The L.L. Bean man stepped toward her. "I don't think that's a wise position to take, Mrs. Hunter."

"Please refer all questions to my attorney, Ike Kier."

The man smiled. "Maybe we should try again."

Olivia did not like the way he said that.

"My name is Special Agent in Charge Adam Yates from the Las Vegas office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This"- he gestured to the big man-"is Special Agent Cal Dollinger. We would very much like to speak with Olivia Hunter or, if she prefers, we can arrest one Candace Potter."

Olivia's knees buckled at the sound of her old name. A smile cracked the big man's rock face. He was enjoying the moment.

"Up to you, Mrs. Hunter."

There was no choice now. She was trapped. She'd have to let them in, would have to talk.

"Let me see your identification please."

The big man walked over toward the window. Olivia had to fight off the desire to step back. He reached into his pocket, took out his ID, slammed it hard enough against the glass to make her jump. The other man, the one named Yates, did likewise. The IDs looked legitimate, though she knew how easy it was to buy fakes.

"Slide your business card under the door. I'd like to call your office and verify who you are."

The big man, Dollinger, shrugged, the stilted smile still locked in place. He spoke for the first time: "Sure thing, Candi."

She swallowed. The big man reached into his wallet, plucked out a card, slid it under the door. There was no reason to go ahead and call the number. The card had a raised seal and looked too legitimate- plus there had been no hesitation on the part of Cal Dollinger, who, according to the card, was indeed a special agent out of the Las Vegas office.

She opened the door. Adam Yates entered first. Cal Dollinger ducked in as if he were entering a teepee. He stayed by the door, hands folded in front of him.

"Nice weather we're having," Yates said.

And then Dollinger closed the door.

Chapter 49

LOREN MUSE FUMED.

She'd been about to call Ed Steinberg and complain about Yates's treatment of her, but in the end she decided against it. Little lady can't take care of herself. Needs to call her boss for help. No, she wouldn't play into that.

She was still part of the investigation. Fine, that was all she wanted. A foot in the door. She started digging up all she could on the roommate, Kimmy Dale. It wasn't too difficult. Kimmy had a record for prostitution. Despite what people thought, prostitution was not legal in Clark County, where Las Vegas is.

One of Dale's old probation officers, an old-timer named Taylor, was in early. He remembered her.

"What can I tell you?" Taylor began. "Kimmy Dale had a bad family history, but what girl out here doesn't? You ever listen to Howard Stern on the radio?"

"Sure."

"Ever listen when he has strippers on? He always kinda jokingly asks, 'And you were first abused at what age?' and the thing is, they always have an answer. They always were. They sit there and say it's great getting naked and they made their own choice, blah blah, but there's always something in the background. You know what I mean?"

"I do."

"So Kimmy Dale was another classic case. She ran away from home and started stripping when she was probably fourteen, fifteen tops."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"She moved out to Reno. I got a home address if you want."

"I do."

He gave her Kimmy Dale's home address. "Last I heard she works out of a place called the Eager Beaver, which, believe it or not, is not as classy as the name would lead you to believe."

Eager Beaver, she thought. Wasn't that where Yates said Charles Talley worked?

Taylor said, "Nice town, Reno. Not like Vegas. Don't get me wrong. I love Vegas. We all do. It's awful and horrible and mobbed up, but we don't leave. You know what I'm saying?"

"I'm calling you from Newark, New Jersey," she said. "So yeah, I know what you mean."

Taylor laughed. "Anyway, Reno is actually a pretty nice place to raise a family nowadays. Good weather because it's below the Sierra Nevada mountains. Used to be divorce capital of the USA and have more millionaires per capita than anywhere in the country. You ever been?"

"Nope."

"Are you cute?"

"Adorable."

"So come out to Vegas. I'll show you around."

"Next plane, I'm there."

"Wait, you're not one of those 'I-hate-men' feminazis, are you?"

"Only when I don't get enough sleep."

"So what's this about?"

Her cell phone began to ring. "I'll fill you in later, okay? Thanks, Taylor."

"We'll stay at the Mandalay Bay. I know a guy. You'll love it."

"Right, soon, bye."

She hung up and hit the answer button.

"Hello?"

Without preamble, Mother Katherine said, "She was murdered, wasn't she?"

Loren was about to hem and haw again, but something in Mother Katherine's tone told her it would be a waste of time. "Yes."

"Then I need to see you."

"Why's that?"

"I wasn't allowed to say anything before. Sister Mary Rose was very specific."

"Specific about what?"

"Please come by my office as soon as you can, Loren. I need to show you something."

"What can I do for you, Agent Yates?" Olivia asked.

By the door, Cal Dollinger's eyes swept the room. Adam Yates sat and rested his elbows on his thighs. "You own a lot of books," Yates said.

"Very observant."

"Are they yours or your husband's?"

Olivia put her hands on her hips. "Yes, I can see how that would be relevant, so let me clear your mind. Most of the books belong to me. Are we done?"

Yates smiled. "You're very amusing," he said. "Isn't she amusing, Cal?"

Cal nodded. "Most strippers and whores, they're bitter. But not her. She's a slice of sunshine."

"Sunshine indeed," Yates added.

Olivia did not like the way this was going. "What do you want?"

"You faked your own death," Yates said. "That's a crime."

She said nothing.

"That girl who really died," he went on. "What was her name?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Her name was Cassandra, wasn't it?" Yates leaned in a little. "Were you the one who murdered her?"

Olivia held her ground. "What do you want?"

"You know."

Yates's hands tightened into fists, then relaxed. She glanced at the door. Cal remained calm, a statue.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't."

Yates tried a smile. "Where's the tape?"

Olivia stiffened. She flashed back to that trailer. There had been a horrible smell when she and Kimmy first moved into it, as if small animals had died in the walls. Kimmy had bought some heavy potpourri- much too perfumed. It tried to mask something that could never really be hidden. The smell came back to her now. She saw Cassandra's crumpled body. She remembered the fear on Clyde Rangor's face as he asked:

"Where's the tape?"

She tried to keep her voice from cracking. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why did you run away and change your name?"

"I needed a fresh start."

"Just like that?"

"No," Olivia said. "Nothing about it was 'just like that.' " She stood. "And I don't want to answer any more questions until my attorney is present."

Yates looked up at her. "Sit down."

"I want you both out of here."

"I said sit down."

She looked over at Cal Dollinger again. Still playing statue. He had eyes with nothing behind them. Olivia did as Yates said. She sat.

"I was going to say something like, 'You got a nice life here, you wouldn't want me to spoil it all for you,' " Yates began. "But I'm not sure that will work. Your neighborhood is a cesspool. Your house is a dump. Your husband is an ex-con wanted in a triple murder." He gave her the smile. "One would have thought you'd have made the most of your new start, Candi. But amazingly you did just the opposite."