'Hope so. Stevie's a great mom, but the dad Cordy lost was one of the good ones.'

'I'd heard that Stevie's husband died.'

'Gunned down in a store robbery.' He exhaled. 'Her son, too. He was five.'

'Oh my God.' Lucy sat up, horrified. 'How does someone come back from that?'

'Like Stevie did,' JD said. 'She was pregnant with Cordelia at the time. She made herself go on, for Cordy. Being a cop, it's hard to work through shit like that. You gotta be strong. Invincible. But losing someone, especially like that . . . It cuts you down.'

'That's why Stevie does the grief groups.'

'Yeah. She needed help to move on and knew other cops would too. So she started the groups. Now it's kind of her thing. She's the grief guru.'

'I always thought that was creepy. Now that I know the story, well, it's lovely. How did you meet Stevie?'

'Through Paul, her husband. We played on the same baseball team. I remember feeling so damn helpless when he died.' He hesitated. 'And then my wife died.'

'I'm sorry,' Lucy murmured.

'Yeah.' He needed a moment. Their deaths didn't hurt like they once had. Time did heal. But the guilt never really went away. 'I was on a bad road after Maya died.'

'So you went to Stevie's grief group.'

He nodded. 'She set me straight again.'

'Then the grief group is even more lovely.'

He smiled. 'I don't think I've ever heard it called lovely. More like a ribbon of gristle in a steak. You just chew your way through it and spit out what you can. Speaking of steak, let's get dinner when we're done here.'

She winced. 'I don't know. I was hungry. Now, not so much.'

'You cut up dead people all day and a little gristle bothers you?'

She looked annoyed. 'You know, if you didn't say the "You cut up dead people all day" thing again, I could live with that.'

He grinned at her. 'It gets you all riled. You're cute that way.'

'I am not cute.' She drew a sudden breath when he turned off the highway toward Anderson Ferry, looking like she was startled to be there. 'We're here.'

'We made good time while you were sleeping. Which way?' he asked when he came to the town's main street. She gave him directions, saying no more until they'd stopped in front of a very normal-looking suburban house. He turned to study her. She had grown paler with each mile, sick-looking even. 'You're sure you want to do this, Lucy? You don't have to.'

'Yeah. I owe the Bennetts a lot. Kind of like you owe Stevie.' And with that cryptic remark she got out, straightened her skirt, and looked straight ahead. 'Let's do this.'

Monday, May 3, 6.45 P.M.

'Your steak, sir. Rare.'

He eyed the plate put before him curiously. Blood oozed from the beef, exactly as he'd ordered it. After spending the afternoon wading through Janet Gordon's blood, the sight of a really rare steak should probably make him a little queasy.

But it didn't. He cut into the meat with gusto, giving the waiter a nod. 'I'll have another glass of that.' He pointed to his almost empty wine glass. 'What was it again?'

'Pinot Noir. An excellent red.' The waiter departed, leaving him to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his labors. It was a very nice restaurant, with white tablecloths and extra forks. If the receipts in Janet's purse were any indication, she'd come here often.

He liked having money. The alternative totally sucked ass.

It was good he'd started with the rich ones. It was nice to live well while he checked the next few kills off his list, as they wouldn't be contributing as much to his unofficial retirement account as Malcolm, Russ and Janet had.

He pulled the list from his pocket and scanned the names he'd convinced Malcolm Edwards to share. He could recite this list from memory, but seeing it, holding it, made him feel good. Seeing the names with the check marks made him feel better. They all deserved to die. His eyes dropped to the bottom of the list.

Lucy Trask. Of all of them, she deserved it most.

She'd known. All this time. She'd known and done nothing. Worse than nothing. Like her father, Lucy was a liar and a cheat. A bully. Like Janet Gordon, Lucy had profited. She purchased her dreams with my sister's blood. For that she would pay.

'Your wine, sir,' the waiter said.

He folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket smoothly. 'Thank you.'

'Thank her.' He pointed to a woman sitting at the bar. 'Compliments of the lady.'

'Oh?' The woman was a looker, her long dark hair curling around her shoulders. Her short skirt and low-cut sweater left little to the imagination. He wanted to believe she wanted him, but thought it more likely she'd been attracted by the roll of cash he'd flashed at the bar when he'd first arrived. Either way, she was hot. Suddenly, so was he.

A minute later she slid onto the chair beside him. 'Hi,' she all but purred.

'Thank you,' he said, lifting his glass to her.

She smiled, leaning forward to give him a good view of the girls. If she twisted the right way, a lucky guy could catch a glimpse of nipple, a fact of which he was certain she was well aware. 'I haven't seen you here in a while,' she said.

He assessed her coolly. She was bullshitting him, but with such style he could hardly mind. 'That might be because I've never been here before.'

She laughed, unperturbed. 'Me neither, but I thought it was worth a try. I'm Susie.'

'Ted,' he said, and it was probably closer to the truth than the name she'd given. Ted was the name on his driver's license and credit cards. Ted Gamble was the name he'd paid Nicki Fields a hell of a lot of money to create.

'I'm here for a convention,' she said and he laughed.

Any man knew that was code for I wanna get laid. 'I'm not,' he said.

She looked at him, her mouth curving in a feline smile. 'You play hard to get.'

'That's because I'm not interested in sex-for-hire.'

She blinked, having the good sense to play insulted. 'Me neither.' She rose abruptly, her eyes filling with tears. He had to give her props. The girl could kind of act. 'You know, you're a real jerk. This wasn't easy for me, coming onto you.'

He leaned back in his chair, aware that several people were watching and that made him nervous. 'Sit down,' he said calmly and she did. From the corner of his eye he could see the other diners going back to their meals and he began to relax again. Don't worry, he thought. It's not like any of them were looking at me anyway, not with those tits practically falling out of her sweater. 'Now tell me what this is really about.'

Her lower lip trembled. 'My boyfriend cheated on me. In our bed.'

'Then he's scum,' he said mildly. 'So this is payback?'

She nodded defiantly. 'Yes. I saw you and you looked good. I'm going to do this, but it doesn't have to be you. I don't want it to be you anymore.' She blinked, sending two big tears down her cheeks. God, she was really good.

If she was half as good at sex as she was at lying, it might be worthwhile. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I didn't mean to insult you. But are you sure you want to do this?'

She nodded again, a little less resolutely. 'Yes. He did it with my best friend. I want him to know he can't get away with it.'

'So you'll have sex with a stranger to pay him back?'

'Absolutely.'

'Wouldn't it be better to have sex with his best friend?'

She bit her lip. 'His best friend is a disgusting troll. You're not.'

His lips twitched. 'High praise. I think I might blush.'

She laughed, again at ease. 'So what'll it be? You scratch my back, I'll scratch your . . .' She let her eyes drift down to his crotch, which had very understandably come to attention as soon as she'd jiggled her tits in his face.

He considered it. It would be a just reward for a hard day's labor, and he did have a few hours to kill. 'Just don't draw blood,' he said. He pushed his empty plate away and threw enough bills on the table to pay for his dinner. 'I can't stand the sight of blood.'

He walked her to his car, his eyes on her very visible breasts. 'It's not too late to change your-' Then he groaned when she slid her body against his, kissing him open-mouthed and hot. She had his fly unzipped and his cock in her hand before he could think and then he couldn't think at all when she dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth. All the way down like Sandy had never done.

Oh my God. His eyes rolled back in his head.

Then sanity returned. He yanked her up by her hair, plundering her mouth with his. 'Are you crazy? You can't do that here.'

'Then find a place where I can. Where to?' she murmured against his lips.

Alarms went off in his mind but he ignored them. Today he'd killed without mercy. Tonight he'd take what he wanted. And if she crossed him, he'd just kill her too.

'The closest hotel,' he said, trying to get control, but her hand was inside his pants again, stroking him.

'Okay,' she said breathlessly. 'Will you drive?'

'Get in,' he growled, pushing her to the seat. 'Let's do this.'

Chapter Ten.

Monday, May 3, 7.15 P.M.

The Bennetts were in the middle of dinner when JD knocked on the front door. It smelled like pot roast and reminded him that he hadn't eaten in a very long time.

Mr Bennett answered the door, surprise on his face. 'Lucy? Come in.'

Obviously they hadn't been warned by either of the ex-wives, JD thought.

'It's been so long since we've seen you,' Bennett went on, taking Lucy's arm. 'Who is this you've brought to meet us? I assume you've come to give us good news?'

'Mr B, wait.' She looked inside the house uncertainly. 'Is Mrs B here?'

Bennett nodded, his smile disappearing. 'Lucy, what's wrong? Who is this man?'

'This is Detective Fitzpatrick. He's from Baltimore.' She took the old man's hand in hers, drew a deep breath. 'He's a homicide detective. I'm so sorry. Russ is dead.'

The old man's face drained of color and he stumbled back. 'No.'

'I'm so sorry,' Lucy said again. 'Can we come in?'

Bennett stared at her for a moment, numb. 'Of course,' he mumbled.

Lucy helped him to a sofa and looked up at JD. 'Stay here. I'll be right back.'

'Jason?' a woman called from the kitchen. 'Who's there?'

Lucy squared her shoulders. 'It's me, Mrs B. Lucy Trask.' She disappeared into the kitchen, where for a few moments there were happy sounds.

Then silence. Lucy reappeared, supporting a tiny woman who leaned heavily against her, her face a disturbing gray. 'Get her a glass of water,' Lucy said. 'Quick.'

JD complied and when he got back to the living room, Lucy was kneeling next to the sofa, shaking a pill from an amber prescription bottle. She placed the pill under the elder Mrs Bennett's tongue and began taking her pulse. She glanced up at Mr Bennett. 'Is she still seeing Dr Jameson?'

'Yes,' Bennett whispered.

Holding Mrs Bennett's hand, Lucy made a call on her cell phone. 'Dr Jameson's on his way,' she said. 'I should have had him meet us here. Her pulse is leveling out, thank God. Mrs B, talk to me.'

Mrs Bennett turned dull eyes on Lucy's face. 'My Russell . . . dead? How?'

Lucy took Mr Bennett's hand, so that she held onto both. 'He was murdered.'

Mr Bennett collapsed back against the sofa, his face as gray as his wife's. 'How?'

Lucy hesitated. 'He was beaten. I'm so sorry.'

Mrs Bennett gasped. 'Beaten? My Russell? Was he robbed?'

Lucy looked up over her shoulder at JD, wordlessly asking for help. A little late for that, JD thought. He hadn't expected her to do the notification herself, just to observe while he did it. I should have been a lot clearer. Lesson learned.

'No, ma'am,' JD said calmly. 'It appears to be a crime of rage. Perhaps revenge.'

The Bennetts looked lost. 'Revenge?' Mrs Bennett whispered. 'But why?'

'That's what we need to understand,' Lucy said with quiet urgency. 'You talked with him often. Did he mention anyone who might have threatened him?'