Книга - To Die For

To Die For
Sharon Green


HE WAS TALL, STRONG AND DETERMINED…And Mike Gerard was the best detective the police academy had ever bred. Tanda Grail desperately needed help finding answers about her brother's death, and Mike, with his virile magnetism and rock-solid manliness, was like Galahad with a badge.While the cop in Mike wanted to know what secrets Tanda might have uncovered, the man in him wnated to know how she had affected him as no woman ever had before. Her determination to involve herself in his investigation had Mike vowing to protect Tanda at all costs and to bring her brother's murderer to justice. But did honor and duty alone motivate him, or did he also hope to capture himself a bride?







OFFICIAL STATS





Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

The holidays are upon us again. This year, remember to give yourself a gift—the gift of great romantic suspense from Harlequin Intrigue!

In the exciting conclusion to TEXAS CONFIDENTIAL, The Outsider’s Redemption (#593) by Joanna Wayne, Cody Gannon must make a life-and-death decision. Should he trust his fellow agents even though there may be a traitor among their ranks? Or should he trust Sarah Rand, a pregnant single mother-to-be, who may be as deadly as she is beautiful?

Another of THE SUTTON BABIES is on the way, in Lullaby and Goodnight (#594) by Susan Kearney. When Rafe Sutton learns Rhianna McCloud is about to have his baby, his honor demands that he protect her from a determined and mysterious stalker. But Rafe must also discover the stalker’s connection to the Sutton family—before it’s too late!

An unlikely partnership is forged in To Die For (#595) by Sharon Green. Tanda Grail is determined to find her brother’s killer. Detective Mike Gerard doesn’t want a woman distracting him while on a case. But when push comes to shove, is it Mike’s desire to catch a killer that propels him, or his desire for Tanda?

First-time Harlequin Intrigue author Morgan Hayes makes her debut with Tall, Dark and Wanted (#596). Policewoman Molly Sparling refuses to believe Mitch Drake is dead. Her former flame and love of her life is missing from Witness Protection, but her superior tracking skills find him hiding out. While the cop in her wants to bring him in, the woman in her wants him to trust her. But Mitch just plain wants her back….

Wishing you the happiest of holidays from all of us at Harlequin Intrigue!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue


To Die For

Sharon Green






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Sharon Green was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, attended New York University and graduated with a B.A. in English and a minor in government. She is the proud mother of three sons, Andy, Brian and Curtis. She has worked for AT&T as a shareowner correspondent, then as an all-around assistant in a construction company, then sold bar steel for an import firm. She left that job as assistant sales manager. She has been writing full-time since 1984.

Her hobbies include knitting, crocheting, Tae Kwon Do, fencing, archery, shooting, jigsaw puzzles, logic problems, math problems, not cooking.

She is a well-known science fiction author and has written thirty-eight novels in four different subgenres.

She makes her home in Franklin, Tennessee.




Books by Sharon Green


HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

152—HAUNTED HOUSE

224—WEREWOLF MOON

244—FANTASY MAN

595—TO DIE FOR










CAST OF CHARACTERS


Mike Gerard—A detective lieutenant working to capture a serial killer before any more innocent lives are claimed.

Tanda Grail—She had ties to three of the murder victims. How long would it be before the murderer decided Tanda should be a victim herself?

Don Grail—The first murder victim and Tanda’s estranged brother. Could a mysterious key hold the answer to his death?

Roger Saxon—A private investigator hired by Tanda to find her brother’s killer, he never expected he’d become the fourth victim.

Rena Foreman—The police sergeant who was replaced on the murder cases by Mike.

Larry Othar—Rena’s detective partner.

Oscar Relling—Victim right after Roger Saxon, someone Tanda met through her brother.

Arthur Weddoes—Don Grail’s attorney.

Richard Draper, Miles Rayburn, Lawrence Ransom, Jocelyn Geroux, Howard Ullman, and Mark King—Members of a group being blackmailed by the serial killer.


For Pamela Crippen Adams, without whom this book couldn’t have been written.




Contents


Chapter One (#ubdb8b5b4-924c-5de0-b7bf-ea4c45cce6d4)

Chapter Two (#u58ba3e54-15da-53bc-be5a-50d746625bc0)

Chapter Three (#u59e03cbd-0595-50da-ae0e-8731dc6ffccd)

Chapter Four (#u10d624de-2777-5b85-8fbc-dcd11dd7c5e6)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


It was raining when Lieutenant Mike Gerard got to the motel, but rain in August doesn’t come down cold even in Connecticut. Stuffy was what it was, making it uncomfortable to wear a raincoat. But the uniformed cops from the units already on the scene were in raincoats, one way of picking them out from the crowd of gapers they were keeping back.

“Sergeant Renquist is inside waiting for you, Lieutenant,” one of the uniforms told him as he got out of his car. “He’s pretty sure it’s another one.”

“Make sure you keep the press away until the lab people are finished,” Mike said, ignoring the rain. “They almost mucked up the last murder scene, and I don’t want it happening again.”

The man nodded and turned back to help the others with the crowd, leaving Mike to enter the motel unit alone. Once inside, though, he was no longer alone. The forensics team was already there in the usual mob, working over every inch of the room.

“The body’s over here, Mike,” Art Renquist called. The room’s bed stood to the left and Art was just beyond it, looking down at what lay on the floor. Art looked as rumpled and tired as Mike felt, and the extra ten years of age Art carried made his appearance that much worse for wear. Mike circled the unmade bed, and joined Art’s inspection.

“The doc thinks he’ll find the same twelve stab wounds,” Art told him, gesturing to the bloody corpse. “And if that letter opener isn’t one of the set, then I’m Santa Claus. Once we get the note loose, we’ll be able to compare the handwriting.”

Mike nodded as he stared at the corpse, sickened more by the implications than by the terrible sight. This was the fifth victim murdered in the same way, which once again confirmed that there was a psychopath on the loose. Whoever the perpetrator was, he left precisely twelve stab wounds in the body, then attached a note to it by putting a letter opener through the note and into one of the wounds.

“‘From your secret admirer,’” Mike muttered, wondering for the thousandth time what that meant. It had been printed in awkward block letters on all of the notes, set off by the presence of the letter opener. The opener was silver-bladed and gold-handled, a meaningless design in black on the gold handle, a shocking-pink ribbon tied just below the handle. The letter openers looked as though they should be given to friends as inexpensive gifts, not left in a handful of dead bodies.

“The victim’s name was Roger Saxon, but he registered day before yesterday as Roger Brown,” Art said, consulting a small notebook. “According to the ID in his wallet, he was a private detective from New York. But there’s nothing to say he was here on business. Since it’s Sunday we can’t check with his office, so that’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“How about his cash?” Mike asked, turning away from the body. “Is it still in his wallet, or missing?”

“Gone, just like with the other victims,” Art answered with a humorless smile. “Aren’t you glad they dumped this on you when the fourth body turned up? That’ll teach you to be the best cop in the state.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Mike answered with a grimace. “I was lucky a few months ago, and that’s the way my report read. I think the chief is hoping I’ll get lucky a second time, because if we don’t get this psychopath soon, he could be out of a job.”

“And we’ll be on the unemployment line right along with him,” Art grumbled. “Why would somebody who kills like this take whatever cash his victim has? He’s not trying to make it look like a robbery, or he’d take watches and jewelry and credit cards too. What could he possibly be doing?”

“He’s trying to tell us who he is,” Mike said, having spent a lot of time considering the point. “It’s probably the best clue we have, but we haven’t been able to read it. Once we do—”

“Excuse me, Lieutenant, but there’s a lady outside who says she has to talk to you,” a uniformed officer interrupted suddenly. “She said to tell you she knows the victim.”

“If she isn’t a reporter, you can bring her in,” Mike said as he looked around. “I’ll talk to her over there near the television set, where the lab crew has already finished.”

The officer nodded and went back out into the rain, and Art put a hand on Mike’s sleeve.

“I wish you the best of luck, buddy,” he said with a grin that was too worried to look amused. “If this is the break we’ve been waiting for, take pity on all of us and don’t blow it.”

“Art, he said she knew the victim, not the murderer,” Mike pointed out with a shake of his head. “Try to take it easy, will you? We’ll catch him, and before we all get tossed out.”

“Try to make that ‘before the next body,’” Art suggested, looking at him with haunted eyes. “Five of these is five too many, and don’t forget that one was a woman. I don’t think I could take another one like that.”

Mike watched Art walk away, finally understanding what was really bothering him. It had taken Art two bad marriages and a lot of years before he found a woman to be in love with. Since they were dealing with a crazy, the next victim could be anyone at all and women weren’t safe. Art was picturing himself arriving at a crime scene to find the woman he loved as the victim.

There’s something to be said for being alone, Mike thought as he moved to the area near the TV. Usually the loneliness was a black gap in his life dating back even before the divorce, but every now and then it was shaded with relief.

“Excuse me, but are you Lieutenant Gerard?” a low, pleasant voice asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. “The officer said I was to talk to a Lieutenant Gerard.”

“That’s me,” Mike acknowledged, turning to look down at the woman who had just come in carrying an umbrella. She was somewhere in her mid-to late-twenties, with dark blond hair and gray eyes. Jeans and a T-shirt covered a good figure, and she would have been prettier if her face hadn’t looked so drawn. “You told the officer that you knew the victim?”

“More than that,” she said, guilt clear in the gray gaze coming up at him. “I hired him, so his being dead is my fault. There’s no law to hold me responsible, but there should be. There should be.”

She brought one hand up to cover her mouth, the gesture holding off the hysteria that obviously wanted to claim her. Mike moved forward quickly to put a comforting arm around her, impressed in spite of himself. Instead of hesitating, she’d immediately come forward with what she knew. Most people would have tried to hide their connection, hoping at the same time to bury their feelings of guilt.

“Why don’t you and I go and get ourselves some coffee at the diner next door?” Mike suggested after a moment, then began to urge the young woman back toward the door. “Once we’re comfortable, you can tell me all about it.”

There was no resistance as he guided the woman out and away from the crowd of onlookers. Happily the media hadn’t gotten here yet, so he and the woman were able to walk quietly to the diner only a few feet beyond the motel.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” Mike said once they were seated in a booth. “What’s your name, and why did you hire a private detective?”

“My name is Tanda Grail,” the woman answered, running a hand through her hair. “If the name sounds familiar to you, it should. My brother Don was the first victim of that maniac.”

Mike hid his surprise, but not his interest. Don Grail had been found dead a week earlier in his rental car, starting the chain of bodies that hadn’t yet stopped. Mike had only been working the case since the fourth victim, which was why he hadn’t recognized the first victim’s sister.

“And you hired a private detective because the police weren’t getting anywhere with finding your brother’s murderer,” Mike suggested. As a guess it was the next thing to a certainty, and Tanda looked at him with defiant gray eyes.

“It’s been a whole week and the bodies just keep piling up,” she challenged, bleakness behind the defiant tone.

“After the third body was found I knew you would never catch the killer, so I went shopping for someone who might. Saxon’s agency was recommended to me by a friend, so I called them. After explaining that they couldn’t do anything to interfere with the police investigation, they sent Saxon to look around. After being here only a day and a half he called me last night to say he discovered something totally unexpected, and would give me a full report this morning. When I got here and saw all those police cars…”

“You knew that someone had noticed his discovering that ‘something unexpected,’” Mike finished when she didn’t. Frustration was climbing high and trying to smother him, but losing his temper would have been a waste of time. “I wish to hell people would learn to call the police first and their favorite gossip partners second. The morgue would have a lot fewer bodies that way.”

“We were supposed to talk to the police together,” she offered, at least having the decency to look embarrassed. “That way he would not be acting behind my back, and I’d be there to explain why he was here. The agency said police departments don’t like having private investigations into cases they’re working on.”

“But we do enjoy being given leads when we’re at a dead end,” Mike said, trying to sound a bit more reasonable. The woman had lost her brother, after all. “Was there anything else Saxon told you last night? Any comment at any time, no matter how unrelated it sounded? Did he keep any files, take any notes?”

“He had a file with the newspaper articles on each of the murders,” she said. “I supplied that, and the first day he was here he double-checked the papers to be sure I hadn’t missed anything. He kept a small notebook, where he wrote down directions and things.”

“And about what he told you?” Mike prompted, leaning on the table with both arms. “Is there anything you can add to what you’ve already said?”

“Saxon laughed and said it was the purest kind of luck.” The frown on her face was one of concentration, and somehow, Mike noticed, the expression made her look unexpectedly attractive. “Saxon said if it had been anyone else who was sent here—well, the implication was no one else would have spotted what he did. What I don’t understand is how he could have let the murderer get close enough to kill him. He didn’t strike me as a stupid man, so how did it happen?”

“There are any number of reasons why he made the mistake,” Mike said, glad to see that she was already shaking off the guilt. “Even professionals get caught by surprise, especially if they underestimate their quarry. Saxon seemed to be a fairly big man, and almost certainly believed he could take care of himself. If you depend on greater size or even superior ability when dealing with a psychopath, you need to have your head examined. Ready for that coffee yet?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she answered, giving him a tentative smile. “I still feel responsible for Roger’s death, but you’ve made it a little easier for me. Thank you, Lieutenant Gerard.”

“Call me Mike,” he said, gesturing to a waitress for two of something to drink. When the woman held up the coffeepot Mike nodded, then looked at Tanda again. “I can understand how impatient you felt, but now there’s a way for you to help. Are you willing?”

“Of course,” Tanda agreed with raised eyebrows. “No matter what you happen to ask for in the way of that help, I’ll give it if I can. I was willing long before this.”

“But before this we didn’t have something for you to be willing about,” Mike countered, leaning back to let the waitress put a cup in front of him. Once they both had coffee and the woman was gone, he continued, “Roger Saxon saw something while he was here that turned him into a victim. Aside from the murderer, you’re the only one who knows where he went. Will you help me to retrace his movements?”

“Try and stop me,” she said, now looking doggedly determined. “But what about the second half of the problem? From what Roger said, it was something he originally learned elsewhere that gave him the real hint. How do we find out what that something was?”

“I do that finding out, by contacting his agency,” Mike answered quickly. Tanda was faster at understanding than he’d thought she’d be, and he was pleasantly surprised. “We’ll certainly have to go back years in his life, and simply hope we get lucky. If the incident wasn’t something he was publicly involved in…”

“We may never find it,” she summed up glumly when he let the sentence trail off. “But retracing his movements could give us a clue about what to look for, so let’s get started with that. When he got here day before yesterday, he registered at the motel then called for directions out to my place. He showed up about half an hour after the call.”

“Where is your place?” Mike asked, pulling out his notebook and a pen. “Close enough so that he might have stopped somewhere on the way?”

“Not really,” Tanda replied. “I have a place on Old Stage Road, and for me it’s only a fifteen-minute drive. For a stranger to find it you can add at least five minutes to that first fifteen, and another five if he didn’t leave the instant he hung up. If he stopped somewhere, it had to be on the way and at a place where he could be in and out.”

“I’ll drive it myself, and look for any possible stopping places,” Mike said, making a note. “How long did he stay?”

“About an hour or so,” Tanda estimated as she tasted her coffee. “I gave him the file of newspaper articles, and then he questioned me about my brother. It was the logical place to start, and I was expecting it. He also asked if I recognized any of the other victims from their pictures in the newspaper, and I said I didn’t.”

“And what did he ask about your brother?” Mike said. “Try to remember as many of the questions as you can.”

“Since my brother lived out of state, he asked how long he’d been here,” Tanda said, now staring down at her coffee cup. “I said Don got here August first, just the way he always does. He’s come back every August first for the last five years as a vacation of sorts, I guess. Then Roger asked me why my brother hadn’t been staying with me. That was when I had to admit I wouldn’t have let Don stay with me.”

Mike watched her as she fell silent, remembering reading parts of the statement she’d made when her brother’s body had first been found. It would have been nice if Mike could have spared her the need to go through the whole thing again, but Tanda Grail seemed determined not to hide anything at all.

“Don—Don wasn’t what you would call a nice person,” she groped, raising her gaze again as she tried to explain the condemnation. “When I was very young I adored my big brother, just the way everyone else seemed to. He had a charm about him that most people found irresistible. I think I must have been one of the first to notice that he used the charm to use people. You know, to get out of chores or have favors done for him?”

Mike nodded in answer to the question. He’d known people like that, just as everyone did.

“Our mother never did see through him, but Dad finally did,” Tanda continued. “There was some sort of trouble with the police, and when Dad brought Don home there was a big fight. Don kept insisting he was innocent, Mom supported him, Dad yelled that Don had been caught in the act. All Dad wanted Don to do was admit his guilt and show something in the way of remorse, I think. It didn’t happen, because the only thing Don was sorry about was the fact that he’d been caught.”

She paused to sip her coffee again, and then she shook her head.

“When I got home from school the next day, Don was gone. He’d taken the emergency money Mom kept in a jar behind the preserves, and had left with as many of his clothes as he could stuff into a single valise. It was obvious why he’d left, but Mom insisted he’d done it to keep from being railroaded. Not only did Dad lose the bail money he’d posted, but Mom made him offer money as reparation to the people accusing Don. If he hadn’t made the reparation, then the people involved wouldn’t have dropped the complaint against Don, and Don would have been a wanted man wherever he went.”

“And it never occurred to your mother that if you’re innocent you stay and fight,” Mike couldn’t help remarking. “Especially if your family is willing to stand behind you.”

“It wasn’t entirely Mom’s fault,” Tanda answered wearily. “Don never let her see the ugly side of him. All she knew was that Don was her son and she loved him. Mom kept insisting she understood why Don had disappeared like that, but he hadn’t even left her a note to say goodbye. When more and more time went by and there wasn’t a single word from him, she must have begun to suspect the truth. It made her grieve herself to death.”

Mike could see the anger in Tanda, remembered anger that was still strong. It made the cop in him stir uneasily, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Dad took her death hard, and when Don finally came back—three years after the day he disappeared—Dad refused even to see Don.” Tanda had taken a deep breath, and it seemed to have calmed her. “My big brother had apparently done very well for himself, and everything about him screamed money. He seemed to think we would welcome him back as soon as he paid for any inconvenience he might have caused…

“Well, Dad refused to talk to him, but I didn’t,” Tanda stated, defiance clear in her eyes again. “First I made him come up with the money Dad had thrown away getting him free of all charges, and then I told Don what I thought of him. Don didn’t stay for the whole speech—I guess the truth made him too uncomfortable—and although he was here the whole month, he never tried to come back to the house. It must have finally gotten through that we didn’t want to know him.”

“But now you’re trying to find the person who killed your brother,” Mike pointed out. “Are you doing it out of respect for your mother’s memory, or is there another reason?”

“My dad died less than a year ago,” Tanda said, now toying with her coffee cup. “I wouldn’t have gotten in touch with Don even if I’d known where he was, so I was shocked when he showed up for the funeral. He paid for everything, mourned alone, then left again without even trying to speak to me. He seemed…quieter than usual, somehow changed, and when he came back at the beginning of this month he sent a note asking me to have dinner with him.”

“And you went,” Mike said, knowing it for a fact. “Did you find out if he really was changed?”

“Maybe I was kidding myself,” she answered with a shrug and a sigh. “All I know is that his practiced charm wasn’t beating me over the head any longer, and what he wanted to talk about was our time as kids. I found out in passing that he was a widower, and I hadn’t even known he’d been married. I think it had finally come to him that he and I were the last of the family, and he was trying to make things right between us.”

“But before he could do it he was killed,” Mike summed up, finally understanding. “He might not have been serious about it, but now you’ll never know.”

“But I will know who killed him,” she said, staring at Mike fiercely. “It’s a final gesture I owe my brother, even if he wasn’t serious. What else can I tell you?”

“How about the details of your own whereabouts?” Mike said, taking advantage of the moment. “Saxon called you last night, and arranged to see you in person this morning. What time did he call, and where were you from then until you got here?”

“He called about seven-thirty last night,” she said, again frowning in thought. “I went to bed early, and was out by four this morning to track fugitives.”

“To do what?” Mike asked, looking up from his notebook to blink at her. “You couldn’t have said what I thought you did.”

“Oh, we weren’t tracking real fugitives,” she answered with a laugh that brightened her whole face. “It’s what the exercise is called, and I usually have friends doing the remote part. Teddy went first this morning, and she performed beautifully.”

“It’s obvious that I’m missing something here,” Mike said, still staring. “Who is Teddy, and what sort of exercises were you doing?”

“I thought you knew,” Tanda said with a smile replacing the laugh. “I raise and train bloodhounds, and right now Teddy is my star pupil. Yesterday afternoon one of my friends laid a trail through Rimsdale Mall, visiting certain prearranged stores before leaving by a specified exit. At four this morning Teddy followed that trail, and found every stop her quarry had made. Doing the tracking with no one around is to keep onlookers from getting upset.”

“But you said the trail was laid yesterday afternoon,” Mike protested. “Since the mall doesn’t close until 9:00 p.m., how could there still be a trail after so many people have walked over it? There’d be nothing left to follow.”

“For you and me, maybe, but not for a really good bloodhound,” Tanda corrected with amusement. “Teddy’s father once followed a trail that was laid through a site that was about to be used for a three-day Renaissance fair. He wasn’t put on the trail until the fair was over, but he still had no trouble. Very often the hardest part is to train your tracker to follow the trail, not shortcut to the end of it. If the trail is too short and the person being tracked is standing at the end of it, that’s what happens.”

“That’s something I’d like to see someday,” Mike said, seriously fascinated. “So you were out this morning tracking fugitives. Was there anyone with you?”

“Only Teddy and Masher,” Tanda admitted, losing her amusement. “They may be good trackers, but they lack something as witnesses. I hadn’t realized that I could end up being a suspect.”

“Right now I’m only collecting information,” Mike soothed, surprised to find that he didn’t consider Tanda a suspect. “Since your own movements can’t be confirmed, let’s go back to Saxon’s. You told him all about your brother, and then what did he do?”

“He asked about where Don had been staying, then wanted directions to the local newspaper office,” Tanda responded. “I told him about Don’s house, but I don’t know if he went to look at it.”

“That’s the house your brother bought and renovated five years ago?” Mike asked, remembering the reference to it in the case file. “I understand that he put a lot of money into the place, but only lived in it one month out of the year. Do you have any idea why he did that?”

“None,” she admitted. “It certainly wasn’t for the purpose of being close to Dad and me. We were never invited out to see the house. I understand he bought the place longer than five years ago, but didn’t do the renovations until then. Whatever, he didn’t even mention it at dinner.”

“Well, I think this is enough to get started with,” Mike said, closing his notebook. “I should have more information later today, and probably more questions to go with it. Will you be at home?”

“All day,” she said, finishing her coffee. “Feel free to come by with as many questions as you like. You’re very easy to talk to.”

“Most people would not agree with that sentiment,” Mike told her with his own amusement as they left the booth. And to be honest, he’d just been thinking the same about her… “I’ll try to call before dropping in.”

“Fine,” she said with a smile, offering her hand. “Thanks for the coffee—and the understanding ear.”

“Understanding your situation isn’t terribly difficult,” Mike said, liking the firm way she took his hand. “Losing a brother is the hard part of life. You may not have liked your brother, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t love him.”

She looked as though she was about to say something else, then apparently thought better of it. After retrieving her umbrella she left the diner, unaware of the way Mike’s gaze followed.

You’d better watch that, old man, he thought as he stopped to pay for the coffee. No matter what you said, she is a suspect, and it won’t do you any good to let gray eyes make you forget that. She isn’t the first attractive woman you’ve met, so get a grip on yourself.

With that firm advice ringing in his head he went back out into the rain, but it didn’t do the good he’d been hoping for. He never had met a woman like Tanda Grail before, and it was more than the possibility of new answers that made him look forward to their next meeting. Maybe he would even find an excuse to ask her out to dinner…

TANDA GRAIL CLIMBED into her van, then sat there for a moment with her eyes closed behind the hand covering them. Events around her were growing from bad dream to nightmare, and she had already begun to feel helpless to stop them. But that didn’t mean she intended to quit on the promise she’d made herself. She would find the one who had killed Don, and make sure he or she faced everything the law demanded.

Through the rain-soaked windshield Tanda saw Lieutenant Gerard come out of the diner and head back toward the motel. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed, handsome in a tired, overworked way. He wasn’t the police officer she’d spoken to when Don’s body had first been found, but he should have been. There was something about the man, something that said he knew what he was doing.

Which meant she would have to be very careful. Her resolve had caused her to make a mistake and call in an outsider, and now an innocent man was dead. She should have handled the investigation herself to begin with, which was what she intended to do from now on. The police would gather the clues, she would work on them in her own way, and then—

And then she would find the person who had caused her to be all alone in the world.




Chapter Two


Mike Gerard got back to his office in a thoughtful mood. This newest victim just might have given him a lead the death was supposed to have prevented, and it was certainly worth checking into. But not if it had already been checked, which was the first thing he had to find out.

Detective Sergeant Rena Foreman sat at her desk, leaning back in her chair while she argued desultorily with her partner, Detective Larry Othar. The two were always arguing about something, a clear sign that as partners they were really close. Rena was tall and slender with auburn hair and blue eyes, and Larry was tall and broad-shouldered with brown hair and blue eyes. They were also good cops, but that hadn’t kept them from being replaced as team leaders of the serial-killings case when the fourth body was found.

The brass was being screamed at by the press and public alike, so they wanted action and an arrest as quickly as possible. When they hadn’t gotten the arrest by the time the third body was discovered, they’d put Mike in charge instead of calling in the FBI.

“Hey, you two,” Mike said, approaching Rena and Larry. “I need to ask you about your part of the serial-killings investigation. How much of a background check did you do on each of the victims?”

“The checks were routine but fairly thorough,” Rena answered. “We knew where the victims came from because of their ID’s, so we checked with the police in those places. Our counterparts confirmed that the victims were who we thought they were, but there was nothing in the way of records or files on the deceased parties.”

“And that first victim, Don Grail, is originally from around here,” Larry added. “He’d gotten into some trouble as a kid, but his old man managed to get the charges dropped. Something about getting into an argument with a girl, and starting to beat up on her. The argument was loud enough that somebody called the cops, and they got there before Grail did worse than slap her around a little. The girl and her family were the first ones we checked, but they’d all moved away years ago and never came back.”

“We traced them to Colorado, and the locals checked for us,” Rena continued. “Every one of them was accounted for, including the girl’s present husband. She was in the hospital having her third child, the rest of the family and the husband were there with her, and none of them had left the state for at least two years.”

“And this is more involved than a simple revenge killing,” Mike said with a nod, showing them he knew they’d realized that. “You did exactly what I would have done—and did do—with the fourth victim, but now there’s something to add to the rest. Victim number five was a private detective brought in by victim number one’s sister.”

Rena and Larry both exclaimed in surprise over that, and Mike gave them a quick rundown. After telling them what the dead man had said to Tanda Grail, he added, “So that means Saxon saw someone he knew, but not from the city and probably not from his work for the agency. If he’s the only one who could have spotted whoever he did spot, that tells us we have to look into Saxon’s past life. Private detectives are often retired cops. If Saxon happened to be one, where did he live and work? If it was another agency he’d been with, again, when and where?”

“What makes you think it was a person he saw?” Rena asked. “Maybe he spotted some thing, and was able to recognize it because he came from a small-town area like this one, and everyone else at the agency is city-raised.”

“That’s a possibility that should be checked, but I don’t think it’s what happened,” Mike answered with a distracted head shake. “Spotting some thing would not have gotten the man killed unless some body went along with the thing, which leads us back to an individual. And there’s one more job that has to be done—take the pictures and prints of all five victims, and have them sent along the network to the entire country. None of the victims have police records where they live, but how about elsewhere? And see if you can find out where they were all supposed to be before they turned up here and dead.”

“According to his sister, Grail was supposed to be nowhere but here,” Larry offered. “Grail came back here every year on August first, and stayed for the whole month.”

“Which he’d been doing for five years,” Mike agreed, remembering what Tanda had told him. “Take another look at who he associated with while he was here, where he went and what he did. Your first investigation said he kept to himself, but that doesn’t feel right. People go home to show off for the people they used to know, especially if they make it as big as Grail did. If they go home to hide, they stay longer than a single month. And why hide for just one month of the year? Did August mean something special to Grail? Did his friends know about it back where he came from? If August has nothing to do with the murder, I want to know so we can forget about it.”

“We’ll get back to you with whatever we find,” Larry said as he reached for the phone, Rena doing the same. “Damn, but it feels good to actually have something to work on with this case.”

Mike understood how the man felt, so he left Larry and Rena alone to go back to his small office, where he took care of paperwork while he waited for the preliminary report on Roger Saxon. He wasn’t expecting the report to tell him anything he didn’t know, not unless this was the time the killer had made his first mistake. If it was…

Well, no sense in daydreaming. Mike brought himself back to the present with a shake of his head, then buckled down to finishing that paperwork. It needed to be done before he could leave to interview Tanda Grail again, an interview he was definitely looking forward to. But not because she’d given him his first real lead, and might somehow give him another of the same. Despite knowing better than to get involved with a possible suspect, he realized it was the woman herself he wanted to see. There was just something about her…

IT WAS STILL DRIZZLING when Tanda reached home, but pulling the van into the carport meant she didn’t have to use her umbrella. Not that the umbrella would have helped. Tanda was already so damp that nothing but a change of clothes would help.

For once, walking into the house didn’t give Tanda the usual feeling of being safely home. The kitchen, usually so bright and cheerful in yellow and white with touches of red, looked as drab and gray as the weather. Tanda remembered when her father had redone the kitchen for her mother, adding the surprise of a brand-new gas range. He’d been trying to bring some happiness into the life of a woman who grieved endlessly for a missing son, but it hadn’t worked. The heartbroken woman had still grieved herself to death, and the gift had gone unappreciated by anyone but Tanda.

Now she stood and looked around, finally understanding why a new kitchen hadn’t distracted her mother. She, herself, would give that kitchen and all the rest of the house to find her brother’s murderer and bring that person to justice. She still didn’t know if Don had seriously changed or had been playing some kind of game, and now she’d never know the truth. The chance to find out had been stolen from her, along with the last member of her family; for that she would find the guilty person, even if she had to do it alone.

Tanda went through the kitchen into the hall, and from there to her bedroom. The large room had originally belonged to her parents, and after her father died it had taken Tanda six months to make up her mind to use it. It wasn’t as if she’d really believed her parents had gone off for just a little while and would return very shortly. It was more that the realization they were gone forever had to be actively accepted, and that had hurt. She hadn’t been able to ease the pain until Don took her to dinner a couple of weeks earlier, and now…

Rather than going through it all again, Tanda forced herself to drop the subject and change her clothes. Once into dry clothing she went into her old room where she’d set up an office, then sat down to do some work. People who do business with you may sympathize when tragedy strikes your life, but they still don’t enjoy having their business unduly delayed.

Tanda worked for a couple of hours, paying bills, adding to her monthly supply list, answering letters from people. There were those people who wanted to buy a trained bloodhound, and those people who already had dogs and simply wanted them trained. Of course, the second group never understood that their request wasn’t all that simple. Dogs, like people, don’t always do what they’re able to, and some are better at the doing than others. Teddy, for example, had taken to the training immediately, while one of her litter brothers had had to be sold as a pet. He’d had no interest in tracking, and hadn’t even been willing to notice a fresh scent, let alone one that was days or a week old—

Suddenly Tanda sat straight, silently cursing herself for being an idiot. Her brother’s body had been found in his rental car not half a mile away, but no one had known why he’d been there. He certainly hadn’t come to visit her, otherwise he would have driven all the way to the house. The police were assuming that Don had gone to the spot to meet someone, and either that particular someone or somebody following one or the other of them was the murderer. But what if he’d parked there to go somewhere on foot, and knowing where he’d gone would point to who had killed him? Not once had she thought to check the possibility, but it might not be too late. That pup that had to be sold would never have been able to follow a scent better than a week old, but his sire was a dog of another color.

Once she’d made up her mind, Tanda didn’t hesitate. Her first stop was her brother’s old room, where she’d put the clothes the police had given to her after going through them. Their laboratory hadn’t been able to find anything in the clothes, but hopefully they hadn’t ruined Don’s scent on his shirt.

Once Tanda had stuffed the shirt into a spare plastic bag and that into a shoulder bag, she went out to the runs which were to the right about fifteen feet from the house. Happily, it had stopped raining by then, so she didn’t need to choose between fooling with an umbrella or getting wet. Only three of the five dogs she had were currently in training, and two of those, Teddy and Masher, were from the same litter. The third, Angel, belonged to someone attached to a police department in Rhode Island, and he would be going back to his owner once his training was finished. Teddy and her brother Masher were already sold, and since their training was almost complete, they would be leaving first.

Which left Robby and Merry, her first breeding pair. Merry was sweet and a top-notch tracker, but Robby was something special. His long, homely face had bright, eager eyes, and he’d never failed to follow any trail that was definitely, even if faintly, there. He might be a plain, light brown mass of furry wrinkles and drool, but to Tanda he was downright beautiful.

“All right, you bunch, settle down,” she told the dogs, who had quickly come to the front of their runs at her appearance. “This time I need a professional, so it’s Robby’s turn. The rest of you can watch and learn.”

Once Tanda had put Robby on a lead, the dog obviously expected to be taken to the van, but Tanda had already decided against driving. If someone saw her out with one of her dogs only half a mile away from home, they couldn’t possibly consider it suspicious. If they saw her drive a dog there, though, they could only conclude she was there to snoop.

“Which is just what we will be there for, but we don’t have to advertise it,” she told Robby as she headed him away from the van. “Whoever killed Don and the detective I hired would be stupid not to keep an eye on me, and I don’t think he’s stupid. We’ll have to look around carefully before we start.”

Tanda took Robby along the tar road leading to Old Stage Road at a pace close to strolling, and once they reached the blacktop she casually headed them left. The side of the road was muddy from the rain, but it wasn’t so bad that they had to leave the shoulder and walk either on the blacktop or in the grass and bushes. That area had a small number of houses like Tanda’s, each of them isolated with woods all around, and from the blacktop they were hard, if not impossible, to see.

It was still overcast and very humid, especially under all those trees, but Tanda moved along as if enjoying a simple walk. While pretending to give the neighborhood a pleased and casual inspection, she tried very hard to see if anyone was watching her. If they were it would have to be from the woods, so she kept an eye on Robby. A watcher might be able to hide from her, but her dog would know immediately if someone was there. He might not do anything about it, but he would certainly know.

Half a mile isn’t far to walk for someone used to working with tracking dogs, and it also didn’t take very long. The place where Don had been found was a small, cleared area just off the road, half again as long as a large car, wide enough for two cars to park side by side. It was a place for someone with car trouble to stop, or someone who simply wanted to sit for a while and look at the woods. It was also a place where people could meet secretly, especially at night, when the normally light traffic turned to nothing coming by at all.

Tanda stopped a few feet away and stared at the spot, searching inwardly for the strength to go nearer. That was where her brother, Don, had been killed, the place where his body had been found by the police. She hadn’t come this way since the murder, and now she knew she’d been wise. It was almost possible to picture the murder, Don suspecting nothing until the knife appeared, then—what? Did he scream and try to get away? Did he beg for mercy? Try to fight?

“Stop it!” she whispered to herself, struggling against the need to shudder. “You can’t change what happened, but you might be able to help keep it from happening again. You came here to do something, so go ahead and do it.”

Robby stood watching her as he waited patiently, and he paid no attention to the surrounding woods. That should mean they weren’t under observation, so there would hardly be a better time. It was more than possible that Don hadn’t gotten out of his car to go somewhere on foot, but if he had and there was anything of a trail left…

After taking one final look around, Tanda reached into her shoulder bag. While taking out Don’s shirt, she walked Robby into the center of the clearing, then bent to give her dog the scent and the command, “Find him!” Robby seemed to have no trouble taking the scent, and then he began to cast around, searching for a matching scent on the ground. Oh, please let it be here, Tanda prayed silently as she watched. And if the scent is here, please let it be enough for Robby to find…

And then, with his usual baying bark, Robby announced that her prayers had been answered. After a full week of time, through the scents of dozens of people, and even after a rain, her dog had found enough of a scent to follow. Filled with incredible pride and an ocean of relief, Tanda let him take the lead to follow the trail.

Robby immediately led the way into the woods, back in the direction from which they’d come. Tanda looked around as they went, remembering that section of woods from the time of her childhood. She’d played and explored all through it, just as Don had before her. Could he have used the woods as a shortcut to wherever he’d been going? Could he have had an idea about what would happen, and managed to leave a clue of some sort hidden in the woods?

Question after question filled Tanda’s mind, but they didn’t keep her from continually looking around when she wasn’t watching Robby. She’d stuffed the shirt back in her purse once it had served its purpose, mostly to get it out of the way. If anyone saw her, they’d hardly need sight of the shirt to figure out that she was meddling. Oh, hurry, Robby, please hurry…

And Robby didn’t disappoint her. At one point he lost the trail, but casting around let him pick it up again beyond the point it had been lost. With full confidence he led her on, and when Tanda knew their destination for certain, she was stunned.

“But how can that be?” she whispered aloud, staring as they approached her own house. “He didn’t come to see me that night, I know he didn’t. What’s going on?”

Robby, the only one within hearing, didn’t answer, but he also didn’t stop. He led her directly to the house and around to the back on the right, avoiding the runs to the left. Once in the back he hesitated momentarily by a tree, then went directly for the closed wooden doors leading to the cellar. The doors were still closed, which stopped Robby and made him bay with frustration. Obviously the trail led through the doors, which were usually kept locked. When Tanda leaned closer, she saw that the lock had been ruined with metal cutters.

“And I never even noticed,” she muttered, disgusted with herself for having missed something so obvious. She might have had other things on her mind during the past week, but still… “All right, Robby, calm down. I’ll open the doors for you.”

Once she did, the dog went unhesitatingly down the stairs. Now Tanda was busy wondering what Don could have wanted in the cellar, the possibility of his having taken something a strong one. It would have to have been something Tanda would never have parted with if she’d been asked, so what could it be? She didn’t keep anything valuable in the cellar, not even things of sentimental value. So what—

Her churning mind quieted a second time, but now with a guess bordering on certainty. Robby had led her to the shelves her mother had used for preserves, still filled with the empty jars that had been there for years. The dog was casting around to find where the trail would pick up again, but Tanda knew they’d reached the end of it. After stopping here Don had retraced his steps, unknowingly reinforcing the track his sister would follow after his death.

Dropping the leash and her purse, Tanda walked slowly up to the shelves. It would be on the shelf at eye level, she knew, the place her mother had decided was safest for hidden money. Easily reached but not easily seen, at least for adults. Two children, one after the other, had had no trouble spotting the hiding place. The shelves were so well built and solid, they’d been perfect for rainy-day climbing on…

It was dark in the cellar even with the doors open, but pulling the cord of the hanging light took care of the problem. The next step was gently pushing aside the jars in front, dust-covered jars with lids protecting their insides. Behind was the one jar standing alone, this one without a lid. At first glance it looked empty, which brought stabbing disappointment to Tanda. But then she lifted the jar—

And heard the clank of metal on glass! Inside the jar was a key, and when Tanda spilled the key out onto her palm she knew it was one she’d never seen before. Don must have left it, in the spot he’d once stolen money from, but what did it mean? What was it a key to, and why hadn’t he told her he was going to leave it? And, even more importantly, did his murderer know she had it?

The chill that came with that thought was immediate, and then Tanda jumped at the sudden pounding on her front door. Had the murderer seen her tracking something, and decided she was a loose end that needed eliminating? But it couldn’t happen now, not when she’d just found an important clue! Robby growled while Tanda trembled and tried to decide what to do. She would first see who it was, and then—and then—

Would she still be alive to have to worry about it…?




Chapter Three


Mike Gerard knocked on the door again, seriously beginning to worry. Tanda Grail had said she would be home, and her van was parked next to the house under the carport. There wasn’t anyplace around there for her to have gone on foot, and it looked as if it was going to rain again. With all that in mind, where could she possibly—

“Oh, Lieutenant Gerard,” a surprised voice said, and Mike turned to see Tanda Grail. She had a bloodhound on a leash, and the two of them had apparently come around the side of the house. “That’s right, you said you’d be coming by. I’m afraid I managed to forget.”

Mike wondered why she sounded relieved as well as apologetic, but he was too relieved himself to waste time on the thought. He hadn’t known Tanda long, but the last thing he wanted was to find her as the next victim.

“I hope I’m not interrupting something important,” he said, gesturing to the dog on the lead. “As a police officer, it would be wrong of me to get in the way of someone tracking fugitives.”

“Oh, we’ve already caught our fugitives,” Tanda told him with a laugh that brightened her pretty face. “Just give me a minute to put him back in his run, and then I’ll be with you.”

Mike nodded without speaking, then stood and watched her with the dog. She patted the bloodhound and told him what a good boy he was, then led him to an empty metal-mesh run. Once the dog was inside the run with the gate closed she came back, folding the leash she’d removed from his collar.

“I have to admit I’m surprised you use runs,” Mike said as she rejoined him. “I was picturing at least one dog in your house, if not all of them.”

“Only someone who likes slobber keeps bloodhounds in their house,” she answered with a smile. “I consider my dogs wonderful people and I love them, but I don’t feel the same about slobber. Come on in.”

She showed the front door was unlocked by simply opening it and walking through. As he followed her, Mike was tempted to point out how dangerous a practice that was, especially with a murderer running around loose. Then he realized she might just have been out back with her dog, and decided to save the comment for another time.

“Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” she asked over her shoulder as he closed the door and followed her. The living room they passed through was plain but neat, a gold-and-brown flower pattern on the couch and chairs and drapes. The light gold carpeting and dark-wood furniture, along with the rest, gave Mike the impression that it was all a holdover from an earlier era, probably her parents’. Tanda Grail lived in that house, but hadn’t yet put her own stamp on it.

“I’ll have coffee if you’re having some,” he answered her offer as he followed her into the kitchen. “Which means yes, thank you, I’d love a cup, so I hope you are having some.”

“I admire a man who won’t drink alone,” she said with a small laugh, glancing at him as she headed for her kitchen counter. “Personally, I drink alone all the time, but then I’m not a man, so it’s all right. Have a seat.”

“You seem to be in a really good mood,” Mike said, going to one of the chairs around the heavy wooden table she’d gestured toward. “Has something happened to make you feel better than you were feeling this morning? If so, I could use some of the same myself.”

“I—just enjoy working with my dogs,” she answered without turning, all her attention on the mugs she filled. “It’s always such a pleasure, at least once they’re past the awkward-puppy stage. I’m afraid that’s all it is, so there really isn’t anything to share.”

She turned then with a coffee mug in each hand, and the direct way she looked at him told Mike immediately that she was lying. People who had no experience with lying always seemed to do that, look straight at you to show how sincere they were being. So something had happened, even though he couldn’t imagine what it might have been.

“Thank you,” he said as she set one of the mugs down in front of him, then headed toward the refrigerator for milk or cream. “Coffee usually helps me to think, but right now my thoughts aren’t cooperating. They insist on centering around how foolish Saxon was, especially for a supposedly experienced detective. If he’d had enough sense to think the thing through, he might not be dead now.”

“What do you mean?” Tanda asked, coming back with a creamer and sitting in front of her own coffee. “What didn’t he think through?”

“I mean, Ms. Grail, that he didn’t stop to remember that four people had been killed.” Mike spoke gently but stared straight at her, refusing to release that bright gray gaze. “When four people are stabbed to death by someone, that someone isn’t a person you want to fool around with. You can tell yourself they don’t know what you know, or that you can handle them if they find out—and that’s probably what Saxon did. He told himself those things, and ended up just as dead as the first four. If he’d gone to the police first thing, he might still be alive.”

Tanda’s gray eyes had widened, and she looked as though she ought to be biting her lip. Mike hadn’t enjoyed frightening her, but everything he’d said was the truth. He couldn’t force her to tell him what she knew, but if she didn’t speak up she had to understand and believe that she could end up like her brother. Indecision flashed in those eyes, and then she was staring at him in a totally different way.

“But if Roger had gone to the police, isn’t it possible he would have just put more people in danger?” she asked, leaning forward with the intensity of her feelings. “The police are just human beings, after all, and they can be killed as easily as anyone. Instead of one new body you could have had four or five, and most of them your own people.”

“But don’t you see that couldn’t have happened?” Mike countered just as intensely. “It’s possible to kill one person to keep a secret, but when a dozen people know, it’s no longer a secret. It would have been written down, put in the computer, mentioned to people on the phone…Once a secret is shared in that many ways, it’s no longer a secret that can get you hurt or killed. Sharing a secret keeps everyone alive.”

Mike knew he was repeating himself, but if it made Tanda Grail rethink her position, he was willing to say the same thing a hundred times. And she was thinking things through again. He could see that in her expression as she gazed down at the table and then she looked directly at him again.

“I hope you’re right,” she said, the words earnest. “I’d never be able to stand it if I caused the death of someone else. And I wasn’t being entirely truthful with you a minute ago. I discovered something I hadn’t expected, and although I’m sure it means something, I don’t know what.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it anyway,” Mike urged with a smile. “I can put my department to work on it, and that way we ought to come up with an answer.”

“I certainly hope you can,” she agreed, finally letting go of the creamer. “It occurred to me that my brother’s body was found only half a mile away from here. It might have been true that he was there to meet someone, but he also might have been there to go somewhere. To test the theory, I took Robby to the spot and gave him the scent from the shirt Don was wearing when he died.”

“Do you mean to say the dog actually found a trail to follow?” Mike demanded. “But it’s been a good week, not to mention that it’s rained at least once. How could there be anything left?”

“Are you asking if Robby only pretended to find a track?” she countered with a smile, clearly amused by Mike’s disbelief. “If he did, he’s better at pretending than anyone you care to name. He brought me here to the house, to the cellar stairs in back, and I found that the lock on the doors had been cut open. Apparently Don did come to the house that night, but not to see me. He came to leave something.”

She took a key from her jeans pocket and held it up, showing him the something she meant. Mike reached for it and she gave it to him, but looking at it more closely didn’t help.

“I can’t tell what this is a key to, and you don’t know either, do you?” he asked, getting her head shake to confirm his guess. “Well, as I said, I’ll get my people working on it. There are expert locksmiths who can tell you exactly what a particular key is for, and we’ll consult one of them. After that we’ll at least know what to look for.”

“It doesn’t seem to be a car key, a house key or a safe-deposit-box key,” she said, watching as Mike put it carefully in a small evidence bag and then into his inside coat pocket. “That leaves personal safes, strongboxes, secret caches or diaries.”

“Or one of ten thousand other things,” Mike returned with a faint sound of amusement. “I know you’re hoping it’s one of the things you mentioned. For that matter I hope the same, but let’s not set ourselves up for disappointment. This key could just be a duplicate to a lock box that has important business papers. Your brother might have simply wanted it in a safe place no one knew about.”

“So he came in the dead of night, on foot, to leave it?” she countered with a sound of disbelief. “He probably used the metal cutters from the shed out back, but he still also broke in. And you want me to believe he did all that for business papers, and it was only coincidence he was murdered right after that? Really, Lieutenant Gerard, if that’s what you believe, you ought to be back on foot patrol.”

“You’d make a tough boss, Ms. Grail,” Mike said with a smile for her indignation. “As a matter of fact, I don’t believe that the key is unimportant, but that doesn’t stop the matter from still being a possibility. People have been known to do stranger things at stranger times. And please call me Mike.”

“Only if you call me Tanda,” she conceded, not quite ready to appreciate his practical outlook, and then she smiled. “All right, Mike, you believe the key is nothing and I’ll believe it’s an important clue. That way at least one of us will be right, and you’re here for another reason anyway. Do you have more questions, or have you learned something you think I should know?”

“I haven’t learned anything myself, yet,” he answered. “On the way out here I noticed a convenience store a couple of miles up the road and stopped, but the clerk doesn’t remember seeing Saxon in there two days ago. That means either he didn’t stop, or he didn’t do anything to bring himself to the woman’s attention if he did stop. If that was where he saw whatever he saw, he didn’t ask any questions about it.”

“But if he saw it then, he couldn’t have understood what he was seeing,” Tanda pointed out. “I mean, he didn’t tell me about it when he got here, he only mentioned it last night. That should mean it’s more likely he saw whatever-it-was yesterday, while he was looking around.”

“And that, in turn, means we’ll have to trace his movements, but it can’t be done until tomorrow,” Mike agreed. “On Sunday everything closes up. The only thing I can check on right now has to do with you and your brother. Can you handle a few more personal questions?”

“I can handle all the questions in the world, if that will find the person who killed Don,” she answered. “What did you want to ask?”

“Well, to begin with, are you your brother’s heir?” Mike asked, very aware of how the question sounded. People who were in line to inherit big sometimes did things to hurry along that inheritance, but Tanda Grail didn’t seem to realize the implication.

“As a matter of fact, I have no idea,” she answered, looking surprised. “It hadn’t occurred to me to think about it, not when there were so many other things…Did I mention that Don had been married, but had become a widower? For all I know, he had a child, and the child is his heir.”

“His permanent residence was outside a small town in California,” Mike said, pulling out his notebook and a pen. “The police there told us he lived alone with a couple of servants. If there’s a child, there should be some record of it, so we’ll have to get in touch with the locals again. Do you know if he used a lawyer from around here at all? Who handled the purchase when he bought his house?”

“You’re making me feel very useless,” she said with a sigh. “Not only do I know too little about my brother’s death, I know even less about his life. How can I possibly be of any help, when even simple questions are beyond me?”

“You do all right for someone without any answers,” Mike told her quickly, meaning every word. “You didn’t have to know the details of your brother’s life to find that key. It’s a clue that will probably turn out to be a lot more important than knowing who his lawyer is. Don’t forget we have a bet going on the point.”

“I didn’t realize there was a bet involved,” she said with a smile that warmed her soft gray eyes. “You can’t have a bet without stakes, and we never discussed stakes.”

“Don’t you know there are certain standard stakes?” Mike asked, finding that her smile warmed more than her eyes. “In matters of this sort, the loser buys dinner for the winner. You aren’t going to try to back out of the bet, are you?”

“No, I won’t back out,” she assured him with a gentle laugh. “Even if I lose. Do you make a habit of going to dinner with murder suspects? I know no one has said it out loud, but my being involved with two of the victims has to mean I’m a suspect.”

“Eighty-five percent of all serial killings are committed by men,” Mike told her. “In some ways these murders don’t fit the standard pattern, but the department shrink has assured us there’s a definite ritual involved that isn’t being faked. She’s certain all the victims were killed for essentially the same reason, and very possibly by someone they knew. Did you know any of the other three victims?”

“No, thank God,” she answered with a shudder, the smile long gone. “Two in five is too many. Is it my imagination, or do you and your people expect even more murders?”

“We’re hoping there won’t be any more, but once people like this start, they don’t stop again until the imagined job is finished.” He grimaced and shook his head. “They never kill just because they get a kick out of it, or because they have a grudge against someone. There’s always a very special reason, one that’s completely logical to them. And compelling, which is why they don’t often stop by themselves. Others have to stop them, which is where I come in.”

“And let me say how glad I am that you do,” she remarked, but this time her smile didn’t make it all the way out. Mike realized immediately he’d said too much, and Tanda Grail was really shaken.

“Look, as long as you don’t deliberately involve yourself in this, you should be fine,” he said, leaning forward to touch her hand. “Always make sure your doors and windows are locked before you go to bed, don’t leave the house without doing the same, and especially don’t arrange to meet anyone in a deserted place alone for any reason. All the victims but Saxon had apparently gone to meet someone, and even he might have been expecting his visitor. If anything happens to frighten you, just pick up the phone and call me. That’s my home number at the bottom of my card.”

Handing her one of his cards seemed to help, and after she looked at it her smile was better.

“As an amateur detective, I’d say this tells me you aren’t married,” she ventured. “The invitation to dinner was a clue that can’t always be relied on, but handing out your home number to a strange woman usually clinches it. Am I right?”

“Absolutely,” he confirmed with a grin. “Men with wives do tend to keep their home numbers to themselves, even though that doesn’t always apply to cops. Which is why, all too often, cops aren’t men with wives or women with husbands. It takes a special kind of patience to put up with our crazy hours and spotty home life.”

“Not to mention the possibility that the person you’re chasing could catch you instead,” she added, sober again. “That must be terrible for some women, the ones who don’t stop to think about it. I mean, perfectly ordinary people are killed every day, in traffic accidents, or when someone goes suddenly berserk and starts shooting everyone in sight. At least your people are armed and can defend themselves. An accountant, say, in his car and about to be run off the road by a drunk driver, isn’t and can’t.”

“That’s a very good point,” Mike said, surprised and pleased. “You sound as though you’ve had occasion to think about it. Does that mean you used to date a cop?”

“For a while,” she answered with a nod, toying with her coffee cup. “We even started talking about marriage, but then he was accepted on a force in Vermont. He came from there and really wanted to go back, but it would have meant leaving my father here all alone if I went with him. He finally decided to go alone, and I stayed here.”

“I’m sorry,” Mike said, reaching out to touch her hand again. “My former wife thought being married to a cop would be no problem at all, but it didn’t take long before the life got to her. She grew to hate it when I was called out in the middle of the night, or wasn’t home on time for a meal even when I’d promised to be. I was only a sergeant at the time, but a detective sergeant is on call twenty-four hours a day. I moved heaven and earth to be sure I’d be home for our second anniversary, but when I walked through the door with her present she wasn’t there. A week earlier I’d had to miss a barbecue with some friends, and her note said that that time had been the last straw. The next time we saw each other was in divorce court.”

“That must have been horrible for you,” Tanda said, sympathy in those soft gray eyes. “These days not being married seems to mean being lucky enough to miss the divorce experience, but some people do it right. My parents wanted to be together, and when my mother died my father was glad the pain was his rather than hers. He missed her terribly, and wouldn’t have wanted her to miss him like that. Mike…is there any chance you’ll catch this murderer before he does it again?”

“All we need is a little luck,” he assured her, going back to the topic now that she was ready for it. “Saxon was obviously killed to silence him, but I have the strangest feeling that the ritual used means something very specific. Once this is all over, we’ll find he somehow fits in with the other victims.”

“I wish it was already over,” she said, running a hand through her dark blond hair. “You asked about Don’s house. Does that mean you intend to go there, to look for clues? Is that why you need to find his lawyer?”

“A team has already been out there, but yes, I do intend to go again,” Mike said. “We now have a key to match to a lock, and the logical place to look for it first is in your brother’s house.”

He didn’t add that he also wanted Don Grail’s lawyer in order to find out if the man had done more for his client than help buy a house. That could be considered official police business, at least until he knew whether something had been done that might upset Tanda. She was upset enough, and Mike wanted very much to keep from adding to it.

“When you go to Don’s house, I’d like to go with you,” she said then, not quite surprising him with the request. “I’ve never been there, and I’d like to see it at least once before whatever happens to it happens. If that would be against the rules, let me know once you’re finished there, and I’ll go alone.”

“No, I think it will be all right if we go together,” Mike decided at once. The house wasn’t a crime scene, after all, so there was no legal way to keep Tanda away from it. But if she was going to be there, he wanted to be with her. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and tell you what time I’ll be going over. Do you know where the house is?”

“From the address, yes,” she said, then gave Mike her telephone number for his notebook. “You let me know when, and I’ll meet you there.”

Mike agreed to that, joined her in talking about the weather until he’d finished his coffee, and then he left. Once in his car and back on the road, he found himself thinking about the next day. And about the dinner he’d owe Tanda when the key turned out to be an important clue after all. She was the most attractive and interesting woman he’d met in a long time, but he couldn’t help wondering how smart he was being.

“You’d better remember that no matter what you said, she is still a suspect, old son,” he muttered to the single-lane road he traveled. “Until you know for certain she has nothing to do with this mess, you’d better watch your step.”

And until you know for certain that she isn’t trying to recapture an old love, he added silently. That was the part he feared the most, the possibility that any cop would do as someone to replace the man who hadn’t loved her enough to stay with her. Mike considered the man a fool for giving up someone like Tanda Grail just to live in a particular place. The right woman could make hell into a suburb of heaven for a man, but she did have to be the right woman. Maybe…

And maybe not, no matter what the question was, Mike decided with a sigh. Right now all he could do was concentrate on finding a murderer as quickly as possible.

TANDA STOOD and watched Mike Gerard’s car pull away, then went back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. It was really strange how attractive she found the man, especially after the way she’d sworn never to get involved with another cop. Len had been good-looking and a lot of fun, at least until it became time for him to decide to go back to Vermont or stay here in Connecticut with her. It took a short while before it became clear to Tanda that Len wanted to go home because he would have a local badge to flash around, something to show people what a big man he’d become. He hadn’t been homesick, he’d been desperate to prove something.

“But, obviously, not every man with a badge feels the same,” she murmured to her coffee. “Some consider the job really important, but still just a job. Not something to rub other people’s noses in.”

Like Mike Gerard. After thinking about it, Tanda was certain he’d known she was hiding something well before the point she’d told him about the key. But he hadn’t accused her of trying to withhold evidence, not before and not after. He seemed to understand that it would tear her apart if anyone else was hurt because of something she did.

Tanda looked around herself then, feeling more alone than she had after her father had died. Lock all your doors and windows, Mike had said, when you go out and before you go to bed. If the killer thought she knew something that could hurt him, he’d hardly hesitate to come after her. One more body would mean nothing…

After putting her coffee cup down, Tanda headed for the front door. Robby might be used to living in a run, but he was completely housebroken. And very protective of her when strangers were around. She would bring him into the house before checking windows and door locks, and he would also be her company.

But not quite as good company as someone else, she realized with a smile as she stepped outside. Mike Gerard was very good company, and didn’t even slobber the way Robby would. The only thing that worried Tanda about him was one very important question: was he seriously interested in her, or only concerned about someone tangled up in a murder investigation? And did he really think she was innocent? A man who’d had a bad marriage didn’t usually trust women or think well of them; was he just leading her on to get what information he could, with nothing in mind beyond solving the case?

Each question she asked herself bred ten others, and the rest of the day disappeared behind a blur of uncontrolled thinking. When suppertime came around, Tanda broiled herself a steak, then shared it with Robby. The dog had no idea why he was in the house with her, but didn’t mind enjoying the experience. The day had started very early, so it wasn’t late when she let Robby out for the final time, checked the locks one last time, then went to bed.

The soft hum of the bedroom’s air conditioner helped her to fall asleep quickly, but suddenly she found herself awake again. Had there been a noise, or was it just Robby moving around the room? Half-asleep, Tanda looked at the clock to see that it wasn’t even midnight. She couldn’t have been asleep long, then.

And that was when she heard it again, a low bang from somewhere outside. A wild animal, maybe, trying to get to her garbage? She twisted around and turned on the light, then sat very still as she saw Robby. The dog was on his feet by the bedroom door, standing and staring at it, a low growl sounding deep in his throat. He never did that for an animal, Tanda realized, putting a trembling hand to her mouth. Robby only growled when strange humans were around. Humans…




Chapter Four


For a moment or two Tanda sat motionless with fear, and then the low banging noise came again. This time it sounded like someone trying to break something at the back of the house while struggling not to make too much noise. Animals were notorious for not caring how much noise they made, and that, along with the barking of the other dogs, clinched it. Some human was out there, and at that time of night it couldn’t possibly be a friend or neighbor.

But it could be a police patrol, sent by Mike Gerard to keep an eye on her. Poking around to be sure she was all right shouldn’t sound like that, but it was still possible. Maybe she ought to go and take a look…

“But I think I’ll call and ask first,” she muttered, reaching for the bedside telephone. “They’ll know at headquarters whether anyone is supposed to be out here.”

She would have preferred calling Mike Gerard rather than some stranger at police headquarters, but there was no need to bother the man over a false alarm. And that was what Tanda hoped it was, nothing but a false alarm…

“Police headquarters, Sergeant Walters,” an official voice announced from the other end of the line. “How can I help you?”

“Sergeant, this is Tanda Grail, out on Old Stage Road,” Tanda replied. “I’m involved with Lieutenant Gerard over that murder this morning, as well as my brother’s murder a week ago. Can you tell me if Lieutenant Gerard left orders for officers to check my house during the night? I hear someone out there, but I’ll feel silly if I charge out to confront a couple of police officers just doing their job.”

“I’ll check on that, Ms. Grail,” the man’s voice said, no longer remote and indifferent. “But please don’t talk about charging out and confronting. If someone is out there…Well, we’d rather you didn’t. And are you certain there’s someone there? Could it be an animal, or an unlatched door swinging?”

“No to both,” Tanda answered. “I might not be sure, but my dog is. It’s definitely not an animal, and definitely not a door.”

“Then hold on for a moment.” Tanda expected to be switched to hold, but the sergeant just put a hand over the mouthpiece of his phone. She could hear the mutter of voices in brief conversation, and then the sergeant was back. “Ms. Grail, there were orders left for you to be checked on, but the unit assigned to do the checking isn’t currently near your house. We have them on their way now, and they’ll be there in a few minutes. Please stay inside until they knock on your door and announce themselves. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do understand, and thank you,” Tanda said automatically before hanging up. Once the connection was broken, she realized she could have stayed on the line until the patrol unit arrived, but what was the point? If whoever was out there broke in, having a cop on the other end of the line wasn’t likely to keep her from being killed.

Tanda ran both hands through her hair, trying to fight off the creeping numbness of fear. If it wasn’t the police out there, it had to be the murderer. The idea of it being someone else, just at this time, even an ordinary burglar, was too far-fetched to consider. Another muffled clank came, telling the nearby world that the person was still out there, and the sound did something strange to Tanda. It made her realize that her brother’s murderer was in reach, the person she wanted so badly to find. Was she just going to sit here and tremble, forgetting about what had been stolen from her? Wasn’t there something she could do to make sure the man didn’t get away?

Tanda knew there had to be something, and reborn anger drove away enough of the fear to let her get out of bed. Robby was still growling softly as she began to throw on clothes, and that bolstered her courage even more. Between her and her dog the murderer would be outnumbered, and once the police got here, the nightmare would be over. An outcome like that was worth taking a chance for, more than worth it.

It didn’t take long before she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and sneakers, and Robby was beginning to be calmly excited. The dog knew they were going out after whoever was making that noise, and he was ready to do his job. If the intruder tried to run away, so much the better. Robby would be right behind him, and more than able to run him to ground.

Tanda turned out the light in the room before easing the door open, wishing she had Robby’s serene confidence. She was determined to do whatever she could to catch the murderer, but that didn’t mean her fear was gone. Slipping out into the dark of the hall was hard, but turning on a light was out of the question. If the person outside realized she was awake and coming after him…

Yes. Tanda dropped that line of thought quickly, paying more attention to making her way toward the front door. She’d briefly considered going down to the cellar and confronting the intruder directly, but had dismissed the idea as impractical. The new lock on the cellar door in back was on the outside; even if it hadn’t been, she didn’t care for the idea of opening the bolt on the door in the house leading down to the cellar. Just because the sounds seemed to be coming from outside, that didn’t mean the man hadn’t managed to get inside. Meeting a murderer face-to-face indoors seemed fractionally worse than meeting one outdoors, and whether or not that was true, it was still the way she felt.

So she edged through the kitchen and on toward the living room, grateful for the kitchen’s night-light and wishing the living room had one, too. After tonight she’d make sure it had one—assuming nothing happened to keep her from seeing to it.

“Stop that!” she whispered to herself almost soundlessly. “Of course nothing will happen. You’ll just have to be very careful…”

And stick close to Robby. Tanda was aware of the dog despite her nervousness, or maybe even more because of it. He’d stopped in the living room to her left, momentarily unmoving, which made her stop as well. It was almost as though he was listening to something, and she’d never seen him do that before. A tracking dog isn’t in the habit of listening…

And then he did what he was in the habit of doing, something that nearly made her jump out of her skin. With the sort of baying bark he used when he was almost on the quarry, Robby loped directly toward the front windows. Tanda was so startled she banged into the coffee table, bruising her legs and nearly falling. She had no idea what had made Robby do that—until she realized the banging at the back of the house seemed to have stopped.

“He’s coming around to the front!” she whispered, suddenly frantic. “If I don’t get out there before he reaches the door—”

Then there would be nothing to keep the man from coming in when she opened the door. And she had to open the door, or the opportunity to catch her brother’s killer would be gone. Understanding that helped Tanda to ignore the pain in her legs as she stumbled around the coffee table, and by the time she reached the front door Robby was beside her. Taking courage from his presence she flipped on the porch light, flung the door open and charged outside—

Only to see nothing and no one. Her heart pounded like that drum people always talked about, and it took a moment to realize that part of the noise she heard wasn’t from that. Someone was in the woods and running, definitely away from the house, and Robby stood quivering and staring in that direction. Tanda dashed back inside, got the flashlight from the table near the door, ran back out and told Robby, “Find ’em!”

The dog took off like a launched rocket, the command freeing him to do what he’d been waiting and longing to. Tanda yelped and ran after him, all the excitement having made her forget that the dog wasn’t on a lead. If she didn’t really move she would lose him, especially in the dark. When he reached the quarry—and he would—she fully intended to be right there.

Happily the flashlight was a powerful one, and Tanda was able to glimpse Robby as well as hear him. The woods were more than nighttime-quiet; with two people and a dog running through them, night birds and small animals were keeping silent and playing invisible. Tanda knew these woods well enough to run with confidence, which gave her real hope that in just a few minutes she would at least catch sight of the man responsible for her brother’s death. And if Robby could corner him and hold him until the police arrived—

The sound of a car door slamming ended that line of thought in the worst possible way. An instant later the car’s engine roared it away, showing that the vehicle had probably not been turned off. Taillights flared redly a short distance ahead, and then they, too, were gone, back to Old Stage Road. Tanda immediately whistled for Robby, and after a moment the dog trotted up.

“Poor guy,” Tanda commiserated as she leaned down to gently rough him up. “I’ll bet you were no more than half a jump behind when he got to that car. It’s too bad it didn’t stall out and leave him stuck, the way it probably would have done if I was the one being chased. We might as well go back to the house.”

Robby wasn’t happy about abandoning the chase, but he still followed right after Tanda. The dog seemed to understand somehow that it wasn’t an exercise or a game they were involved in, or even a job for some nearby police department. It was his own house that intruder had been prowling around, and that apparently made the matter personal.

The walk back didn’t take long, but Tanda wasn’t given the chance to go inside. Headlights flared along the tar road, silently announcing the approach of a car, and for an instant she thought it might be the intruder coming back again. Then she saw the wide set of lights on the car’s roof, and realized the police had finally made it. The way they headed right for her said they thought she might be the intruder they were there for. When they stopped about ten feet back and got out, their hands were cautiously close to their weapons.

“It’s all right, Officers, I’m Tanda Grail,” she called to them, patting Robby to calm away his growl. “There was someone out here, but he got away. If he hadn’t left a car in the woods with the engine running, my dog would have had him.”

“You saw the prowler, ma’am?” one of the officers asked, a young man with light brown hair and a calm expression. “Can you give us a description of him and his car?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Tanda admitted. “He was doing something at the back of the house, but started around to the front just before I came out. My dog heard him and began to bay, and that must have frightened him. He was already into the woods by the time we got out here, and the head start let him reach his car before my dog reached him. By the time I got there, there was nothing to see but vanishing taillights.”

“You were probably lucky he didn’t stick around,” the second officer said, the first being busy writing. He was older than the first man, and not quite as calm or neutral. “I’ll call this in, and then we’ll have a look around.”

There wasn’t much Tanda could say to that, since disagreeing about being lucky would only start an argument. She waited until the incident had been called in and written up, then led the way around to the back of the house. The two officers had their own flashlights, but Tanda was first to see what the intruder had been up to.

“Look at the scrapes on that lock!” she exclaimed, shocked in spite of herself. “It was brand new when I put it on only a few hours ago, but look at it now!”

“Likely it was a tire iron he used,” the second officer said after bending down to examine the lock. “Or maybe he found something in that shed.”

He’d turned to flash his light at the shed, but Tanda shook her head.

“There’s nothing left in the shed he could have used,” she said. “I put the bolt cutters and anything else that might be used to force a lock into the cellar. There didn’t seem to be much sense in putting on a new lock if I left something to force it open with.”

“It’s a good thing you thought of that, ma’am,” the younger man said with respectful approval. “A lot of people wouldn’t have, and their house would have been broken into again.”

“Considering what you’re involved in, Ms. Grail, I think we should get a forensics team out here,” the older man said. “At the very least they should be able to get tire-track impressions, if you can show them where the car was parked.”

“If I can’t find the spot again, my dog can,” Tanda assured the man.

That time both men nodded, then they began to lead the way back to their car. With the most immediate excitement over, Tanda was beginning to feel just how tired she was. It would have been nice to go back to bed—with the light left on for the rest of the night—but it was fairly clear that that would not be happening for a while.

MIKE GERARD TRIED not to break any traffic laws on his way out to the Grail place, but it was a near thing. He kept wanting to do ninety to get there faster, just to be certain Tanda really was all right. He felt disappointed that she’d called headquarters rather than him, but at least she hadn’t tried to handle the matter all alone. He must have made his point about the foolishness of trying to face a serial killer alone.

The turnoff to the Grail place wasn’t difficult to find even in the middle-of-the-night darkness. Two police units and a forensics van were parked on the tar road leading to the house, and all three vehicles had their lights on. Mike pulled up to the left of the van, and when he got out he saw Tanda sitting on the porch steps with one of her dogs. Flashlight beams coming from the woods to the right and darting out from behind the house told him where everyone else was.

“I was asked to keep out of the way,” Tanda called softly when she saw him, obviously following his thoughts. “They were all very polite about not wanting to bother me anymore, but what they meant was, stay out of the way. I’m sorry you had to be dragged out of bed after all. I should have realized they would call you once they saw there really was a prowler.”

“My beauty sleep can wait,” Mike told her with a smile as he stopped a couple of feet from where she sat. “My people know I’ll enjoy that sleep a lot more once this serial killer is caught. They also passed on what you told the officers. Are you sure you saw nothing of the man or his car?”

“By the time I got out here, he was already in the woods,” she said, then put a hand on her dog’s head. “Robby here heard him coming around to the front of the house, and let loose with one of his ‘here comes the quarry I’m going to have for lunch’ barks. It makes him sound really dangerous, and the prowler must have panicked. He got to his car fast, and all I saw of it was headlights in front and taillights toward me. The only thing I can tell you about the car for certain is that it didn’t have its windows open.”

“You were able to see that?” Mike asked, wondering how it could be possible. “That and nothing else?”

“No, no, I couldn’t see it,” she corrected with a slightly wider smile. “I keep forgetting you don’t know much about trained dogs. I know the windows weren’t open because Robby gave up the trail once the car pulled away. If the windows had been open, he would have bayed to show he was still on the trail. Do you understand?”

“Do you mean to say a bloodhound can follow someone in a car as long as the windows are down?” Mike demanded, then realized how the words must sound. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to all but call you a liar, but…”

“But the idea is a hard one to believe,” she finished when he didn’t, amused rather than insulted. “The movies have a lot to do with it, because they’ll have a fugitive escape in a car when the script calls for it. The windows on the car are usually wide open, but the script insists the fugitive escapes, so the dogs have to lose the trail. If those dogs were mine, they wouldn’t.”

Mike just stood there shaking his head, at the same time wondering why bloodhounds weren’t used more.

“I’d better check to see what the forensics people have found so far,” he said at last, then gave Tanda a grin. “After that, I won’t feel so stupid, and you can tell me some more about bloodhounds.”

“Not knowing about bloodhounds doesn’t make you stupid, only uninformed,” she assured him with a soft smile, then the smile faded. “If they’ve found anything important, will you be able to tell me about it?”

“I’m sure I will,” he soothed her, wishing he could take her hand or put an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

He waited for her nod and then walked away, heading around the back of the house. The other dogs in their runs to the left were awake and alert, but weren’t making any noise.

“Glad you made it, Gerard,” one of the forensics people, Alec Ellison, said as soon as Mike appeared. “There isn’t too much here, but I can tell you one thing: whoever tried the break-in was no professional. My six-year-old son would have had better luck—without it being a matter of luck.”

“Your six-year-old son could probably get into a bank vault,” Mike pointed out, causing Ellison to grin. “Like father, like son. What specifically makes you think it wasn’t a pro?”

“All those scratches and small dents on the lock, for one thing,” Ellison answered. “The perp used either a tire iron or a crowbar, or maybe just a length of pipe, but was also obviously trying to use strength instead of leverage. Slip some cold steel through the lock loop, brace the steel and lean. If the lock doesn’t fly open from your body weight alone, the hasp will probably come free of the wood. Whoever was here seemed to be trying to pull the lock open, and when that didn’t work he tried banging on it. Even dead drunk a pro would do better than that, and would certainly have been quieter.”

“Make that ‘she’ rather than ‘he,’” a voice corrected, and Mike turned to see forensics expert Lora Clark approaching. “We found more than just tire tracks out in those woods, we also found a couple of good footprints that are definitely from women’s shoes. People should learn not to go sneaking across open ground after a rain.”

“Are you sure, Lora?” Mike couldn’t help asking. “All the profiles insist it’s a man, and if it isn’t we’re back to square one. Could you have found Ms. Grail’s prints instead?”

“Not unless Ms. Grail is able to leave two different sets of footprints telling two different stories,” Lora denied cheerfully. “You know how I hate to ruin perfectly good theories, but unless this was done by someone just happening by, your quarry isn’t a man. Ms. Grail’s prints were easy to match up, and the other woman’s were totally different. I’d say about five foot five or six, about a hundred twenty-five pounds, not very athletic. Even when she was running it wasn’t full out, as if she didn’t know how to run properly.”

“That agrees with what I found here,” Ellison put in as Mike groaningly took out his notebook. “A woman who isn’t very athletic, and never even thought about breaking in somewhere. A desperate amateur trying a desperate gamble.”

“That doesn’t fit the profile at all,” Mike said as he noted down what both of the forensics people had told him. “And there’s been no indication that the murders were committed by more than one person. What about the tire tracks?”

“They seem to be standard tires that can be found on most midsize cars,” Lora supplied with a sigh. “Steel-belted radials that almost everyone sells, but we’ll be able to give you the manufacturer as soon as we do a tread-pattern comparison. The tires weren’t new, but there should be enough of a pattern left for identification. And we’ll sift through everything again to be certain we didn’t miss something useful.”

“A picture ID supplying a name and address would do nicely,” Mike said as the two began to turn away. “If you find one, I’ll be around front with Ms. Grail.”

“If we find one, I’ll be passed out cold in a faint,” Lora countered over her shoulder as she headed back toward the woods.

As Mike turned back toward the front of the house, he decided he’d be better off without something like an accidentally dropped picture ID. He’d find it almost impossible to believe that the thing had been dropped accidentally, and would resist considering it a real clue unless or until he caught the pictured person in the act of committing murder.

Tanda no longer sat on the front steps where she’d been, but the inside door was open and through the screen door Mike could hear her moving around. A moment later she reappeared carrying a tray, and after holding the door for her dog to come through, she set the tray down with a smile.

“I thought everyone might want a cup of coffee as badly as I do,” she said, gesturing to the pot and cups on the tray. “I feel silly playing hostess at a time like this, but—Have you found out anything?”

“Nothing useful,” Mike admitted as he walked to the tray. “And I don’t know about the others, but I find a cup of coffee at a time like this something to be grateful for. My people tell me the intruder’s footprints say it was a woman, and the attempt to break in was unskilled. Either we were wrong about our murderer being a man, or he has a non-burglar female confederate we hadn’t even suspected. It’s highly unlikely that someone totally unconnected with the murders just happened to decide to break in.”

“Could it possibly have been a man wearing women’s shoes?” she asked, watching Mike fix a cup of coffee. “You know, just to throw everyone off? Most people do know they’ll leave footprints in still-wet ground, so maybe it was the murderer trying to confuse everyone.”

“That’s a definite possibility, but it still doesn’t feel right,” Mike answered, aware that he sounded fretful. “Serial killings have a very specific relationship between the killer and his victim, the killing coming about because of who each of them is. A serial killer’s identity is very important to him, I’m told, so for him to deliberately pretend to be someone else entirely—I don’t know if he’s capable of doing that in the context of the murders.”

“I don’t think I understand that,” Tanda said, taking her own cup and sitting on the steps with it. “Don’t serial killers always try to hide who they are?”

“Only during the times between murders,” Mike answered, sitting down not far from her. “During those times they’re not really themselves, since their real selves are dedicated to completing whatever ritual they’ve come to believe they must complete. When they’re in the middle of that ritual, however, they can’t be anything but their true selves or the ritual won’t have meaning. Even if they’re forced to tell people who they are—in the notes they leave, or the symbols they sometimes paint in blood on the walls—they can’t refuse to do it. That part of it is lucky for us, because it’s usually the way we catch them.”

“Then that would mean if it was the murderer, he wasn’t here in connection with the killings,” Tanda said slowly after sipping her coffee. “But if that’s true, then what was he here for?”

“That’s as easy to answer as what a woman was doing here if it wasn’t the murderer,” Mike grumbled in response. “There are too many unexplained things happening, too many events that seem completely unrelated. I know we’re missing something important, but I don’t yet know what it is.”

He lapsed into a brooding silence with that, and Tanda joined him. From what she’d said, she’d been convinced the intruder was her brother’s murderer, and now she seemed a lot less sure. He hadn’t yet spoken to her about the way she’d gone out after the prowler instead of waiting for the police to arrive, but now didn’t feel like the time to go into it. He wanted her to be safe, but once they left she would be all alone in that house. Telling her horror stories to keep her awake the rest of the night would benefit no one. Leaving one of the police units there for the night and discussing it tomorrow was a much better idea.

They sat quietly drinking their coffee for a while, and then the forensics people began to come over to join them. Most of them accepted the offer of coffee, but had nothing to add to what they’d already told him. The casts made in the woods of tire tracks and footprints were put carefully in the van, and while that was being done Mike arranged for one of the units to stay. Once everyone else had left, he walked back to the porch where Tanda still sat.

“Well, that’s it,” he said, feeling the words were totally inadequate. “That car will be out here for the rest of the night, so there shouldn’t be any more trouble. Is there anything you’d like me to do before I leave?”

“I really don’t think so,” she answered with a tired smile. “If we’re going to be doing things tomorrow, we need at least some sleep tonight. Or should I say, ‘this morning’?’ Most of the night is long gone.”

“I think we’d all prefer it if criminals confined their activities to the daytime,” he returned with his own smile. “It’s so much easier chasing them after a good night’s rest. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll set up a time to meet at your brother’s house.”





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