Like h.e.l.l, she thought. Wanna-bes like Vanlees took note of everythingabout the cops they encountered in the real world. She would have bet hehad her tag number written down somewhere. He sure as h.e.l.l recognizedthe make and model. This little show had been about impressing her. GilVanlees: Man of Action. On his toes. On the job.

Ever diligent. G.o.d help us all.

Liska shook her head. "That's quite the gun you've got there, Gil," shesaid, moving toward him. "Don't suppose I've got to ask if you've got apermit for it?"

The eyes went a little cold and the smile sagged out of his face. Hedidn't like having her reprimand him. He didn't want to be reminded hisuniform wasn't the real deal. He stuck the nose of the Python under hisbelt and eased the gun into place alongside his gut. "Yeah, I got apermit."

Liska forced a smile. "That's some piece of hardware. Not really a goodidea to come up behind people with it, Gil. You never know what mighthappen. Reflexes a little too sharp that day and you blow somebody away.

That'd be a bad deal all the way around, you know."

He wouldn't meet her eyes now, like a kid being scolded for getting intohis father's tools.

"You say reporters have been nosing around here? No one's been in thehouse though, right?"

His attention shifted further away, and he frowned harder. Liska glancedover her shoulder. Michele Fine stood at the bottom of the steps withher messy pile of black clothing clutched to her. She looked offended byVanlees's presence.

"Mr. Vanlees?" Liska prompted, turning back to him as Michele went intothe kitchen. "No one's been in the house that you know of, right?"

"Right." He moved back a step toward the door, his hand resting on theb.u.t.t of the Python. He kept his gaze on Michele, watching her as shedumped her clothes on the counter that divided kitchen and eating area."I gotta go," he said glumly. "I was just keeping an eye out, that'sall."

Liska followed him out onto the stoop. "Hey, Gil, I'm sorry if I snappedat you back there. You got the drop on me. Shook me up, you know."

He didn't bite this time. She had questioned his honor, impugned hisstatus as a peer, bruised his ego. The rapport she had built two daysago teetered on its foundation. She had expected it to hold up better,and found its fragility telling. Another point to bring up with Quinn:Vanlees's self-image.

He barely looked at her, pouting. "Sure. No problem."

"I'm glad you're keeping an eye out," she said. "You heard about the community meeting tonight, right? You might want to drop by that if youget a chance."

Liska watched him walk away, wondering. From a distance Vanlees lookedlike a city cop in his blue-over-black uniform. It would be an easything for a guy in a uniform to get a woman to stop for him, talk tohim. All three of Smokey Joe's victims had vanished with no report of ascream, no suspicious activity in the area. On the other hand, no onehad mentioned seeing a uniform in the vicinity either.

"I'm ready."

She started a little at Michele Fine's announcement, and turned to findher standing in the doorway, her clothes crammed into a plastic bag fromRainbow Foods.

"Right. Great. I'll drive you back."

She locked up the house, Fine waiting for her at the bottom of thesteps.

Vanlees had disappeared down the winding path, but not from Liska'smind.

"You know that guy?" she asked as they settled into the car.

"Not personally," Fine said, hugging her Rainbow bag as if it were aninfant. "Like I said before, who pays any attention to the losers?"

No one, Liska thought as she put the car in gear. And while no one waspaying any attention to them, the losers were allowed to brood andfantasize and imagine getting back at all the women who didn't want themand would never love them.

CHAPTER 13.

" SO, what do you think, John?" Sabin asked. "Is the girl holding backon us?"

They sat in a conference room in the county attorney's offices: Quinn,Sabin, Kate, and Marshall. Quinn looked at Kate, sitting across from himwith her jaw set and fire in her eyes, plainly telegraphing violence ifhe stepped on the wrong side of this argument.

Just another minefield to cross. He kept his gaze on hers.

"Yes." The fire flared brighter. "Because she's afraid. She's probablyfeeling that the killer somehow knows what she's doing, as if he'swatching her when she's talking with the police or describing him toyour sketch artist. It's a common phenomenon. Isn't that right, Kate?"

"Yes," A banked fire in the eyes now. Reserving the right to burn himlater. He liked it too much that she could still feel that stronglyabout him. Negative emotion was still emotion. Indifference was thething to dread.

"A sense of omniscient evil," Marshall said, nodding wisely. "I've seenit time and again. It's fascinating. Even the most logical, sensiblevictims experience it."

He played with the VCR remote, running the tape back to the beginning ofAngie Dimarco's initial interview, which had occurred within an hour ofher being picked up. They had already gone through it. Freezing the tapeat significant points, when Marshall and Sabin would then turn and stareat Quinn, waiting for a revelation like the disciples sitting at thefeet of Christ.

"She's clearly terrified here," Marshall said, repeating with authoritywhat Quinn had said the first time they'd run through it. "You can seeher shaking. You can hear it in her voice. You're absolutely right,John."

John, My buddy, my pal, my colleague. The familiarity rubbed Quinn thewrong way, even though it was something he purposely cultivated.

He was tired of people pretending to know him, and even more tired ofthe people overly impressed with him. He wondered how impressed RobMarshall would be to know he woke up in the middle of most nights,shaking and sick because he couldn't handle it anymore.

Marshall edged up the volume at a point where the girl lost her temperand shouted, voice quavering, "I don't know him! He set a f.u.c.king bodyon fire! He's some kind of f.u.c.king psycho!"

"She's not faking that," he p.r.o.nounced quietly, squinting hard at thetelevision screen, as if that would sharpen his myopic vision and allowhim to see into the girl's mind.

Sabin looked displeased, as though he had been hoping for some excuse toput the girl on the rack. "Maybe she'd feel safer behind bars."

"Angie hasn't done anything wrong," Kate snapped. "She never had toadmit she even saw this creep. She needs our help, not your threats."

Color starting creeping up from the county attorney's collar.

"We don't want an adversarial situation here, Ted," Quinn said calmly.

Mr. Laid Back. Mr. Coolheaded.

"The girl set herself up that way," Sabin argued. "I had a bad feelingabout her the minute I set eyes on her. We should have called her bluffright off the bat. Let her know we're not s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around here."

"I think you handled her perfectly," Quinn said. "A kid like Angiedoesn't trust the system. You needed to give her a friend, and Kate wasthe ideal choice. She's genuine, she's blunt, she's not full of c.r.a.p andphony sympathy. Let Kate handle her. You won't get anything out of herwith threats. She expects threats; they'll just bounce off her."

"If she doesn't give us something we can use, there's nothing tohandle," Sabin came back. "If she can't give us anything, then there'sno point in wasting county resources on her."

,cit's not a waste," Kate insisted.

"What do you think here, John?" Marshall asked, pointing to the screenwith the remote. He had run the tape back again. "Her use of personalp.r.o.nouns-I don't know him. He's some kind of psycho. Do you think itcould be significant?"

Quinn blew out a breath, impatience creeping in on his temper.

"What's she going to call the guy-it?"

One corner of Kate's mouth twitched.

Marshall sulked. "I've taken courses in psycholinguistics. The use oflanguage can be very telling."

"Agreed," Quinn offered, recovering diplomatically. "But there is such athing as overa.n.a.lyzing. I think the best thing you can do with this girlis step back and let Kate deal with her."

"Dammit, we need a break," Sabin said almost to himself. "She barelyadded anything to that sketch today. She stood right there and looked atthe guy, and the picture she gives us could be anybody."

"It might be all her mind is allowing her to see," Kate said. "What doyou want her to do, Ted? Make something up just so you believe she'strying harder?"

"I'm sure that's not what Mr. Sabin was suggesting, Kate," Marshall saidwith disapproval.

"I was being facetious to make a point, Rob."

"She's valuable to the investigation regardless," Quinn said. "We ca.n.u.se the threat of her. We can leak things to the press. Make it soundlike she's told us more than she has. We can use her any number of ways.

At this point she doesn't have to be a Girl Scout and she doesn't haveto have total recall."

"My fear here is that she's lying about the whole thing," Sabinadmitted, Edwyn n.o.ble's skepticism having taken root.

Kate tried not to roll her eyes. "We've been over that. It doesn't makeany sense. If all she wanted was money, she would have booked it out ofthat park Sunday night and never said a word until the reward wasoffered."

"And if the only thing on her mind was the money," Quinn added, "thenshe'd be going out of her way to give us details. In my experience,greed outranks fear."

"What if she's involved in some way?" Marshall suggested. "To try tothrow us off track or to get inside info-" Kate glared at him. "Don't beabsurd. If she was involved with this creep, then she'd be giving us adetailed sketch of a phantom to chase.

And she isn't privy to any information the Cremator can't read in thepaper."

Marshall looked down at the table. The rims of his ears turned hot pink.

"She's a scared, screwed-up kid," Kate said, rising. "And I have to getback to her before she sets my office on fire."

"Are we done here?" Marshall asked pointedly. "I guess we are.

Kate has spoken."

She looked at him with undisguised dislike and walked out.

Sabin watched her go-his eyes on her a.s.s, Quinn thought-and when she wasout the door said, "Was she this headstrong at the Bureau?"

"At least," Quinn said, and followed her out.

"You're defecting too?" she said as he caught up with her. "You didn'twant to stay and let Rob suck up to you? It's what he's best at."

He flashed her a grin. "You don't think much of your boss. Not thatthat's anything new."

"You don't think much of him either." Kate cast a precautionary glanceback over her shoulder. "Rob Marshall is an obsequious, fussy littlea.s.s-kissing toad. But, in all fairness, he genuinely cares about the jobwe do and he tries to do it justice."

"Yes, well, he is trained in psycholinguistics."

"He's read your book."

Quinn raised his brows. "There are people who haven't?"

The reception area outside the secured boundaries of the majorprosecution unit was vacant. The receptionist had slipped away from herpost behind a sheet of bulletproof gla.s.s. Stacks of the new Yellow Pageshad been left on the floor. The latest issue of Truth & Justice lay onthe end table with half a dozen outdated news magazines.

Kate blew out a breath and turned to face him. "Thank you for backing meup."

Quinn winced. "Did it really hurt that much? G.o.d, Kate."

"I'm sorry. I'm not like you, John. I hate the game-playing that goes onin a case like this. I didn't want to have to ask for your help at all.

But I suppose the least I could do is show some genuine grat.i.tude."

"Not necessary. All I had to do was tell the truth. Sabin wanted asecond opinion and he got it. You were right. That should make youhappy," he said dryly.

"I don't need you to tell me I was right. And as for what would make mehappy: nothing much to do with this case."

"Including my being here."

"I'm not having this conversation with you," she said flatly.

She walked out the door into the hall and took a left, going toward theatrium balcony. There wasn't another soul on the floor. TWENTYPLUSstories filled with people and not one of them convenient for a buffer,She knew Quinn was right behind her. And then he was beside her, hishand on her arm as if he still had some right to touch her.

"Kate, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm not trying to pick a fight.

Really."

He was standing too close, the dark eyes too big, the lashes long andthick and pretty-an almost feminine feature in a face that wasquintessentially rugged and male. The kind of face to make the averagewoman's heart Skip. Kate felt something tighten in her chest as she drewa breath. The knuckle of his thumb pressed against the outer swell ofher breast. They both became aware of the contact at the same instant.

"Kate, I_'1 His pager went off and he swore under his breath and let go of her.

Kate stepped away and leaned a hip against the balcony railing, crossingher arms over her chest and trying to ignore the feelings his touch hadaroused. She watched him as he checked the display, swore again, andtraded the pager for a slim cell phone from the pocket of his suitjacket.

The natural light that poured in through the south end of the atriumbrought out the gray in his close-cropped hair. She wondered against herwill if there was a woman back in Virginia worrying about his health andthe level of stress he shouldered day in and day out.

"G.o.dd.a.m.nit, Mccleary, can't you go two hours on this case without af.u.c.king crisis?" he barked into the phone, then listened for a minute.

"There's a lawyer involved. s.h.i.t .. . There's nothing you can do about.i.t now. The interview is screwed .. . Back off and go over the evidenceagain. See if there's anything you can blow out of proportion. Whatabout the tests on that pad of paper? .. . Well, he doesn't know youhaven't got it. For G.o.dsake, use it! .. . No, I'm not coming down. I'mtied up here. Handle it."

Snapping the phone shut, he heaved a sigh and absently rubbed a handagainst. his stomach.

"I thought you'd be unit chief by now," Kate said.

"They offered. I declined. I'm no administrator."