“I don’t care. Just do it. And don’t fuck it up. Then find out why Alex Fallon was at the courthouse today. All we need is her digging up trial transcripts.”

“She won’t find anything in the trial transcripts.”

“Yeah, and she was supposed to believe her stepsister was some strung-out junkie who skipped town, but she didn’t buy that, did she? I don’t trust what she’ll find.”

Because he also wasn’t sure what Alex Fallon would find, he turned his attention to the bigger failure. “So how will you handle Bailey Crighton?”

The man’s cobra smile raised the hair on his neck. “Bailey’s gone back on the juice.”

That actually surprised him. Bailey had been sober for five years. “Voluntarily?”

His sinister smile widened. “Now what fun would there have been in that? By tomorrow she’ll be begging for her next fix, just like old times. She’ll tell me what I want to know. But Bailey and her stepsister aren’t why I called you. I want to know what the fuck’s going on with these dead women?”

He blinked. “I thought…”

“You thought it was me? Shit. You’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

His cheeks flushed hot. “Well, it’s not me or any of the others.”

“And you’re sure of this because…?”

“Bluto doesn’t have the balls to kill anybody and Igor’s just a whiny little bastard. He’s frothing at the mouth, calling Bluto, meeting him in the park at all hours in plain view of half the town. That boy’s gonna blow the whole damn thing out of the water.”

“You should have told me before now.” It was said softly, maliciously.

His stomach wrenched when he realized exactly what he’d done. “Wait a minute.”

His dark eyes became amused. “You’re in too deep, Sweetpea. You can’t back out.”

It was true. He was in way too deep. He licked his lips. “Don’t call me that.”

“The nicknames were your idea. It’s not my fault you don’t like yours.” The mocking smile disappeared. “You fool. You’re worried about a nickname when you don’t know who’s doing these women? You think Igor can blow us out of the water? You think Alex Fallon’s questions are a threat? Those are nothing compared to what these killings can do to us. The press has picked up on the connection. The Tremaine girl’s picture was all over the news last night. What do you know?”

His mouth went dry. “I thought it was some copycat at first. Maybe some wacko who read about it after all the news about what happened to Simon up north.”

“I don’t care what you thought. I asked what you know.”

“Claudia Silva was the second victim. She was found with a key tied around her toe.”

He stiffened. A match flared and cigarette smoke billowed from the Jag. “Has Daniel found Simon’s key yet?”

Simon’s key. The carrot with which Simon Vartanian taunted them all, even from his grave. His real grave this time. At least Daniel had gotten that right. “If he has, he hasn’t said anything.”

“He’s not going to tell you. Has he been back to his house?”

“Not since before the funeral.”

“And you’ve searched the house?”

“I’ve been through the old Vartanian place ten times.”

“Make it eleven.”

“He can get into the box without the key, you know.”

“Yeah, but he may not know about the box. The minute he finds a key, he’ll start looking for the box. If he hasn’t already. This asshole who’s killing the women knows about the key. He wants the cops to know about the key. So make sure Daniel doesn’t find Simon’s key.”

“He hasn’t been to the bank. I know that. But he is seeing the Fallon woman. Half the town saw him shoving his tongue down her throat on her front porch last night.”

Again the cobra smile. “You can work with that. After you take care of Igor.”

His blood went cold. “I’m not killing Rhett Porter.” He used Igor’s real name, hoping it would shock some reason back into the conversation. But he’d wasted his breath because the cobra smile just widened.

“Sure you will, Sweetpea.” The window rolled up and the Jag drove away.

And he sat there staring straight ahead, knowing he would, just like he had the last time he’d been told to kill. Because he was in way too deep. He had to kill Rhett Porter. He commanded his churning stomach to settle. After all, what was one more?

Atlanta , Tuesday, January 30, 3:25 p.m.

“And so the social worker is recording it for me,” Alex finished. Sitting in the chair in front of Daniel’s desk she glanced from Daniel to Chase Wharton, whose body language was tense, but whose face was carefully blank. From the corner of her eye she looked at Ed Randall, who regarded her with a scrutiny that made her feel as if she was on display.

Chase turned to Daniel. “Call Papadopoulos. Make sure that recording is made correctly so we can separate out any background noise.”

“Who is Papadopoulos?” Alex asked, twisting her fingers together. That they hadn’t even suggested that Bailey had really made the call made her nervous.

“Luke,” Daniel said. “You met him earlier. He’s the one who drove your car back.”

“Speaking of which,” Alex said, nearly flinching at the warning look Daniel blasted her way, “I need my keys back, Daniel. I can’t stay here all day. I need to talk to Hope’s preschool. She’s doing other weird things we don’t understand. And at some point I need to go through Bailey’s house. If Loomis’s office won’t do it, then I have to.”

Chase turned to Ed. “Get a team out to Bailey Crighton’s house. Go through everything. Alex, you’re welcome to join him if you like.”

Alex’s hands stilled in her lap as the breath backed up in her lungs and the screeching began. It was louder now. It was just the stress of the afternoon. Quiet. Quiet. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Grow up, Alex. It’s just a damn house. She looked up at Chase Wharton, resolute. “Thank you. I will.”

“I’ll get that team together,” Ed said. “Do you want to ride with me, Miss Fallon?”

She met Daniel’s stern glare. He was scared again, she thought. “I’d actually like to drive my own car, but I’d feel safer if I drove in front of you on the way out to Dutton. I think that would address Agent Vartanian’s concerns as well, wouldn’t it?”

She saw Ed’s lips twitch and decided she liked the man, even if he did stare at her strangely. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to go,” he said and closed the door behind him.

“Daniel’s told me about the child. What weird new thing is she doing?” Chase asked.

“She’s playing a tune on the old organ in the bungalow I’m renting. Same six notes over and over. Neither of us knows the tune.”

“Maybe Sister Anne knows it,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “We can ask her tonight when we take Hope back up to the shelter.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “I assumed you’d be too busy.”

He gave her a look of tolerant annoyance. “I may not be able to get down to your place for dinner, but we need to take Hope to see Sister Anne. If Hope saw something, we need to know. Bailey is connected to all this. She might even be an eyewitness.”

“I agree,” Chase said. “Miss Fallon, we’re arranging for police protection for you and your niece. It won’t be twenty-four-hour because we simply don’t have the resources, but we’ll have drive-bys. You’ll also have a list of all our cell phone numbers in case of an emergency. Do not hesitate to call us if you think you’re in danger.”

“I won’t. Thank you.” She stood up and held out her hand. “My keys?”

Jaw cocked, Daniel pulled her keys from his pocket. “Call me. And stay with Ed.”

“I’m not stupid, Daniel. I’ll be careful.” She turned at his office door. “My satchel?”

His blue eyes narrowed. “Don’t push your luck, Alex.”

“But you’ll bring it later?”

“Yeah, sure. Later.” He almost growled it.

“And Riley?”

One side of his mouth lifted. “And Riley.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”