Fascinating. Anger shot up in Daniel’s head like a geyser. “Damn you. Fascinating story. You tell that to the victims and their families. You’re getting your damn pictures from up in a tree. How sanitary, how damn nice. You come with me. You’re going to meet a victim up close and real personal.” He started walking, then turned. Woolf hadn’t budged. Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me drag you, Jim.”

Slowly Woolf followed, a mix of curiosity and apprehension on his face. Malcolm and Trey were lifting the body from the stretcher to the body bag on the gurney. “Peel back the blanket, Malcolm,” Daniel ordered sharply.

Malcolm complied. “It’s the same. Face beaten, bruises around the mouth.”

“This one’s got some serious hardware,” Trey said. “Earrings up and down both ears. A nose ring and a tongue stud.” He pointed to the victim’s shoulder. “And a tat. This one says L-A-L-L. Live and let live.”

There was a thud behind him. Daniel turned to find Jim Woolf frozen where he stood, his camera on the ground, and Daniel suddenly had a very good idea of who this woman was. He should feel guilty for making Jim look, but all he felt was pity for the young woman who’d never have a life. For all the young women who’d never have lives. It was, he thought bitterly, a fascinating turn of events. “Jim?”

Woolf’s mouth opened in horrified silence. He said nothing, just stared.

Daniel sighed. “Ed, can you put Mr. Woolf in your vehicle? This is his sister, Lisa.”

Atlanta, Thursday, February 1, 8:35 a.m.

Daniel and Ed both sank into chairs at the team table. Chase and Luke were already there. Talia had left to interview the rape victims they’d identified from the yearbooks. Daniel hoped her luck was better than his.

“We’ve got two more bodies,” Daniel said. “Sean Romney and Lisa Woolf. Seeing his sister like that loosened Jim’s tongue a little bit. He told me that a man called him with the ‘tips’ on Janet’s and Claudia’s bodies. All the other ‘tips’ were text messages that came in on a disposable cell. It wasn’t registered to any of his accounts, so we didn’t know to include it with the warrant.”

“And all the incoming text messages were untraceable,” Ed said with a sigh.

“Maybe he’ll be a little less interested in pimping stories for this killer now that his sister’s a victim,” Chase said darkly.

Luke was reading the front page of the Dutton Review Daniel had brought back with him. “Who is this Romney kid?”

“APD received an anonymous 911 telling them a young man was dead in an alley,” Daniel said. “They found Sean Romney with a bullet in his head. Apparently they didn’t recognize him as the picture they’d posted on their visor because he was too bloody. They didn’t get a positive ID until they’d cleaned up at the morgue at about five this morning. They called Chase and Chase called me.”

“He was only eighteen years old,” Luke noted. “He was only in kindergarten when Alicia was killed and those girls were raped. And he grew up in Atlanta.”

“But he’s connected to Dutton,” Daniel said wearily. “Sean is the grandson of Rob Davis, who owns the bank in Dutton. Rob Davis is Garth Davis’s uncle. Garth’s dad was the mayor for years and best friends with Congressman Bowie. I think Sean is like the keys he tied to the victims’ toes. A definite message.”

“And you’re thinking the message was addressed to Garth Davis,” Chase said.

Daniel nodded, troubled. “Garth’s the right age, only a year ahead of Simon and Wade. Garth knew Simon. We can’t dismiss the connection to Simon’s pictures.”

“You knew Garth,” Ed said. “Was he capable of the depravity in those pictures?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so. I still hope not. I was a senior and he was a freshman, so I didn’t know him all that well. I do remember him coming by our house a few times though, looking for Simon. I wouldn’t say they were friends, exactly, but they hung out.”

Luke shook his head. “He might have known Simon, but did he kill these women?”

Daniel brought his focus back to the present. “Garth couldn’t have killed Claudia. He was at Congressman Bowie’s house Monday night during the time frame Felicity said Claudia died. But Garth is the first person we can connect to both Simon and one of these victims.”

“No, Jim Woolf is connected to all the victims,” Chase corrected. “He’s taken every one of their pictures for his damn paper. He gets all these leads handed to him on a silver platter. The perp has to know we’re watching Woolf. Why does he continue to feed him leads if he knows Woolf’s going to be followed by us?” Chase lifted his brows. “Unless he wants us to watch Woolf.”

“He sent Jim to his own sister’s grave,” Ed said. “Pretty powerful message.”

“This guy went to a lot of trouble to get Lisa Woolf,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “She was a student at the university up in Athens. He had to either drive up there or lure her here. I’ve requested her phone records and I called the Athens field office. They’re going to search her apartment and interview her friends. Maybe somebody saw him following her last night.”

Chase pointed to the Review. “I want to know how Woolf got this picture. His tail said Woolf was in the newspaper office from nine till two last night. How did Woolf get to Atlanta to snap this photo of Romney? He must have sent someone else.”

“He wouldn’t have trusted just anybody,” Daniel said. “I’m betting good old Marianne had something to do with it. That’s Jim’s wife. Of course, Jim neglected to mention that when he was unburdening his soul.”

Ed was still frowning at the paper. “Wait. APD didn’t make a positive ID until about five this morning, after they’d gotten the body cleaned up at the morgue. Woolf had to have this story by press time. Even on a diddly paper like the Review, that’s gotta be around midnight. I mean, the papers are hittin’ Dutton doorsteps by six.”

Daniel remembered the paperboy’s delivery the morning before as he and Alex still lay on her sofa, panting and trembling, and felt his cheeks heat. “Right at five-thirty,” he agreed. “So Jim Woolf somehow knew who Romney was before the cops did. That’s more than a tip. That could be conspiracy.”

“You’re right,” Chase said. “Let’s pick him up. Maybe the threat of real jail will loosen his tongue a little more. Daniel, you’ll talk to this Marianne woman?”

“As soon as we’re done. Have we heard from Koenig and Hatton?”

Chase nodded. “Koenig called in about an hour and a half ago. He said they’d looked all night but couldn’t find Crighton. They were going to hit the shelters during breakfast, then call it a night and go home and sleep and try again tonight.”

“Damn.” Daniel squared his jaw. “I was really hoping to arrest that slimy SOB.”

“I watched the tape we made of Alex and McCrady again last night,” Ed said, “and I was thinking. Alex remembered Crighton saying that Alicia ‘asked for it with her short shorts.’ Sounds like he might have known about the rape.”

“You’re right,” Daniel said. “He said Wade didn’t kill Alicia, but of course he would. If Wade raped Alicia, that was probably what he confessed to Reverend Beardsley before he died, and maybe what he wrote in the letters to Bailey and Crighton.”

“I checked up on Crighton,” Luke said. “After Alicia died and Crighton killed Alex’s mother, Crighton went downhill fast. He had a good job before, but he’s been MIA for almost thirteen years. No income taxes, no record of credit cards. Nothing.”

“Instead he’s been living on the streets playing the flute for quarters,” Daniel said with contempt. “And beating up poor old nuns.”

“Oh.” Ed shook his head hard. “Flute. I was looking at the inventory of stuff we found at Bailey’s house and it included one empty flute case. It looked really old, like it hadn’t been used in years. Huge dust buildup in the case crevices and hinges, but the inside was clean, like it had just been opened. Did Bailey play the flute, too?”