Twenty-Seven.

Erin woke to her phone buzzing. She turned over from the warmth of being beside Roy and grabbed it. She didn't recognize the number yet. Hadn't put it into her contacts. But she knew it was Craig, instinctively, and when she opened the message he had sent she knew that she was right.

Where you at? You're not at the apartment.

She debated how much of a lie she should be telling. It all depended, after all, on what he already knew and what she could get away with. If she could get away with saying that she was out of town at her mother's, that would be great, but that wasn't going to happen. After all, her mother was dead.

On the other hand, the more that she bit off more than she could chew, the more he'd be on to her. If she was hiding one thing, what else was she hiding? She took a plunge and went with a half-truth.

Someone broke into my apartment while I was sleeping. Freaked me out. I'm staying at a hotel until I can get a locksmith to get in there and make sure that it's all rock-solid.

The response came seconds later.

That's a d.a.m.n shame. You want to catch something to eat?

Roy had woken beside her with all the shifting around she was doing, and had promptly looked at the clock and slid out of bed and started to pull on the clothes he'd worn there.

"You have time to get back to your room and change clothes?"

"I have plenty of time, sure."

"Good. I would hate to think you'd be uncomfortable on my account."

"No trouble. Who's that?"

"It's him."

"What's he saying?"

She typed in a response as she spoke. "Wants to meet."

Sure, but I need to catch a shower first.

"And you?"

"Of course I'm going, Roy. It's a risk, sure, but that doesn't mean I can afford to stop doing any of this. At least now I know that he's playing me. I can start to think about what I'm doing strategically, too. I can start to figure out what the right decisions are, not based on a.s.suming that he's your run-of-the-mill sc.u.mbag, but a.s.suming that he's making moves. Smart ones, at that."

"Well, he's at least not making dumb calls, that's to be sure."

"Compared to little old me?"

"Compared to you, he's a genius." Roy gave her an expression of sarcastic disgust. Erin responded with mock hurt. "You're doing fine. Keep in touch, okay? I don't want you to get hurt out there, but I'm not going to stop you. Just make sure that you don't do anything drastic. We can't protect you if you go John McClane on the guy."

Her phone buzzed. "Of course. I'm not an idiot, you know."

"I know. But it bears repeating either way. Just don't get hurt, and don't go too far. That's all I'm asking from you."

He gave her an address. I'll be there in 30 minutes. See you.

She texted back her agreement.

"I'll do my best."

"That's all anyone can ask."

Roy opened the door and blew a kiss back at her. She felt the weight of the words neither of them had said. She had to shower and get dressed, now, or she was going to end up going to breakfast smelling like s.e.x.

She stepped under the water and let the water run off her back. She enjoyed the heat, but she hadn't taken long, luxurious showers since she was a girl. The capacity had been bred out of her by a life of taking quick showers. She let herself enjoy the heat by giving herself six minutes instead of four. She stepped out after five.

She was past the seduction with Craig. Three times in four days would have been a good effort for anyone. But more than that, she didn't have to worry about him dropping her like a hot potato. As far as he was concerned, she was on the hook. She was the prey, and he the hunter. He'd be as surprised as anyone when things turned out not to be that way.

She decided on a sweater and jeans. She remembered dimly that these clothes, specifically, were actually the first normal thing that Roy had seen her in. The thought made her smile. What a strange pattern she was working with.

One of the men making a mess of her emotions had seen her at her worst and decided, it seemed, that she was worth spending a little time with. The other, she'd forced herself on, only to discover that he was looking for her the whole time. She was being played by him, instead, or so he would have his fellow gang members believe.

Where one had only seen her blossom when she got back home, the other would be seeing her shrivel just a bit. What sort of effect would that have? She was interested in finding out, even if she wasn't remotely sure yet.

She was out the door fifteen minutes after Craig's last text and at the address with three minutes to spare. It wasn't a restaurant, which was surprising. It was a laundromat. There was a Mexican place across the street, though, that she'd driven past a few times. Would they even be open this early in the morning? Or was this part of the play?

She waited a while to find out. Five minutes pa.s.sed with nothing to discuss. A few people went in, but nothing that stuck out.

Almost half an hour to the minute after he sent the text, a truck pulled up. The guy in the front seat had a Twins cap pulled low on his face. She could see that he had sharp features and a long nose, but not much beyond that with the tint in the windows.

It was a Chevy, light blue with a white stripe all around the sides. Could have been any car, for certain. But the guy got out, and she got a better look at him, right in time for her phone to buzz.

I gave you the wrong address, my bad.

She knew that wasn't the case. She'd been put there to see what she'd just seen. She wasn't going to take the bait, not completely. But she took a slow pa.s.s behind the back of the truck, long enough to write down the license plate.

So where am I supposed to go?

He sent another address, a few miles away. She pulled out into the street and started going. She had a text off to Roy with the license plate number before she arrived. She wasn't going to pursue it, but that didn't mean that n.o.body was going to.

He was certainly the guy that they'd heard described in the killing, and that meant he had to come in. If Craig had his way, no doubt the guy would be dead by morning. The fact that he could call the man's location thirty minutes out meant that he knew something that they didn't. Possibly even that the man, now in the laundromat., didn't know.

Someone was pulling his strings, telling him where to be and when, and that meant that though it had certainly been his hand on the knife, someone else was responsible for the murders of those girls. All those women and, though it was embarra.s.sing to admit-she should have been objective, cared about all of them equally-most important of all, her sister.

Twenty-Eight.

"Sorry about the trouble."

She already had a cup of coffee waiting for her. Black, no sugar. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel about him being presumptuous enough to order for her, but the idea fit him more than she wanted to admit.

"What trouble?"

"I sent the wrong address."

"Oh, no problem. It happens."

"I hope you didn't drive all the way out there."

"I was running a few minutes behind," she lied. "So I was still driving when I got your text."

He smiled at the waitress, who brought two plates with pancakes stacked higher than was absolutely prudent and set one down in front of her.

"You know you shouldn't text and drive, don't you? It's dangerous. You could get pulled over."

"Bad habit, I know. I've been working on it, though. Hopefully I can stop myself being so foolish in the future."

"Make sure you do," he joked. "Or else. You might be arrested."

He was teasing her with the fact that he knew something that he thought she didn't. Too bad for him that she knew exactly what he was joking about.

"I wouldn't want to have to go into a police station." She faked a shiver, and then a real one took over an instant later. "They seem so scary from the outside. You ever been in one?"

"Once or twice. I used to be a very aggressive jaywalker."

"Oh yeah? They arrest you for jaywalking?"

Craig made an exaggerated expression of uncertainty. "Well, there may have been other circ.u.mstances."

"So now the truth comes out, does it?"

"What? I'm shocked. I'd never try to hide anything from you, Erin."

"No, I don't imagine you would." She gave him a smile that could have flavored a milkshake.

"So someone broke in to your apartment? Sounds scary."

"When it's not you, you mean?"

"Well that goes without saying. When I do it, it's because you liked it."

"Ah. How obvious."

"I hope n.o.body was hurt."

"I'm alright," she answered. She would keep playing as close to the truth as she could, as long as she could, until things looked like they weren't going to keep working that way.

"The guy who broke in, did you see him?"

"No, I was asleep. I just woke up to find the chain on my door busted in and someone had gone through my stuff."

Craig let out a low whistle. "Scary. You could have gotten really badly hurt if the guy was looking to do some damage."

"I know. It just keeps going through my head, like-what if he'd brought a gun? What if he'd decided to-" she blinked and let out a long breath. "You know, like..."

"Oh Jesus, I hadn't even thought of that." Craig took another bite of the slightly-too-high pancake stack and poured more syrup in to fill the hole he'd made.

"I know. It didn't occur to me at first, either. I was just thankful, you know, he didn't steal my computer, or my TV, or anything, and then I just got to thinking about how bad it could have been."

"Yeah, I see why you wouldn't want to stay there any more. You could always stay at my place, though, if you want."

"I couldn't impose, though."

"It wouldn't be any sort of imposition."

She repeated herself a little more firmly. "I couldn't. I need my own s.p.a.ce."

"The place isn't small, you know. There would be plenty of s.p.a.ce for you."

"The offer is very kind, but no. I just couldn't. I like small places, and I like to have plenty of time to myself."

He swallowed another bite. "Well, it's your choice. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with."

"Again, thanks for the offer. It's very kind, but I just would prefer to stay in the hotel, at least until the cops give me the clear and a locksmith has a chance to look at the place."

"Say no more. I understand completely."

He put his mind into eating. She wondered how much of it he believed. She had killed one of the boys responsible for the murders, and another would be going in for his crimes any time now.

But she had told him that she wasn't involved in either-she hadn't seen anyone in her apartment, hadn't even been awake. The other, she hadn't been there in time to see. If he believed her, then he'd start thinking someone else was going around, doing his dirty work for him.

A third person in the shadows might be enough to make him change his plans, start adjusting. Then again, Craig might see right through her. It was never easy to tell, and it was that much harder with Craig, because he seemed so ready to lie himself that he must have been good at it.

He pushed his plate back when she still had half a stack to eat, drank down the last few mouthfuls of water. Erin poured out the last of the syrup onto her plate, mopped some of it up with the next bite. The place was pretty good. Once this was all over, she might come by again. She almost imagined bringing Roy here before she realized that he wouldn't be around for it.

She couldn't risk it before the case was cleared up. She didn't know where Craig called home, but she knew he wouldn't call her out to somewhere far away from home turf. Which meant this was a no-go before their charade was over. When it was, he would be gone. She suddenly lost her appet.i.te. She pushed her plate back just a bit and set down her fork.

"Too much food?"

"I don't know. Just don't feel good I guess."

"Do you mind-" He started to reach over before she answered, hesitating a little way to hear her answer.

"Go ahead."

Craig pulled her plate in front of him and started to eat again. She drank down the rest of her coffee, just cool enough to take a deep swallow of the last mouthful, and then started in on her water. The cool so soon after the hot felt good.