He turned to Alyssa. 'Give me a few minutes, then we'll leave.'

'For where?'

'Anderson Ferry. Mazzetti's not going to tell us anything more, and Nicki's parents need closure. They need to know why she was killed.'

She nodded. 'I can be ready in five.'

'Fine.' Clay went into his office and pulled up his information database. From his own pocket he took the card Mazzetti had given him yesterday. Detective tefania Mazzetti. Her partner had called her Stevie. Clay personally liked tefania better. He typed her name in and pushed search. In seconds he had the answer he'd sought.

Marital status: Widow. Her daughter was only five. Her loss must be recent. She probably did understand more than he knew. He shut down his laptop. 'Alyssa, let's go.'

Wednesday, May 5, 7.55 A.M.

'I made you some tea,' Skinner said quietly. 'It calms my wife when she's upset.'

Standing at her living room window looking down at the crime scene, Lucy glanced over her shoulder. Skinner was putting a steaming cup on her table, the fragile china cup looking even smaller in his big hands. 'Thank you,' she said. 'I'll let it cool a little.'

Fitzpatrick's car had been loaded onto a flatbed truck and transported back to the department's garage where it would sit next to all the other cars a killer had taken out of commission. Ryan Agar's body had been taken back to the morgue where it would sit in the cold room next to all the other people taken out of commission. Forever.

CSU had processed the scene quickly. There was nothing to see, no evidence to find. Still, a few techs swept the asphalt for anything that might provide a hint. A single squad car remained, ensuring gawkers didn't come too close.

Lucy imagined that the drivers of the cars parked around Fitzpatrick's were feeling very inconvenienced. The lot had been cordoned off. The drivers who'd grumbled at having to park around the side in the overflow lot last night were probably feeling pretty lucky right about now.

'You should step away from the window, Dr Trask,' Skinner said gently.

'He's bold,' Lucy said, ignoring him. 'He wanted me to see. Even when the scene is cleaned up, he wanted me to see it from here, where I'm supposed to feel safe.'

He tugged on the sleeve of her coveralls. 'Come, drink your tea.'

She let herself be led from the window. She sipped at the tea, but didn't sit. She didn't think she could now. He has my parents. My father might deserve this, but . . .

No. He doesn't. No one does. My mother nor my father, nor any of his other victims, no matter how bad they were. She checked her phone impatiently. 'Did Detective Fitzpatrick call you yet, Detective Skinner?'

'Not yet. He's only been gone an hour,' Skinner said. 'Not enough time for news.'

Technically it had been an hour and fifteen minutes, but she tried to relax. 'I know. I was also wondering where my friends are. The policewoman left messages on both their cell phones and on Thorne's home phone. I thought they'd have called by now.'

'Maybe they're getting ready for work,' he said. 'I know they'll call soon.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'You know, this soothing tone of yours is totally annoying. But you make a decent cup of tea, so thank you.'

He smiled. 'I've had a lot of practice lately. My wife craved the herbals when she was pregnant.' He pulled his own phone out and showed her a photo. 'My kid.'

'He's a beautiful baby, and your wife looks beautiful too.'

'She looks tired mostly. Me too. You got any cure for colic, Doc?'

'My mother swore by strapping a car seat to the washing machine,' she said, then a wave of pain twisted her inside and tears burned her eyes. She hadn't remembered that in years. For years she'd managed not to think about her mother at all.

Now all she could see was her mother with her heart cut out.

'I'm sorry,' Skinner said. 'I didn't mean to . . .'

'It's okay,' Lucy said. Her cell rang, blessedly distracting her. 'It's Gwyn, my friend.' She turned her back to Skinner, needing a second to compose herself. 'Where are you?'

'It's Royce. We got your call. I brought Gwyn over because the cops still have her car.'

He sounded frantic and Lucy's hackles rose. 'What's wrong? Where is she?'

'That's why I'm calling. We're in the overflow lot around the side of your building. You need to come now. Gwyn says to tell you that Mr Pugh's fallen down and his head's bleeding. I've called 911 and they're on their way. Let me give you to Gwyn.'

Lucy was already out the door, Skinner behind her. 'Dr Trask, wait.'

She shook him off. 'Come with me. Hurry.'

'Lucy!' Gwyn yelled a few feet away from Royce's phone, fear in her voice. 'Run!'

'She's putting pressure on his head,' Royce said urgently. 'He's lost a lot of blood. It's everywhere. Where the hell is 911? You need to get down here. We need your help.'

Lucy flew down the stairs and out the door, praying they weren't too late. A sob was building in her chest and she pushed it back. Please. Not him too. Not yet.

'Dr Trask, wait.' Skinner was a few feet behind her. 'Stop.'

But she couldn't. Mr Pugh was lying curled on his side on the grass, motionless, his hat still on his head. She dropped to her knees at his side, but before she could test his pulse, he rolled over and grabbed her and too late she knew.

No. It's a trap. Before she could draw a breath she was yanked to her feet and Skinner jerked forward, falling to his knees. Red started to spread on the detective's white shirt front. Shot. Skinner had been shot.

She screamed, but tape was slapped across her mouth and a gun shoved against her temple.

'Move, Dr Trask.'

'No.' The tape muted her. She tried to break free but stumbled when the butt of the gun smacked her head. Stunned, she blinked as she was dragged to the trunk of a silver Buick.

'No.' She tried to writhe and kick, but he grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet as easily as if she were a child. He threw her into the trunk where she got a glimpse of Gwyn's bound body before hearing a shot, followed by a vicious curse.

He's hit. Hope surged for a split second. And then she felt an excruciating pain crack her head and everything went black.

Wednesday, May 5, 8.00 A.M.

'Thank you for this information, Deputy,' JD said. 'We have a CSU van en route. You should see them within an hour, depending on bridge traffic.' He hung up and looked at Stevie, who looked exhausted. 'They found the black Lexus.'

'Didn't take them long.'

'Only so many places to hide a car in Anderson Ferry,' he said. The plates had been stolen, but the vehicle identification number hadn't been removed. 'The car is registered to Malcolm Edwards.'

'That's cold. Kill a guy and steal his car. Then drive it to kill everybody else.'

'I'm wondering if the car's the only thing he stole,' JD said. 'Ron Trask and his boat are gone. The deputy said it looked like Westcott was dragged to the dock. What if Evan abducted Trask on his boat, then sailed it to that rental and lured Lucy's mom and Westcott there?'

'Evan's docked somewhere. Gotta be remote. His kind of torture would be loud.'

'Not necessarily. He cut out their tongues, after all.'

'True. Still, somebody would notice a constant parade of live bodies in and dead bodies out of a commercial marina. I'm betting remote. We know he's got to have access to a flash freezer, too. And he transports his victims in a wheelchair.'

'That narrows it down a great deal. Now if we can only find the damn freezer we'd be in business. What's with Skinner? How hard can it be to find a freezer?'

'Obviously hard,' Stevie said. 'It's hard to function on a few hours' sleep for weeks on end and their baby has been colicky. But he needs to get his head back.'

'And he's the one watching Lucy? Great.'

'He can do bodyguard work, JD. Relax.'

'I'd be more relaxed if he'd find the damn freezer. Besides, how can he look for it if he's watching Lucy?'

'He's not looking for it any more. Hyatt gave the task to Elizabeth. I called him while you were talking to the deputy in Anderson Ferry. He's going to put the BOLO out on Evan Reardon with his photo. I need to stop by my house on my way in, check on Cordelia. Tell Hyatt I'll be there soon.'

'I'm going to stop by Lucy's. Whichever of us gets there first can tell him.'

'Wait. The assistant made you a copy of the SOB's picture.' She gave it to him.

JD studied the man's face. He was wholesome-looking, certainly not a man he would have expected to have killed so many. Then again, evil rarely wore an evil face. 'Handsome guy,' he said. 'I guess that Nicki Fields fell for him isn't too big a leap.'

Stevie shook her head in disgust. 'He probably has women eating out of his hand.'

'Yeah,' JD said bitterly. 'Until he slits their throats. At least he's not Thorne. That will give Lucy some comfort. Let's get back and finish this.'

JD had just pulled out of Maynard's parking lot when he heard it the words that turned every cop's gut to water, no matter how low the radio murmur.

Officer down. JD's heart started to pound and he jacked up the volume. And his pounding heart stopped. Lucy's address. An officer was down at Lucy's address.

Stevie's car pulled beside him, her expression grim. 'I'll meet you there.'

Wednesday, May 5, 8.25 A.M.

She's gone. That was all JD could think as he pulled alongside a row of department vehicles squad cars, unmarked cars, a rescue squad. No morgue rigs. Thank God. Where's Lucy?

He ran from his car to where Hyatt watched Drew's team process the scene. Blood pooled on the asphalt and in the grass next to an empty parking slot.

'Is it hers?' JD asked hoarsely.

'No,' Hyatt said. 'Drew typed it. Not hers. The blood on the asphalt is Skinner's. The medics just left with him. He was unconscious, but alive. Took two bullets, gut and neck, but he fired once. The blood on the grass is the same type as Evan Reardon's. From what he lost there, he's gushing.'

Drew joined them, his expression sober. 'I found Lucy's cell phone in the grass. She'd just received a call from her friend Gwyn Weaver. Gwyn's phone is turned off now, going straight to voicemail. As is Dr Trask's.'

JD tried to control his panic. He's got her. 'Reardon used Gwyn to lure her out.'

'We have his face,' Hyatt said coldly. 'He's killed a cop in Virginia and put one here in critical condition. Every cop in the state is looking for him. He won't go far.'

'He may have a boat,' JD said, swallowing the lump in his throat. 'Maybe two. Lucy's father's sailboat and maybe Malcolm Edwards's cruiser. We need to find the place where he keeps them.' He stopped short. 'I put that compact in her pocket. Why aren't we tracking her?'

'We were,' Drew said bitterly. 'Closed in on the tracker's location in minutes. The transmitter had been thrown in the back of a pickup truck and was driving around town. He must have found it on her and tossed it. We can't track her.'

He's going to kill her. JD shoved his fear aside, looking to the edge of the crime-scene tape. Thorne stood alone, his face drawn. 'What's Thorne doing here?'

'He arrived right after it happened,' Hyatt said.

'If Skinner lives,' Drew said, 'it will be because of Thorne. He called 911, made sure we knew an officer was down, did first aid.'

'I want everyone in my office in thirty,' Hyatt said. 'We need to plan. Dismissed.'

'Wait,' JD said. 'Lucy would have needed to recognize whoever it was who called her. To trust them. She trusts Thorne and Gwyn. If it was Gwyn, someone was forcing her.'

'Maybe one of their club friends,' Hyatt sneered. 'Maybe Thorne will cooperate now.'

But JD thought he knew. He could see a sliver of a scene, caught only by the corner of his eye at the time. It had been Monday morning and Stevie had just arrived at the scene at the chess table. Lucy had been walking toward the body when two people stopped her.

One had been Gwyn. The other had been as tall as a tree.

He crossed the parking lot to Thorne, the photo of Evan Reardon in his hand. But he didn't have a chance to say a word before the man turned on him, white-faced with rage.

'You.' Thorne grabbed his lapels. 'You were supposed to protect her. Where were you?'

JD had to force the true words to the side for the moment. Lucy was the focus, not his own guilt. 'Look at this picture. Do you know him?'

Thorne's hands dropped to his sides, face immediately changing from terrified and furious to blank with the shock of recognition. 'This is Royce. Gwyn's boyfriend. This is him? This is who has Lucy? Who killed Kevin?'

And at least nine others. 'Yeah,' JD said roughly. And he has Lucy.

Shock became terror once again. 'Gwyn's with him,' Thorne said. 'Royce picked her up at my place last night, late. Oh God. He's got them both. They're all I have.'

Thorne's family, JD realized. But Lucy is mine. He'll kill her.

Stay calm. Focus. Be a robot. He called on the calm he'd long ago learned to muster, felt it settle on his shoulders like a mantle. 'We have Reardon's face all over town. Every TV and newspaper will be asking for help. We'll find them.' We have to.

Thorne's eyes were desperate. 'What can I do? We have to get them back.'

'Where and when did Royce and Gwyn meet?' JD asked briskly. Tonelessly.

'A few months ago. He came into the club, said a mutual friend had told him to look Gwyn up. Gwyn remembered the name. She'd known Royce's friend from the circus.'

'Who knew Gwyn was in the circus?'

'Everyone. It's part of her resume.'

'Lucy said Gwyn would sleep at his place. Where was that?'

'I don't know exactly.' Thorne closed his eyes. 'She brings me doughnuts from a place called DoughBoyz, with a z. She said it was near his building. That's all I know.'