'Which part?' he asked. 'The being stalked part or the privacy disaster part?'

'Both, but it doesn't really matter. The only important thing is making this stop. What were you doing when I came in?'

'Trying to track down the Bryans after they left Anderson Ferry. I have the father's social security number from the police report and I located his death certificate. He died in North Carolina a year after Ileanna's murder.'

Lucy rolled her chair to look at his screen. 'Oh,' she said sadly. 'Suicide.'

'Gunshot wound to the head. I found the police report for his suicide scene which says the body was discovered by his son, Evan Bryan.'

'It's looking like Evan has plenty of reasons to be angry. Where is he now?'

'Can't find him yet, and my eyes are crossing.' But he'd keep looking because Evan's only sister had worn a bracelet that had brought Lucy a lot of trouble. The boy was a link, if not their man. And until they ID'd him, Lucy was living in the cross hairs.

'Mine too,' she said. 'Craig found the autopsy reports on Ileanna and Ricky Joyner. He sent them to my email, but my eyes can't focus on the small print on my phone anymore. Is there a computer I can use here to check my email?'

'Use mine,' he said, then tortured himself with the feel of her against him as she leaned closer to input her user name and password. 'Lucy?' he murmured.

The skin on her arms pebbled as a shiver shook her. 'Hm?'

'Can I still stay?'

She turned her head to look at him, putting her mouth within inches of his. 'Yes.'

'Then let's hurry so we can get some food and a few hours' sleep.'

Her mouth slowly curved and it took all the discipline he possessed not to kiss her right here in the bullpen. But as Stevie had said, Hyatt was watching and less than happy that JD had told him no twice over Lucy's being bait. He'd watch himself, for now. And hope like hell Hyatt was too honorable to listen in where he shouldn't, because later . . .

'Food and sleep are good.' She turned back to the screen, her focus immediately redirected. 'Ileanna, what happened to you, honey?' she whispered.

It was a gruesome report. The photos of the body were stark and grim, something they'd both seen way too many times before. 'She was beaten severely.'

'With fists, probably. The ME concluded that one of the head wounds was the cause of death. She was also raped, brutally. There's bruising here, and tearing. This was a vicious assault.' She enlarged the photo. 'Look. This welt on her neck.'

'Where the chain of a necklace might have been yanked off,' he said.

'Exactly. But there's no similar welt on her wrist. When I found the bracelet in Buck's room, it wasn't broken. That didn't happen until Sonny stole it from me.'

'So the bracelet was taken off. But by whom?'

She bit at her lip thoughtfully. 'Do you have the bracelet?'

'Yeah.' He took the evidence bag from his pocket. 'Stevie gave it to me.'

She looked at the bracelet through the plastic. 'Could you manage this clasp?'

'Not easily. It's really small and I'm not used to doing it.'

'A boy Buck's age wouldn't have been, either. Did Ileanna have a purse?'

JD looked through the box until he found the candid prom photos. 'Yes.' He showed her the picture. 'But there was no purse found with her body according to the police report. Initially they called it a robbery.'

'Until they discovered the suicide Ricky Joyner. Do we have a police report on his death?'

'I requested his police report be faxed from the state police. Wait,' he said. Luckily the state police were a lot faster than Gladys Strough and the report was sitting on the fax machine. He read it as he walked back to Lucy. 'No purse found with his body.'

She was staring at Ileanna's autopsy photo. 'My mother saw these injuries. She treated babies with sniffles and boys who'd fallen out of trees. She didn't have experience with anything like this. I see this a lot . . . It doesn't get easy, but the shock tends to wear off. She must have been blown away. And then to lose Buck right after.'

He rubbed her back comfortingly and said nothing, letting her talk it out.

'I guess I never realized how much I wished things were different until I stood on that dock today. I kept thinking, maybe he'll hug me. Maybe he'll let my mother talk to me. Maybe it'll be okay and there's a damn good reason that my brother had a dead girl's bracelet in his room.'

She scrolled past the pictures to the report. 'The ME back then took semen samples.'

She was done talking about her personal life, but it was more than she'd offered before without his asking. 'Illeanna's report doesn't mention a DNA test,' he said.

'They didn't do one. Probably because no one was prosecuted. It took weeks to get DNAs done back then, when they were done at all. But they did do blood type.' Abruptly she switched to Ricky Joyner's autopsy report. 'Which was consistent with that of the suicide victim. And not Buck.'

She'd been thinking Buck had raped Ileanna. Which had also crossed JD's mind more than once. 'Not conclusive,' he said.

'No. But add to it that the bruising on Joyner's knuckles was also consistent with the injuries on Ileanna's face and body, and you have a stronger case. Plus there was some anger that goes to motive. She'd broken up with Joyner to go to the prom with Buck.'

He read more of the report. 'Joyner had scratches on his face and chest.'

'And she had skin under her nails.'

'Seems like a slam dunk,' he mused. 'Why does it feel wrong?'

She opened Joyner's autopsy photo and JD had to swallow hard. It, too, was grim. Joyner had eaten his gun and there wasn't much face left. But Lucy didn't flinch, just stared at the screen with that instant concentration he found so fascinating.

'Because it is wrong,' she said. 'Look at his face.'

JD grimaced. 'How? There's nothing left.'

She shook her head and zoomed the photo on Joyner's right jaw. 'It's a bruise.'

'He shot himself in the face, Lucy,' JD said flatly. 'He's gonna be dinged up.'

'This isn't from the shot. He was hit in the face, hard. Pre-mortem.' Quickly she clicked on the victim's arms. 'These are defensive wounds, and this,' she clicked on his torso where there was a dark bruise over the ribcage, 'is a boot kick.'

JD frowned. She was right. His eyes had immediately been drawn to the victim's lack of face and he'd missed the other injuries. 'Why didn't the ME catch that twenty-one years ago?'

'Could have been any number of reasons. The cops said Joyner did it. The victim and killer were both dead, so the cases were closed. Maybe he had a huge caseload and cut a corner.'

'So did he kill himself?'

'Maybe. But he had one dilly of a fight before he did.' She clicked to the next photo and went still. 'Or not. Not before he died, anyway.' She zoomed in. 'See this bruise on his back? Post-mortem. Also looks like a boot kick.'

It certainly did, he thought grimly. 'Somebody either killed him or came along and kicked him right after he was dead.' He paged through the police report and knew she was right. 'He did have gunshot residue on his hand. Which still held the gun. If he'd shot himself, the gun probably wouldn't have been in his hand. This was staged.'

'Serial number of the gun?' she asked.

'Filed off. We might be able to raise it today if the state boys still have the gun.'

Her stomach growled loudly. 'Can you print these reports? Then maybe get an escort to go with me to get some dinner? I can bring you back something. The cafeteria was out of almost everything that wasn't junk food. That stuff'll kill you.'

He hit print, then stood. 'I'll go with you.'

'Okay. Then I have to go to the morgue, check for some blood work I ran on Russ Bennett.' But she hadn't moved. Her eyes had moved back to Joyner's autopsy photo.

'What's wrong?'

'I was just remembering how my mother would scold Buck for scuffing her floors.'

He understood. 'He wore boots?'

She nodded, troubled. 'Pointy-toed ones, everywhere except the football field.'

'He couldn't have been the only one to wear pointy-toed boots, Lucy.'

'Yeah, but he's the only one who hid a dead girl's bracelet under his baseball cards.'

He tugged her arm. 'Come, let's take a break, get dinner. Worry about this later.'

She closed the file and logged off. 'All right.'

Chapter Twenty-One.

Tuesday, May 4, 7.30 P.M.

Clay was so damn tired. Nicki's parents had been weeping when he met them. They wept as he drove them to their hotel. He was sure they were weeping now. Part of him wished he could weep too. But once he started, he wouldn't stop.

He pushed open his front door and flinched. Alyssa was standing in his dining room, a gun in her hand. She lowered the gun when she saw it was him, her shoulders slumping.

'What the hell?' he asked, exhaustion making him monotone.

'I kept hearing noises. I kept thinking that Evan's out there. I'm sorry, I was just scared.'

'I can't blame you.' He watched her put the gun in his china cabinet drawer, already filled with Nicki's files. 'Why are there files in my china cabinet?'

'Because June got a visit from a BPD homicide detective asking about me.'

Clay wanted to groan. June was Alyssa's roommate and not the sharpest crayon in the box. 'What did she tell them?' His eyes narrowed. 'What could she tell them?'

'Just that I'm here. I called her to let her know I was okay, so she wouldn't worry. And I told her to lock the door. Just in case Evan decides to get rid of everyone who knew him.'

His annoyance dissipated. She was right. As long as Evan was free, there was danger. 'What else did June say?'

'The cop told her to lock her door, too. Because there were three more murders last night. Two of the victims' throats were slit.' She met Clay's eyes and he could see her fear. 'Like Nicki.'

Clay's mouth dropped open. 'What? Who?'

'I checked the news. One looked like the woman you saw with Evan on the hotel's video.'

He swallowed hard, his stomach churning. 'Who was the other?'

'A parking valet working a club downtown where a second woman's body was found. She'd been left in one of the cars in front of a club named Sheidalin. She'd been murdered too. The news didn't give specifics on that one. What are we going to do?'

Clay closed his eyes. 'I don't know.'

'Well you need to decide fast, because that cop, Mazzetti, is probably coming here next.' Outside a car door slammed and Alyssa jumped. 'That's probably her right now.'

'Go back to my room,' Clay said. 'Do not come out.' For once, Alyssa obeyed.

There was a knock at the door. 'Baltimore PD,' a woman said. 'Detective Mazzetti, Baltimore Homicide. Can I come in?'

Clay opened the door, a little surprised. The woman's body did not match her voice. She'd sounded large, but Mazzetti was petite, with dark eyes that tried to see right through him. 'How can I help you, Detective?'

'I'm here to talk to you about Nicki Fields. Laurel PD transferred the case to us.'

Because of the other murders. Evan Reardon had killed at least two more, maybe three. The need to do the right thing and tell her what he knew battled with the need to do the right thing and see Reardon breathe his last. 'Do you have any leads?'

'Yes,' Mazzetti said. 'Do you?'

'No,' he murmured. 'I wish I did. I'd give them to you.' Which was true. If he had Evan, he'd hand him over so fast. Evan would be dead, but Mazzetti would get her man.

'Where is Miss Moore?' she asked.

'She's not here,' Clay said.

'Her roommate says she is.' Mazzetti lifted a dark brow. 'Her car's parked on your curb. I ran the plates. The Laurel police found very few files in Ms Field's office or apartment, Mr Maynard. Are they here?'

'Why would they be?' Clay asked and Mazzetti's smile was razor sharp.

'I can think of a number of reasons, none of them positive. What are you and Miss Moore looking for in your partner's files?'

'My assistant is not-'

'Clay? Baby?' The bedroom door opened and Alyssa came out wearing one of Clay's shirts, her long legs bare. Stretching her arms over her head, she yawned. 'I heard voi-' She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening at the sight of Mazzetti. She took a step back and Clay had to struggle to hide his shock and annoyance.

'So she is here,' Mazzetti said. 'The two of you are . . .' She let the thought trail.