"I'll have two hotshot DPD detectives as bodyguards."

"Mac's not going to go for it."

"I'll sweet-talk him."

The front bell sounded. "That'll be him," Stacy said dryly. "Give it your best shot."

Jane climbed off the bed and crossed to the intercom. It was, indeed, Mac.

She buzzed him up, then met him at the door, Ranger with her. He stepped into the foyer. "Stacy ready?"

"We both are."

"Excuse me?" He looked past her, toward Stacy, who had emerged from the guest room.

"She thinks she's coming."

"No," Mac said. "No way."

Jane quickly laid out her reasons.

Clearly, he wasn't impressed. "It's not going to happen." Mac looked at Stacy. "Tell her to give up."

Stacy looked amused. "Hardheadedness runs in the family."

"You can't stop me," she said. "The alley behind Big d.i.c.k's. Midnight. I'll drive myself."

Mac looked helplessly at Stacy. She shrugged. "She's made several good points."

"Dammit. I should let you drive yourself."

Jane smiled sweetly. "Anyone else want a coffee for the road?"

They both did and Jane gave the two some privacy while she brewed the coffee. She smiled as she heard them whispering, then Stacy laugh. The sound was husky, part invitation, part pleasure.

About time, she thought. Stacy had longed to meet someone special; she deserved love.

She prepared the three travel mugs, then called the pair to the kitchen. Stacy looked flushed, her mouth

just kissed. Jane averted her gaze, longing spearing through her. For her husband. Their physical relationship. His emotional support.

She missed him terribly.

As if reading her mind, Stacy gave her a quick hug. "It's going to be okay, sis."

It was, Jane told herself as they made their way to Mac's sedan. After tonight she would be one step closer to ending this nightmare. And having her husband-and her life-back.

They spoke little on the drive across town. It had begun to rain shortly after they left the loft. The interior

was silent save for the intermediate swoosh of the wipers.

When they reached Big d.i.c.k's, Mac drove around to the alley entrance. He parked, shut off the car and looked at her. "Wait here. Stacy and I will make certain it's safe."

She agreed, but the moment the two detectives were beyond earshot, she got out of the vehicle. She wasn't about to take the chance of missing Doobie, of having his getting cold feet and skipping out. Not when the answer she had wanted for so long was so close. Not when her and Ian's life depended on that answer.

Jane climbed out of the car. The rain was cold; it stung her cheeks. Heart pounding, she made her way quickly into the dark alley. She heard Stacy and Mac talking. Heard Mac call Doobie's name.

Only silence answered. "We're early?"

"He's late."

"And it had to be raining."

"Got a light?"

"Got it," Stacy responded.

A moment later a beam of light cut through the darkness and rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Mac swore.

"Is that him?"

A second of silence commenced, followed by his terse "Yeah, it's Doobie."

"Is he dead?"

"As a f.u.c.king doornail."

Jane made a sound of denial. No! It couldn 't be.

She hurried forward, stopping short when she saw Mac and Stacy. They squatted beside a p.r.o.ne figure. He lay facedown on the grimy, wet pavement.

Judging by the angle of his head, his neck had been broken.

FIFTY-EIGHT Tuesday, November 11, 2003 6:45 a.m.

The captain stared at them, face growing redder by the moment. He looked like a tick about to pop. Or a firecracker about to explode. That they were in for it was obvious. And it was her fault. Stacy sent Mac an apologetic glance. In the next moment, their captain let loose. "You both are in one big world of hurt! What the h.e.l.l did you think you were doing?"

"We arranged a meeting with the snitch-"

"You involved a civilian! Judas priest!"

"Checking out a tip-"

"On what case? Your sister's?"

Stacy straightened at the sarcasm in his voice. "Yes, sir. I've kept you abreast of her situation, the

threatening messages, the mutilated baby doll left in her loft. And you are aware of her a.s.sistant's murder

yesterday-"

He came out of his seat at that one. "Of course I'm aware. I'm aware of every murder that goes down in my jurisdiction!"

"Of course you are, sir. I simply meant-"

"My detectives are not authorized to mount their own investi-ations."

"You gave me permission to follow up, sir-"

"Shut up, Killian."

She followed him to his feet. What she was about to say would ot be appreciated by her superior. But she had to say it-Doo-ie's death had changed everything for her. It proved-in her mind-that Jane's boater wasn't simply a twisted son of a b.i.t.c.h, e was a cold-blooded killer. "With all due respect, Captain Schulze, I'm beginning to suspect the wrong man's in jail. Ian Westbrook did not kill Elle Vanmeer, Mar-tha Tanner or Lisette Gregory. I believe current events prove the one sending my sister the threatening messages did. He killed Ted Jack-man. And now Doobie, to keep him quiet. Ian Westbrook was set up."

"You're personally involved, Killian!" he shouted. "We've made our arrest. The guilty party's in jail." He drew a breath and swung to face Mac. "I'd expect a little more common sense out of you, MIcPherson."

"Yes, sir." Mac cleared his throat. "However, I believe there is merit to Detective Killian's concern. The man sending Jane West-brook the messages is, in my opinion, dangerous. He has escalated the level of threat. His next step may very well be to physically harm her."

Mac continued. "If the story Doobie told me about the boater was true, and I believe it was, then the person we're dealing with is a psychopath who will not hesitate to kill. He most probably killed Doobie. And Jackman as well.

"That said, however, I don't share Detective Killian's opinion regarding Westbrook's innocence. The evidence supported our ar-rest and I'm sticking by it."

"Finally," the captain muttered, returning to his seat, "sanity."

"Request authorization to continue," Mac said. "I'll check into Doobie's past. His family. Maybe one of them will know this friend. Have a name."

"Fine." Captain Shulze yanked open his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of antacids. He popped a couple of the chalky disks into his mouth, chewing furiously. "Quit speculating and solve it. I want a suspect. And I want him in jail."

"Yes, sir," Mac murmured. "Thank you, Captain." Stacy sent Mac a grateful glance and backed toward the door. Captain Schulze stopped her before she escaped through it. "I've never questioned your priorities, Killian. I don't want to start now. Is that clear?"

She said it was. Crystal clear.