Unsteadily the boy moved behind the register. 'We have deliveries for the last five years in our system. Anything older and we'll have to go to storage to get the records.' He looked up, his eyes shadowed. 'There's no courier-client confidentiality, is there?'

The question was asked so gravely, JD had to keep his lips from twitching. 'No, son,' he said, equally gravely. 'We appreciate this.'

In two minutes Jimmy handed JD a list. 'There are a few men on it,' Jimmy said. 'I remember those were regular envelopes, maybe for business.'

There were about forty women on the list. JD flipped to the last page, angered to see Lucy's name. Written in the 'Item Delivered' column was 'Barbie Doll' and he remembered her saying that was how Bennett had broken through her defenses. Bastard.

'Thanks, Jimmy,' he said. 'Call me or my partner if Bennett makes any further contact with you.' JD drew Stevie aside. 'I'll search for the shipping box if you want to start checking on those names. See where they come from.'

'Be it ever so humble,' Stevie murmured to let him know she'd be checking for any connection to Bennett's hometown. 'Hurry. We still have the first ex to notify before we drive out to see the parents.'

'We'll pick up Lucy on the way.'

Stevie checked her watch. 'I'll take my own car and follow behind you, in case we run late. Cordelia's got that thing at school tonight.'

'Not just a "thing",' JD said. 'It's not every day a girl graduates from kindergarten. And your whole clan will be on hand, hankies in one hand, camcorders in the other.'

Stevie flashed an amused grin. 'Exactly. So get busy dumpster diving.'

Monday, May 3, 3.20 P.M.

'It's a beautiful day.' And it was. The sun was shining and the wind was just strong enough to cool his face without rocking the boat too much.

He looked down at the deck where Janet Gordon lay bound and quivering. 'Where should we start?' he asked and she shrank back against the deck, tears on her face. Her tears did not move him. They were selfish tears, cried only for herself. Leaning over her, he sliced the gag from her mouth with his very sharp filleting knife.

'Well?' he asked quietly.

'Please, don't kill me,' she sobbed. 'Please. I didn't do anything.'

He stared down at her, shaking his head. 'Unbelievable. You still don't get it, do you? That you didn't do anything is exactly why you're here.'

He turned the knife one way, then the other, making sure she could see his blade in all its sharpened glory. She sucked in a breath and screamed at the top of her lungs, which made him smile. He lifted her up in his arms so that she could see where they were.

'Look around you. Nothing but open water. So scream all you want. I like it.'

He dropped her and she blinked, temporarily disoriented. 'Please. I'm begging you.' Then she drew a deep breath, her struggle for control a fascinating sight. She still thought he might let her go. 'You won't get away with this,' she said ominously, although her desperation was clear. 'I wrote a letter.'

He cocked his head, interested. 'Really? To whom?'

'To the DA. It had everything in it. Everything I knew. Everything that happened that day. Everyone that was there.'

'And where is this letter?'

'With my attorney. If anything happens to me, he's to mail it to the DA.'

'Hm. So Bennett was telling the truth about that, too.'

She stared, stunned. 'You knew?'

'Yes. When Bennett told me about you, I said I didn't believe anyone would be so stupid as to let someone who was blackmailing them around them with sharp knives. He said you'd shown him the letter, that he had to keep you alive. And happy.' He lifted his brows. 'How happy did he keep you, Janet?'

'It wasn't like that,' she spat. 'That's disgusting.'

He threw back his head and laughed. 'That's disgusting? You use the murder and rape of an innocent girl to get a nose job, and having sex with Bennett is disgusting?'

'She wasn't innocent,' Janet blurted from behind clenched teeth.

He abruptly went still, inside and out. 'What did you say?'

She also went still. Maybe she was finally getting it. 'Nothing.'

He crouched down, his temper ice cold. 'You think she wanted to be assaulted? Beaten until she was unrecognizable? You think my sister wanted it? That she asked for it? Maybe her skirt was too short. Maybe she slept around?'

Janet pursed her lips and said nothing.

'Tell me,' he said, 'is your son's name in that letter?'

She closed her eyes. 'No,' she whispered.

'How will he feel when he finds out what you traded for your silence?'

'It won't matter. He won't care. He hates me.'

'Really? Why?'

'Because I wouldn't tell the police what he'd done.'

This surprised him. 'Really? Ryan wanted you to tell the cops?'

'That's why he told me. He wanted to be punished, but he couldn't turn himself in. Wanted me to do it for him.' There was contempt in her voice that made him feel the tiniest bit sorry for her son. But not that sorry. Ryan was, bottom line, a coward.

'And you said no.'

'It would have ruined our family, and it was too late to help anyway. The killer was dead and those boys . . . they had families. Futures. We couldn't tell.'

He sat back on his heels, studying her as his anger grew even colder. I had a future once, he thought. Nobody thought about me or my family. 'We? Who's "we"?'

She opened her eyes to stare up at him. 'If I tell you, will you let me live?'

What a piece of work. 'No.'

Her eyes flashed hate. 'Then go to hell,' she spat and he smiled.

'That's what Bennett said. After a few fingers, he changed his tune. So will you.'

'That letter will come out,' she said desperately. 'Everyone will know what happened. She was your sister. You'll be the most likely suspect.'

'I don't think so. Because I don't exist anymore.' He leaned in close, pressed the tip of the knife to the hollow of her throat. 'Because I'm dead.'

Monday, May 3, 3.20 P.M.

Stevie wrinkled her nose. 'Drew should send a van for this. You reek enough.'

JD brushed the remnants of trash off his clothes. 'I got a lot smellier on one of my Narc undercover assignments. I had to play a guy who hadn't bathed in way too long. This is not that bad.' He'd found Bennett's box sandwiched between two larger boxes that had been knocked down flat. 'I want Drew to get this ASAP. We can put it in the trunk.'

'You're right. Sooner the better. I'm just glad it's your car and not mine.'

At the car, JD popped his trunk. And sighed. 'I forgot about this.'

Stevie peered inside at the pile of clothes and sports equipment. 'What is all this?' She gave him a measured look. 'Are you giving Maya's stuff away?'

Stevie had been urging JD to deal with his dead wife's things for a long time. And he had. Mostly. 'This is all my stuff. Sports equipment, video games. I found it when I was cleaning out my storage unit last weekend. It's all stuff I packed away before I went into the army. I'm going to donate it, I just haven't had the chance.'

'You're donating video games you had before the army?' She reached in the bag, pulled out a few and laughed. 'Nobody will want these. They're ancient.'

'They're classics,' he corrected. 'Vintage. Collectors will pay through the nose.'

Stevie was looking through the games curiously. 'They're all shooting games. No jumping plumbers even.' She eyed him shrewdly. 'Did the games prepare you?'

No, he thought. It was a hell of a lot different to take a bead on a live man than a cartoon. No game had prepared him for what it had been like when his first target's head exploded. Or his last target, or any of the ones in between. It was real. And horrifying. And it stayed with you. Forever. He put the games back in the bag and answered her original question to change the subject.

'I gave all Maya's stuff away last year when I put the house up for sale.'

She nodded, accepting his avoidance. 'You've come a long way, JD.'

Not really. It had taken a year to stand the thought of anyone else touching his wife's things, and a year more to give them away. Three years after her death, despite the urging of his friends, there had been no one who made him feel . . . alive.

Until today, when Lucy had met his eyes and everything changed. 'I'm moving on.'

'I could see that back in the parking garage,' she said wryly. 'Just don't move on too fast. And roll the car windows down. Please.'

Monday, May 3, 3.40 P.M.

'Well?'

Lucy looked up from the CSU lab's microscope to find Stevie Mazzetti standing in the doorway holding a man's suit in a dry-cleaning bag. 'It's a human heart,' Lucy said, 'still mostly frozen. It's the same blood type as Russ's. We'll run the DNA to confirm, but it's his. Drew's got the container and is checking for prints, but he's not hopeful.'

'How was the heart stored?' Stevie asked.

'Bagged in a generic ziplock bag and shipped in a cheap plastic bowl like the ones you get takeout soup in.'

'Dime a dozen,' Stevie said.

'Which is why Drew wasn't hopeful.' Lucy tried to keep her eyes on Stevie's face, but she kept glancing over the woman's shoulder to the hall beyond.

Stevie smiled slightly. 'He's coming, Doc. Don't worry.'

'I wasn't-'

Stevie interrupted her with a wave. 'Don't even try.' She hung the suit on a hook next to the door and pulled up a stool. She looked straight ahead for a moment, then turned to meet Lucy's eyes. 'We've been friends for years, JD and I.'

'Then he's a lucky man,' Lucy said quietly and Stevie gave that slight smile again.

'He might disagree. JD's a good guy. He's had a rough time the last few years.'

Stevie's tone held a warning and made part of Lucy want to run away. But she also wanted to know more about JD Fitzpatrick. Curiosity won out. 'How so?'

'He's a widower. His wife died in an accident three years ago.'

That took her by surprise. Somehow he hadn't seemed like the married type. Not that she was the best judge on that. Russ Bennett, Exhibit A.

Then Lucy remembered the child's autopsy, JD's stoic silence and the tears in his eyes. That had been two years ago. Dread settled on her shoulders. Had he also lost a child in the accident that claimed his wife? Was that why he'd been moved to tears?

'Did they have any children?'

Stevie looked surprised by the question. 'No. Maya wasn't a kid kind of person.'

'Oh.' So why had he been there that day? Get a spine, Lucy, and ask him yourself.

Stevie was staring at her intently. 'He took Maya's death hard and hasn't had anyone since. I've been telling him to get out there. Meet someone.'

'That's hard to do after losing someone you love,' she murmured, thinking of the pictures in her duffle bag. Losing her brother had simply devastated her, changing her life. After losing her first fiance, she'd had a lot of trouble letting her guard down again, but she had, eventually. Strangely enough, the departure of fiance number two had been more an inconvenience than a devastation. Still, it had been years until she'd opened her heart again. And that time to Russ Bennett. And that turned out so well.

Part of her was still terrified. Part of her yearned, though. I'm tired of being alone.

'We all heal at our own pace,' Stevie said. 'I might not have said anything at all, but I saw the way he looked at you. And you at him. I wanted you to know he's a good man, but you could hurt him. So don't hurt him. Please.'

'Please what?' Fitzpatrick filled the doorway, carrying a stack of flattened boxes in a clear trash bag. He'd taken off his suit coat and tie, and his white shirt clung to his arms and back, damp with sweat. His dark hair was slicked back and there was a smudge on his cheek. Muscles rippled under the almost transparent shirt as he flexed, trying to maneuver the boxes into the room.

Lucy tried not to stare, but it was a futile effort. Oh my. Then the odor hit and she started coughing. 'What is that?'

Fitzpatrick gave her an annoyed look. 'You do autopsies all day, yet gag at this?'

'I'm used to eau de corpse,' she shot back from behind her hand. 'What is that?'

'A cross-section of the garbage dumpster behind Yee's Express delivery service,' Stevie said, her dark eyes twinkling.

'Stevie,' Drew chided, coming in behind him. 'You sent him into the dumpster?'

'Hey, he volunteered. Besides, he's got a change of clothes.' Stevie pointed to the dry-cleaner bag. 'I've got to go to Cordelia's graduation tonight with his stink on me.'

'It'll have dissipated by then,' Fitzpatrick said. 'Don't be a whiner. Where do you want this shit, Drew?' Drew pointed to an empty corner and they all followed Fitzpatrick as he carefully placed it on the floor.

'I hope it really isn't shit, Stevie,' Drew said mildly. 'Not again.'

'That was bad,' Stevie agreed. 'No, this is regulation garbage. The heart box arrived at the courier's yesterday in a shipping box that they cut down and threw in the dumpster. After which an entire frat house had pizza and beer and threw the leftovers on top,' she finished cheerfully, and Lucy had to purse her lips to keep from smiling.

Fitzpatrick noted her effort and grinned, his dimple appearing beneath the smudge on his cheek. 'It's okay. Go ahead and laugh. I imagine you can use it after today.'