Stacy stood and crossed to the counter. "It's probably cold. Want me to microwave it?"

Jane shook her head. "I'll take it as is."

Stacy set it on the table along with a bag containing two blue-berry scones and a bran m.u.f.fin. "Your

choice," she said, handing her a napkin.

Jane stared at her sister. "This was so sweet."

"Surprised?"

"Frankly? Stunned. What gives?"

Stacy shrugged and helped herself to a scone. "Figured somebody had to take care of you. Might as well

be me."

Jane took the remaining scone, uncertain how to react but touched by her sister's concern. She sipped the espresso drink and made a sound of pleasure. "The first thing I'm doing after I have this baby is drink a triple latte, fully loaded."

"The sacrifices women make."

Jane concurred and they dug into the scones, consuming them quickly. When Jane had ingested every last crumb, she eyed the m.u.f.fin.

"Go for it," Stacy said. "You're pregnant. Doesn't that mean you're eating for two?"

"That's right," Jane said reaching for the pastry, "I almost forgot." They both knew that wasn't true, but

also that she had eaten dangerously little since Ian had been arrested. "Want half?" she asked.

Stacy declined and Jane cut herself a portion of the huge pastry, slipped Ranger a chunk, then ate while Stacy finished her coffee.

"Have you thought about what I told you last night?" Jane asked when she had finished.

"A little. I plan on running your theory by Mac this morning."

Jane leaned toward her sister, desperate to convince her. "I know I'm right, Stacy. I'm certain of it."

"Jane, I-" Stacy bit the words back, expression turning grim "We need to talk."

"I don't like the way you said that."

"You'll like what I have to say even less."

Jane set down her coffee cup, chest tightening. "Crafty, sis. Getting me to eat before the bad news."

"I did it for junior." She cleared her throat. "Last night I... There's something I haven't told you."

"All this verbal tiptoeing is scaring me. Just spit it out."

"All right. Mac told me this story from his days in Vice. They used this snitch named Doobie. Apparently,

he's a creepy little dude, but that's what makes him a good source. One day he was whining to Mac about his life, the way it had turned out. He blamed it all on an incident he'd been part of years before, when he was in his twenties.

"He claimed to have been out on a boat with a friend. Drinking and joy riding. Cutting up." Stacy met Jane's eyes. "The friend deliberately hit a girl in the water."

For several moments Jane simply stared at her sister, her words, their meaning, sinking in.

She had been right, all these years.

I did it on purpose. To hear your screams.

I'm closer than you think.

"A name," Jane managed, fighting to maintain equilibrium. "Did he give you a-"

"No. The snitch refused. He claimed he was still frightened of this guy. Said his family was wealthy. Had big-time connections."

"It all makes sense." Jane's voice shook. "How he got away with it. A wealthy, well-connected family.

One willing to look the other way. Anyone who knew was either intimidated into silence or paid for it. "Of course," she continued, excited. Hopeful for the first time in days. "We need to find this snitch. We need a name. That'll lead to evidence that he murdered-"

"We are not doing anything, Jane. I'm following up on this. I'm the cop, you're the civilian. Period."

"But-"

"Sorry, sis." She softened her tone. "I'll find this guy. Whoever he is. And I'll stop him."

Jane gazed at her sister. "And Ian?"

Her sister's expression altered slightly and a p.r.i.c.kle of apprehension crawled up Jane's spine. "You don't

believe me, do you? About Ian being innocent? About the boat captain being the one who-"

"There's another victim, Jane. Lisette Gregory."

Jane stared at her, not fully comprehending. "Lisette? What do you mean, another...victim?"

Stacy reached across the table and clasped her hand tightly. "Lisette was found dead. Murdered."

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"No." She yanked her hand free and jumped to her feet, knocking over her coffee in the process. The

liquid pooled on the table, then leaked off the edge. "No!"

"The evidence points to Ian-"

"It's not true. It's not!"

She began to shake. She curled her arms across her middle and squeezed her eyes shut. She pictured

pretty Lisette, funny, insecure, too trusting for her own good. She thought of each of her subjects as a friend. She supposed she felt that way because of the intimate nature of her work-in sharing their innermost fears, they bonded on a level some sisters never reached.

Lisette. Dead. Murdered.

It couldn 't be true.

Jane crossed to the back window. The sunny day mocked her. How could the sun shine when such evil

flourished unchecked? When a lovely life could be violently extinguished?

"I didn't want to tell you last night," Stacy continued, "not at the opening and not...after."

"Last night. That's why you were asking me about her."

"Yes. I recognized her. Until then we didn't know her ident.i.ty."

Jane struggled for calm. The peace of mind she had felt only twenty minutes ago seemed a figment of her imagination. Laughable, considering her current- "No," she said again, realization hitting her. She swung to face her sister. "Ian couldn't have killed Lisette,

He's in jail, Stacy. This proves he's innocent!"

Stacy took a step toward her, expression pitying. "We found her after he was arrested. But the autopsy proved she was killed the same day as Marsha Tanner."

Jane fought to come to grips with what Stacy was telling her. That Lisette had been murdered. The same

day as Marsha had been. That Ian was a suspect.

"Why, Stacy? Why do you think he had anything to do with this?"

"I can't tell you that."

"He's my husband. She was my friend. I deserve to know."

"I'm not part of the investigation. Because of my relationship to Ian."

"But you have still have access to it, don't you? Tell me, Stacy, please."

Stacy jammed her hands into her pockets. "She was a patient of Ian's. The death was similar to the

others."

"That's not evidence. I'm not even a cop and I know that." She narrowed her eyes. "How did she die?"

"He broke her neck. It was someone she knew and trusted. No signs of a struggle. We found her near

Fair Park. In a Dumpster."

Lisette, in a Dumpster. Pretty, bright, vulnerable Lisette.

It hurt almost more than she could bear.

Jane brought a hand to her stomach, feeling ill. She found a chair, sat and brought her head between her

knees.