He kissed her cheeks. "Thanks. Why did you buy such crappy chairs?"

"They won't be crappy when they're fixed."

"If you say so. I like the table. Is that barn wood?"

"It is."

"Built to last."

She finished stuffing the chops, slid them into the oven, and stepped out on the deck. "Oh, look how the cleaner brings out the grain. It just needed some tending."

"It's got some dings and scratches," Xander told her.

"It's called character. And Jenny said she could fix anything that needed fixing. I don't want to spoil anything, Mason, but I thought if we could talk about what you did, found out, think since meeting with Chief Winston, we wouldn't have it hanging over us at dinner."

He gave her a long look, then nodded. "I can't tell you much you don't already know. All indications are Donna Lanier was abducted from the parking lot shortly before midnight on Friday. Her car was locked, hasn't been moved since she parked it when she came on shift at four. Three other employees worked until closing. One, Maxie Upton, came out the back of the building alone a few minutes before Donna, Gina Barrows, and Brennan Forrester. Routinely Maxie parks in that same section of the lot, as most employees do, but her car was in the shop. Yours," he said to Xander.

"Yeah, she drove in on a flat just after I closed, and had four tires as bald as my uncle Jim. I wasn't going to let her drive around on them, made her a deal. I'd work the price of the tires down, take her to work-and she'd call her father to pick her up. She was going to walk, and after what happened to Marla, I wasn't having her walking home or to a friend's alone at midnight."

"She's lucky you provide such personal customer service."

"I've known her since she was . . ." Xander straightened from his slouch against the rail. "Are you saying he was looking to take her? Was waiting for Maxie to walk to her car?"

"It's possible. I lean toward probable. She's younger, blonde, more like the first victim physically than Donna. I talked to her when Chief Winston did a follow-up. Her father wasn't waiting when she came out, and she was alone out there for about twenty seconds-and now says she got nervous, thought about going back in. She thought it was because you'd spooked her about not walking, not being alone. Then her father came, and she didn't think any more about it."

"You said Donna came out with Gina and Brennan."

"Just after Maxie's father picked her up. And they walked off together-they're in a relationship-leaving Donna locking up."

"He took Donna because she was there?" Naomi asked.

"There's a reason we don't consider a serial until there are three like crimes."

"Mason."

"But I believe the same person took Donna. I believe he's an opportunist-he saw an opportunity with Marla Roth, took it. He saw one with Donna, took it. At the same time he was in that lot or close by, he was most certainly lying in wait, which tells me he'd observed the routine of that restaurant, and I believe he'd probably selected his target. Circumstances caused him to miss that opportunity. He took the next."

"Christ." Xander turned away, stared hard out over the water.

"There's a young woman, and her parents, who are never going to forget a set of bald tires or the man who demanded a promise. Chief Winston has already looked into like crimes, but I'm going to look again, narrowing the parameters, and adding in missings. He has deputies, and rangers, checking rental houses and cabins within a twenty-five-mile radius."

"Because he needs a place," Naomi stated.

Like a cellar, an old root cellar deep in the woods.

"Yeah. I'm not discounting a local, but I respect Winston's firm opinion that this is an outsider-and the low crime rate helps support it. Still, he'll take a harder look at individuals in the area."

"No one believes it's someone they know, someone they're close to," Naomi said. "Until it is."

"He's a good cop. Smart, thorough, and not so territorial he won't take help from outside. He's doing all he can do. For now, I can help him do more. I reached out to one of our geeks, and he's getting names on the rentals-owners, tenants. We'll run those in addition to the knock-on-doors. I'm sorry. I wish there were more."

"You came." Naomi went to him, put her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. "That's more. You'll stay a few days?"

"Tonight, at least. Maybe tomorrow. I want to get out of this suit. I've got a bag in the car, if you tell me where I'm bunking."

"It's not much more than bunking now. A real bed next visit, I swear. Let's get your bag, and I'll show you." She glanced at Xander. "I'll be right back, help you get the table inside."

Alone, Xander looked out at the water, into oncoming evening. Her brother agreed to stay the night, he thought, because he expected to find a body in the morning.

- After the meal, and the fancy coffee Naomi made in her fancy machine, Xander rose. "I'm going to go on."

"Oh."

"You've got stuff. I've got stuff." And with an FBI agent sleeping down the hall, she'd be safe. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, but-"

He just pulled her to her feet, and into a hard, hot kiss. Maybe it was a little like marking his territory, with her brother right there, but he wasn't sorry about it.

"Thanks for dinner. Later," he said to Mason, and walked out.

"He didn't have to leave on my account," Mason began. "My sharp deduction skills ascertained he's sleeping here."

"He wanted to give us time alone, and he wants to go be with Loo. His business partner. She and Donna are close friends." Automatically, she began clearing dishes.

"Sit down a minute. Just for a minute," Mason said, taking her hand. "I've got to ask. How serious is it with you and the mechanic?"

"You say that like he doesn't have a name."

"I'm working on it. Give me some room. My vagabond hermit of a sister suddenly has a big house in the middle of rehab, has a dog, and is sleeping with a guy I just met. It's a lot in a short time."

"It doesn't feel as short when you're in it. I'm not going to get all"-she circled her index fingers in the air-"and say I recognized the house. But I recognized the potential of it, and its potential for me. I didn't know I was ready to plant until I saw it, then I was ready. The dog wasn't going to happen, and then he did. Now I can't imagine not having him around."

"He's a great dog."

Even more, she thought, he'd become her family. "I'd have taken him to the shelter if Xander hadn't blocked me, every time."

"Why didn't he take the dog?"

"He just lost his."

"Ah." Mason nodded, understanding completely. "You haven't answered the actual question. We call that deflection."

"I'm not deflecting, I'm working up to it. It's more serious than I planned. More serious than I thought I'd want, and more serious than I'm sure I can handle. But he's . . ."

She wasn't sure she could explain it, to him or to herself.

"He makes me feel more than I thought I ever could or would. He figured out who I was. He had Simon Vance's book on his wall of books-you have to see that wall of books. I have pictures."

"Check out my shocked face," Mason said, and made her laugh.

"Anyway. Apparently I didn't hide my reaction to seeing Vance's book as well as I thought, and Xander figured it out. But, Mason, he didn't say anything to me, or change toward me. He didn't tell anyone, even his closest friend. Do you know what that means to me?"

"Yeah." Now Mason covered her hand with his. "And it goes a long way for me deciding he has a name. I liked him, and I know that matters to you. And I'm going to be up-front because you matter and tell you I ran him."

"Oh, for God's sake."

"You're my sister, you're my family. And we share something most don't, most can't understand, and shouldn't. I had to do it, Naomi. A couple of bumps in his late teens, early twenties, if you care."

"Which I don't."

He rolled over that. "Disturbing the peace, destruction of property-bar fight that reads like he didn't start it, but sure as hell finished it. No time-plenty of speeding tickets up until he hit about twenty-five. And that's it. I'm going to add I feel better knowing he had a couple of bumps, got them out of his system. I like knowing he can finish a fight. No marriages or divorces, no children on record. He's sole owner of the garage, half owner of the bar, and half owner of the building that holds the bar and an apartment. Winston thinks highly of him."

"Are you done now?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now we're going to get these dishes done, FaceTime the uncles, then you get the grand tour."

"Okay. I've got one more thing, but I'm really done. Does he make you happy?"

"He does, and that was a shock to the system. And he makes me, or helps me, think beyond the moment. I'd gotten too much in the habit of only right now. I like thinking about tomorrow."

"Then I may start calling him Xander. But what kind of name is that anyway?"

"Really, Mason Jar?"

"Shut up," he said, and pushed away from the table to help her clear.

- He waited until just after two in the morning to drive the quiet roads to the woods near the bluff. He parked on the shoulder.

Maybe they had patrols out at this hour, looking for the likes of him. But in his considerable experience it was far too early in the game for it, considering the two-bit town and half-ass police force.

And this wouldn't take long.

He had her wrapped in a standard sheet of plastic. Trial and error had proven this method worked best. He had to put some muscle into hauling her out and up over his shoulder-fireman's carry. He took some pride in being stronger than he looked, but she was a heftier package than he preferred.

All in all she'd been a disappointment. No fight or sass in her, not after the first couple hours anyway. It just cut into his fun when they didn't try to scream or beg, when they stopped fighting, and she'd gone downhill so fast he'd nearly killed her out of sheer boredom.

Too much like that scrawny old bitch he'd grabbed up in godforsaken Kansas when he couldn't get the one he'd had his eye on.

Or that fat-ass in Louisville. Or- No point in dwelling on past mistakes, he assured himself as he shifted the dead weight on his shoulder and used the hunter's light on his hat to light the track.

He just had to stop repeating them, remember patience was a virtue.

He'd already scoped his ground, using Naomi's website pictures as a guide, and gratefully dropped Donna's body between the track and a nurse log. With practiced moves, he rolled it out of the plastic, studied it while he folded the sheet to take with him.

Waste not, want not.

He took out his phone, switched to camera mode, and took his last souvenir pictures of Donna Lanier.

Then he walked away without giving the woman he'd killed another thought. She was the past, and he had his path set for the future.

He cruised the road just far enough to bring the house on the bluff, its spreading silhouette against a starstruck sky, into view.

Sleep well, Naomi, he thought. Rest up. I'll be seeing you soon, and we're going to have some fun.

Twenty-four.

A young couple from Spokane, with a baby in a backpack, found the body on a nature hike on Monday's sparkling afternoon.

Within minutes, Sam Winston stood over the body of a woman he'd known for three decades, and had liked every day of them.

Minutes later, Mason made his way through the woods to join him.

"I had to hope it wouldn't end this way."

"I'm sorry, very sorry, for your loss, Chief."

"She's everyone's loss. Well." Determined to do his best for her, Sam rubbed his hands over his face, shook it off. "Bound and gagged, naked, like Marla. Wounds are worse-he cut and beat her more severely."

"He may be escalating. Or . . . it may be frustration that she wasn't his first choice."

"He brushed out any footprints-you can see how he stirred up the dirt, the layer of pine needles. So he's careful. He had to carry her to this spot, most likely from the road-down the track. She's easily one-fifty, so he's got some muscle."

Careful to touch nothing, disturb nothing, Mason crouched down, studied the wounds, the position of the body.

"She's not posed, no attempt to cover or bury her. No remorse, nothing symbolic. He was simply finished, and dumped the body here, walked away."

"She didn't mean anything to him."

"No. The first victim, she was laid out differently-the way her arms reached out. And he left her shoes. She was more important-may be a surrogate. Younger, blonde, attractive, slim."

"Like Maxie would've been."

"Yes. We're not that far from my sister's house. Is this trail popular?"

"It gets some use, yeah. A little farther west, toward the park, into the park, you get more hikers, but this area gets visitors pretty regularly. He wanted her found, and directly."

"I agree. Do you mind if I take some pictures?"