Kovac shook his head. "No one's seen her. No one's heard from her.

We're flashing her picture on television, asking people to call thehotline if they've seen her. Personally, I'm afraid finding someone elsein that car last night was just postponing the inevitable. But, hey," hesaid, dragging himself up out of his chair, "I am, as my second wifeused to call me, the infernal pessimist."

He yawned hugely and consulted his watch.

"Well, GQ, I'm calling it. I can't remember the last time I slept in abed. That's my goal for the night-if I don't pa.s.s out in the shower.

How about you? I can give you a ride back to your hotel."

"What for? Sleep? I gave that up. It was cutting into my anxietyattacks," Quinn said, ducking his gaze. "Thanks anyway, Sam, but I thinkI'll stick to it awhile yet. There's something here I'm just notseeing."

He gestured to the open casebook. "Maybe if I stare at it all a littlelonger .. ."

Kovac watched him for a few moments without saying anything, thennodded.

"Suit yourself. See you in the morning. You want me to pick you up?"

"No. Thanks."

"Uh-huh. Well, good night." He started through the door, then lookedback in. "Say h.e.l.lo to Kate for me. If you happen to talk to her. Quinnsaid nothing. He did nothing for a full five minutes after Kovac left,just stood there thinking Kovac had a h.e.l.l of an eye. Then he went tothe phone and dialed Kate's number.

CHAPTER 28.

"KATE, IT'S ME. Uh-John. Urn, I'm at the office.

Give me a call if you get the chance. I'd like to go over some points inthese victimologies with you. Get your take. Thanks."

Kate stared at the phone as the line went dead and the message lightbegan to flash. A part of her felt guilty for not picking up. A part ofher felt relieved. At the core she ached at the lost opportunity totouch him in some way. A bad sign, but there it was.

She was exhausted, stressed out, overwhelmed, feeling as low as she hadin years .. . and she wanted John Quinn's arms around her. She hadn'ttaken his call precisely for that reason. She was afraid.

What a rotten, unwelcome feeling it was.

The office was silent. She and Rob were the only ones left in theirsection. Rob sequestered in his office down the hall, no doubt writing along and virulent report to file in her personnel jacket. On the otherside of the reception area, in the county attorney's offices, there wereany number of a.s.sistant prosecutors at work preparing for court,strategizing and researching and writing briefs and motions. But for themost part the building was empty. For all intents and purposes, she wasalone.

Her nerves were raw from spending hours listening to the voice of herdead client confessing her fears of being hurt, her fears of beingraped, of being killed, of dying alone, and Kate's own voice rea.s.suringher, promising to look out for her, to get her help, fostering a falsesecurity that had ultimately failed Melanie Hessler in the worstpossible way.

Rob had insisted on playing the tapes over and over, stopping andrewinding in sections, asking Kate the same questions over and over.

As if any of it would make any difference at all. The cops didn't wantto hear about the subtle nuances of Melanie's speech. All they wanted toknow was if Melanie had expressed a fear of anyone in particular in thelast few weeks of her life.

He'd been punishing her, Kate knew.

Finally, he'd hit the nerve one time too many. Kate stood, leaned acrossthe table, and pressed stop.

"You've made your point. You've had your revenge. Enough is enough," shesaid quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said it almost as a taunt,without a speck of sincerity. He wouldn't look directly at her.

"I like this office, Rob. I like most of the people I work with. But I'md.a.m.n good at what I do, and I can get another job in a heartbeat.

I won't take you trying to manipulate me and punish me.

"Now you'll excuse me," she went on. "Because I've just had the third worst twenty-four hours of my life and I feel like I'm on the verge of apsychotic break. I'm going home. Call if you don't want me to comeback." He hadn't said a word as she walked out. At least she hadn't heard him for the pulse roaring in her ears. G.o.d knew she probablydeserved to have him fire her, but there simply wasn't any tact left inher. All pretense of manners and social bulls.h.i.t had been sc.r.a.ped away,leaving nothing but raw emotion.

She felt it flooding through her still, as if some vital artery hadruptured inside her. She felt as if she might choke on it, drown in it.

And all she wanted was to find Quinn and fall into his arms.

She'd worked so hard to put her life back together, piece by piece on anew foundation, and now that foundation was shifting. No.

Worse-she'd discovered it was built directly over the fault line of herpast, just covering up. Not new, not stronger, just a lie she'd toldherself every day for the last five years: that she didn't need JohnQuinn to feel complete.

Tears welled in her eyes, and despair yawned through her, leaving heraching and empty and alone and afraid. And G.o.d, she was so tired. Butshe choked the tears back and put one foot in front of the other. Gohome, regroup, have a drink, try to sleep. Tomorrow was another day.

She pulled her coat on, scooped up her file on Angie, grabbed her mailand her messages and the faxes that had piled up in the tray during theday, and dumped it all into her briefcase. She reached to turn the desklamp off, but her hand strayed to the shelves, and she plucked out thelittle framed photo of Emily.

Sweet, smiling little cherub in a sunny yellow dress. The future brightbefore her. Or so anyone with ordinary human arrogance would havethought.

Kate wondered if tucked away somewhere in someone's old shoe box theremight be a similar photograph of Angie Dimarco .. . or Melanie Hessler .

.. Lila White, Fawn Pierce, Jillian Bondurant.

Life didn't come with any guarantee. There'd never been a promise madethat couldn't be broken. She knew that firsthand. She'd made too manywith the best of intentions, then watched them crack and come apart.

"I'm sorry, Em," she whispered. She pressed the picture to her lips fora good-night kiss, then tucked the frame back into its hiding place,where the cleaning woman would find it and dig it back out.

She let herself out of the office and locked the door behind her. A vacuum cleaner was running in the office across from hers. Down thehall, Rob Marshall's door was closed. He might still have been there,plotting how to screw her out of her severance pay. Or he might havegone home to-to what? She didn't even know if he had a girlfriendor aboyfriend, for that matter. Thursday could have been his bowling leaguenight for all she knew about him. He didn't have any close personalfriends within the department. Kate had never socialized with himoutside the obligatory office Christmas party. She wondered now if hehad someone to go home to and complain to about that b.i.t.c.h from theoffice.

The snow had finally stopped, she noticed as she took the skyway to theFourth Street ramp. Six inches total, she'd heard someone say.

The street below was a mess that city crews would clear away overnight,though this time of year they might decide to leave it and hope for acouple of warm days to save the city some money for the storms that weresure to come in the next few months.

She pulled her keys out and folded them into her fist, the longest,sharpest one protruding between her index and middle fingers-a habitshe'd developed living in the D.C. suburbs. The ramp was well lit, butnot busy this time of night, and it always made her edgy walking aroundin it alone.

More so tonight, after all that had gone on.

Between the murders and the lack of sleep, her paranoia was runninghigh.

A shadow failing between cars, the sc.r.a.pe of a footstep, the suddenthump of a door-her nerves twisted tight every time. The 4Runner seemeda mile away.

Then she was in it, doors locked, motor running, heading home, one layerof tension peeling away. She tried to focus on letting the knots out ofher shoulders. Pajamas, a drink, and bed. She'd drag her briefcase therewith her and sit propped up by pillows on the sheets still rumpled fromlovemaking.

Maybe she would change the sheets.

The enterprising guy from down the block kept a blade on the front ofhis pickup five months a year and supplemented his income plowingdriveways.

He had plowed the alley. Kate would write him a check and leave it inhis mailbox tomorrow.

She drove into the garage, remembering too late the burned-out light.

Swearing under her breath, she dug the big flashlight out of her glovecompartment, then climbed down from the truck, juggling too much stuff.

The smell hit her nose just a second before her foot hit the soft,squishy pile.

"Oh, s.h.i.t!" Literally. "s.h.i.t!"

"Kate?"

The voice came from toward the house. Quinn's voice.

"I'm in here!" she called back, fumbling with the briefcase and theflashlight and her purse.

"What's wrong? I heard you swearing," he said, coming in.

"I just stepped in a pile of s.h.i.t."

"What-Jesus, I smell it. That must have been some dog."

The flashlight clicked on and she shined it down at the mess. "It couldn't have been a dog. The door was shut. Gross!"

"That looks human," Quinn said. "Where's your shovel?"

Kate flashed the beam of light at the wall. "Right there. My G.o.d, you

think someone came into my garage and did this?"

"You have a more viable theory?" he asked.

"I just can't imagine why anyone would do that."

"It's a sign of disrespect."

"I know that. I mean, why to me? Who do I know who would do something

that strange, that primitive?"

"Who've you p.i.s.sed off lately?"

"My boss. But somehow I can't envision him squatting in my garage. Nor

would I want to." She limped outside with him, stepping only with thetoe of her soiled boot, trying not to smear more feces on her garagefloor.

"Do your clients know where you live?"

"If any of them do, it's not because I gave them the information.

They have my office number-which forwards to my house machine after

hours-and they have my cell phone number for emergencies.

That's it. My home number is unlisted, not that that would necessarily stop anyone from finding me. It isn't that hard to do if you know how."

Quinn dumped the mess between the garage and the neighbor's privacy

fence. He cleaned the shovel off in a s...o...b..nk while Kate tried to do

the same with her boot.

"This is just the exclamation point at the end of my day," she grumbled as they went back into the garage to put the shovel away.

She shone the light around to see if anything was missing. Nothing seemed to be.

"Have you had any odd things happen lately?"

She laughed without humor. "What about my life lately isn't odd?"

"I mean vandalism, hang-up calls, strange mail, anything like that?"

"No," she said, then automatically thought of the three hang-up calls last night. G.o.d, was it just last night? She'd attributed them to Angie.