at the earliest."

Panetta headed to his precinct station and Suzanne entered the large federal complex. The only thing that had been enticing about the position she'd been offered in Montana was that the Helena office was so small, she'd likely be on a first-name basis with everyone from the special agent in charge down to the janitor. Here, she considered herself lucky to see a familiar face before she reached her squad.

She'd been a.s.signed to Violent Crimes before 9/11, but after world terrorism breached American sh.o.r.es with such violence, priorities had been shifted to counterterrorism and counterintelligence. When she'd received her commission, there had been well over two hundred agents in New York's Violent Crime Squad, not including the five resident agency field offices. She'd watched as her colleagues were rea.s.signed to other squads, until now there were only thirty-two dedicated VCMT agents at headquarters and a handful of support staff. She'd joked with her cop friend Mac that either she was so bad at her job that they didn't want her anywhere else, or she was so good that they didn't dare take her away from Violent Crimes.

Her messages and emails had stacked up, typical of any day but more so in the middle of a joint task force investigation like the Cinderella Strangler case. She quickly prioritized the messages, responded to the emails that needed immediate answers, and then focused on contacting friends of the victims. She preferred to talk to people in person, because body language often said more than words. She couldn't justify another trip to New Haven to talk to Alanna Andrews's roommate, but Alanna was the girl Barnett seemed to have publicly dated. She could talk to the cousin again-Whitney Morrissey had possibly seen a witness, or the killer, with her cousin that night. Had she finished the sketch? Suzanne made a note to follow up on that. If she had an eyewitness, that would go a long way with the U.S. Attorney.

For the other locals, she split the list between those she wanted to talk to in person-such as the staff at the coffeehouse where Erica Ripley, the second victim, had worked-and those she was comfortable calling, such as Jessica Bell's roommate. She planned to talk to Josh Haynes again in person. He was the one who'd first mentioned Wade Barnett-but only in connection with the parties, not Barnett's relationship with Jessica Bell. Had he known? Lucy Kincaid thought he'd acted distraught over Jessica's death; had he been in love with her? A "friend with benefits" who got too close? If he had found out that Wade Barnett was sleeping with her, would he have killed her?

That didn't explain the first three victims. But according to Lucy, Wade had met Jessica at Josh Haynes's party.

The rest of the weekend promised to be as busy as her morning, but Suzanne was invigorated. This was the part of the job she liked the best: building a mountain of evidence to convict a killer. She planned on turning over an airtight case to the U.S. Attorney as soon as possible.

She called Alanna's roommate Jill Reeves first, glad she'd gotten her cell phone number so she didn't have to maneuver her way around her hovering mother.

"Hi, Jill. It's Special Agent Suzanne Madeaux from New York. Can I ask you a few more questions?"

"Sure."

"During our investigation, we've been looking into the past relationships of each victim, to see if there is any connection. You indicated that Alanna didn't have a boyfriend, or anyone who made her uncomfortable, when she was killed, correct?"

"Yes."

"What about a past boyfriend?"

"I told the detective that none of her boyfriends were mad at her or anything."

"Were you aware of Alanna's relationship with Wade Barnett?"

"Yeah, but why? You don't think he killed her? Wade?" She sounded skeptical.

"When did they first start seeing each other?"

"I don't know for sure," she said slowly. "Is it important?"

"Yes."

"Well, I think they met that summer Alanna stayed with her cousin. Alanna was really secretive about it, probably because he was so much older."

Suzanne counted back. Alanna would have been seventeen, Barnett twenty-three.

Jill continued. "I know they were really serious when we first moved to New York, about a week before cla.s.ses started. Like for two months they were inseparable."

"Do you know why they broke up?"

"No."

"You were her best friend."

"She wouldn't talk about it."

"A witness told me he cheated on her."

"Well, cheated how?"

"Had s.e.x with another woman?"

"That wouldn't bother her."

Suzanne didn't believe it. "Her rich, handsome, older boyfriend cheating on her wouldn't have fazed her?"

"They had a sort of open relationship."

"You're going to have to explain that."

"Well, an open relationship means-"

"I know what an open relationship is. Why did you qualify it with 'sort of'?"

"At the parties they went to, people had s.e.x with strangers. It was just the thing, and Alanna and Wade used to play these s.e.x games. It's like they were both addicted to it, but they still loved each other. But they had an agreement that it was open only at the raves."

"So if he had s.e.x outside of a rave then that was cheating."

"Yeah. But Alanna never gave me a reason for the breakup specifically. I think she was hurt, whatever it was, then she convinced me to go to the Haunted House. And that's-" Jill's throat hitched. "But Wade sent her this letter and apologized for being a jerk."

"You read the letter?"

"No, just a couple lines."

"Do you have it? Is it with Alanna's things?"

"She tore it up. Oh! She said something when she threw the pieces away. She said she could tolerate a lot, but not lying."

"That helps, thank you."

Suzanne wrapped up that call, then talked to Jessica Bell's roommate. Lauren had heard Jessica mention she knew Wade Barnett, but she'd never met him and didn't think that Jessica was involved with him.

She tried Alanna's cousin Whitney Morrissey, but her voice mail came on. Suzanne left a message, giving her cell phone number since she planned to be in the field, and looked at the clock. It was already after four and she had a hundred things to do. She saw a text message on her cell phone from Sean Rogan. d.a.m.n, he'd called her while she was eating lunch and she'd said she'd call him back. That was two hours ago.

We'll meet you at your office.

She dialed his number.

"Rogan."

"It's Suzanne Madeaux. Sorry, I'm about to leave-I should have called you back. I have interviews all day; just tell me over-"