“You told the public they weren't safe until the College Hill Rapist was put behind bars.”

“They weren't!”

“You held numerous press conferences, applying enormous pressure on the Providence police to make an arrest.”

“Four women had been attacked. The police were already under enormous pressure!”

“You said you were happy with Eddie's arrest.”

“I was happy with Eddie's arrest!”

“Yeah? Well, how do you feel about his death? Need more champagne, Ms. Hayes? It's not every day someone publicly toasts the murder of an innocent man.”

Jillian drew up short. Too late she saw the trap. Too late she looked into Jimmy's camera, with her round, dazed eyes, her loose hair wild around her face, her cheeks flushed with outrage.

“Death is not justice,” she replied quietly, but her words no longer mattered. Maureen had her clip, and they all knew it. The reporter smiled, genuinely this time, and motioned for Jimmy to turn off the tape.

“Thank you,” she said crisply, lowering the mike.

“Do you really think you're helping things?” Jillian asked.

The reporter shrugged. “Can't fuck it up any more than you did now, can I?”

“This is my fault?”

Maureen looked at her. “Are you fucking nuts? Have you ever gone back and watched your old press conferences, Ms. Hayes? Have you ever seen yourself on camera? You spin. Hell, you spin better than most politicians. Always cool, always composed, telling the public what happened to you, what happened to Meg, what happened to Carol. Reminding the public that it might be their daughters next.

“You didn't just insert yourself into a story. You became the story. Even I sympathized with you and those other two women. Hell, a bunch of the reporters bought a round of drinks in your honor the day they arrested Como. But that was before Sylvia Blaire. Of course you bear a responsibility for what happened yesterday. Maybe if you hadn't kept the fire so hot, the police investigation could've been more thorough. Maybe if the police hadn't had to spend so much time reacting to your presence on the news, they could've spent more time on the case. The police are vulnerable to public pressure, you know. Just ask your good friend Sergeant Griffin.”

“I love you, too, Maureen,” Griffin said.

She flashed a smile at him. “That's what makes my job so meaningful.”

“There is no conclusive evidence that Eddie Como's innocent,” Jillian insisted.

“Tell that to Sylvia Blaire.”

“It could be a copycat.”

“Would you like to go on record?”

Jillian didn't say anything. Maureen nodded. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

She and Jimmy were back in the news van. They had come, they had seen, they had conquered. Maureen waved quite merrily, right before slamming the door shut.

“You shouldn't listen to her,” Griffin said shortly, as the news van sped away.

Jillian merely smiled. “Oh, but I will. And Meg will and Carol will. In the middle of the night, we'll think of nothing but what she said. We're women. It's what we do.” She turned and headed for her car.

“Jillian…” He caught her arm. The contact startled them both. They stared at his hand on her forearm until his fingers slipped away. “Fitz ran a good case. I run a good case. We're going to get to the bottom of this.”

Jillian looked out at the sky. “Four hours before nightfall, Griffin. I wonder what young woman will be home alone tonight. I wonder what college student will be hitting the books or daydreaming about her boyfriend or maybe even resting in front of the TV. I wonder what girl is making what small mistake right now that will very soon cost her her life.”

“You can't think that way.”

“Oh, but I do. Once you've been assaulted, it's very hard to think of anything else. The world is a very dangerous place, Sergeant. And I haven't seen anything to give me any hope yet.”

Chapter 25

“GOOD NEWS,” DETECTIVE WATERS SAID ON THE OTHER end of the cell phone. “Eddie Como's dead.”

“Now there's something I haven't heard lately.” Griffin passed under the Towers on Ocean Road and headed toward Providence while holding the cell phone pressed against his right ear. Traffic wasn't too bad this early in May. Give it another month, and this area of Narragansett would be turned into a tourist-crazed parking lot. Ah, the joys of summer.

“ME confirmed the fingerprints this afternoon,” Waters was saying. “Our vic is definitely Eddie Como. In the even-better-news department, Providence just got a hit on the deep-fried DOA, as well.”

“No kidding.”

“Guy had a military record. Gus J. Ohlsson, formerly of New York. Get this-he served eight years in the Army, as a sharpshooter.”

“Ah, so our detective intuitions are right again. Let's face it, the nose knows.”

“Yeah, well, you can pat yourself on the back all you want. Providence is still taking the credit. As we speak, they're putting together a subpoena for Ohlsson's military records, plus bank accounts. He has a father listed as next of kin, also out of New York, so you can bet Boz and Higgins are doing the happy dance.”

“Road trip,” Griffin said. Boz and Higgins had worked in Providence's Detective Bureau for fifteen years. As Providence was a main way station on the I-95 corridor between New York and Boston, lots of the city's crime ended up tied to New York or Boston case files. Somehow, Boz and Higgins always got the New York trips. Always. The rumor was, they had a thing for Broadway shows.

“Given Ohlsson's military background,” Waters was saying, “our hired-gun theory is looking good. Of course, Providence also wants to check out Family ties.”

“With a name like Ohlsson?”

“Hey, haven't you heard? It's a global village out there. Everyone has gone multinational, including the Mafia.”

“Wow, you take a year's sabbatical and the whole geopolitical landscape of crime shifts on you. Who would've thought?” Griffin came to the exit for Route 1 North and headed up the ramp. “Anything from the state fire marshal's office yet?”

“After only two days? You are out of touch.”

“I prefer the term optimistic. Hey, Mike, can you touch base with the financial guys for me? Tell them Jillian Hayes donated the twenty thousand missing from her accounts to a Cranston parish. The priest has confirmed the donation, but we need to keep the details under wraps.”

“Since you didn't give me any details, that shouldn't be too hard. Aren't you heading back to HQ?”

“No, I'm on my way to see Dan Rosen.”

“You're on your way to see Dan Rosen?” Waters's voice grew tight, and the silence that followed was immediately tense. Griffin understood. In theory, primary case officers didn't do much legwork. In theory, his job was to remain in headquarters, coordinating and overseeing detectives like Waters, who would handle interviews like Dan Rosen's. And in fact, if Griffin didn't appear at the command center shortly, his lieutenant was probably going to have a few words with him. He wouldn't like those words much.

“What are you doing, Griffin?” Waters asked.

“I have a theory. I need to play it out.”

“Tell me your theory. I can play it out.”

“You could, but I figured you'd prefer to spend your afternoon in a bar.”

“What?”

“I need you to go to Cranston,” Griffin explained patiently. “I need you to identify all the bars/pubs/watering holes in the near vicinity of Eddie Como's house. Then I want you to show the bartenders a picture of Eddie Como and find out if he spent a lot of time there, and more importantly, with whom.”

More silence. Long silence. “Griffin…”

“I know.”

“Fitz finds out about this, he's gonna be pissed.”

“Fitz was born pissed. Nothing we can do about that now. Besides, that's why I need you to do it. I'm counting on your charm.”