It was a long shot, but he heard the hope in her voice and couldn’t bear to shoot it down. “You’re thinking whoever took her finally got her to talk.”

“I’m thinking she might still be alive.”

He sighed. She might be right. “If she is alive-”

“If she is alive, then one of those men knows where she is. Davis or Mansfield. Daniel, please, bring them in and make them tell.”

“If they’ve gone to this much trouble, it’s unlikely they’ll just tell,” Daniel said, trying to soothe without sounding patronizing. “It’s more likely they’ll get nervous and go to her. If it’s Davis or Mansfield, we have them under surveillance. I know it’s hard, but this is the most critical time to stay patient.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know, honey.” He pulled his car into a metered space along the curb across from the bank. “Anything else? I’m heading into the bank to ask Rob Davis to give me that box, so if Davis and Mansfield are watching, I’m about to set off a flare.”

“Well, there is one little thing. The vet’s office called. Riley can leave.”

Daniel shook his head, perplexed at her timing. “I can’t get him right now.”

“Oh, I know, but I was wondering if the agent watching Hope and Meredith could take Riley to the safe house. Hope’s been asking for the sad dog.”

That made him smile. “Sure. I’ll call you later. You stay put.”

“I am.” And she sounded none too happy about it. “You be careful.”

“I am. Alex…” He hesitated, a little afraid of the words he wanted to say. It had happened so fast. In the end he decided to keep the words to himself a little longer. “Tell Meredith not to feed Riley anything other than his dry food. Trust me.”

“I do,” she said, and he knew she wasn’t talking about Riley. “Call when you can.”

“I will. This will be over soon.” Feeling as if he stood at the edge of a precipice, Daniel crossed the street to the bank. As soon as he asked for that safe-deposit box, everyone would know, and whatever shit was out there would hit the fan. You gotta love small towns. No, he didn’t.

Friday, February 2, 12:45 p.m.

Annoyed, Mack pulled his earphones from his ears as Vartanian drove up Main Street, out of range. Fancied himself a ladies’ man, my ass. He’d hated Mr. Grant-stuffy, arrogant old prick. When he’d finished off the others, he’d come back for Grant and the man would regret talking to Daniel Vartanian.

Daniel knew about him. It gave Mack a kick, knowing the man was probably combing the countryside looking for him while he’d sat just fifty feet away.

But his satisfaction was short-lived. Vartanian had come alone.

He never dreamed Vartanian would come alone. He’d just assumed Alex Fallon would be permanently attached to him as she had been for the last five days. He was finally ready for them and Vartanian had come alone.

If he wanted Alex Fallon to be the icing on his cake, he’d have to find a way to get her to come to him. Otherwise his coup de grâce would fall miserably flat and that would be a real shame. And speaking of his coup de grâce, he had invitations to mail.

He’d started up his van when he saw Vartanian walking across Main Street way up by the bank. Interesting. Daniel was finally visiting the bank. Mack thought finding keys tied to the toes of four dead women would have had the man visiting the bank sooner, but at last he was there.

Mack smiled when he thought about the pictures he knew Vartanian would find inside “Charles Wayne Bundy’s” safe-deposit box. Soon the pillars of the community would be humiliated, and at a minimum they’d all be sent to jail.

Of course, if over the next few hours Mack was successful, they’d all be dead.

Atlanta, Friday, February 2, 12:45 p.m.

Alex hung up the phone on Daniel’s desk and let her shoulders sag.

“Anything wrong?”

She turned to find Luke Papadopoulos watching her in that thoughtful way he had. “I have this feeling that Bailey’s still alive. I’m so… frustrated.”

“And you wish somebody would just do something.”

“Yeah. And I know Daniel’s right and that he has all these other people to worry about, but… Bailey’s mine. It makes me feel whiny and selfish.”

“You’re not being selfish or whiny. Come on. I’m taking a break for lunch. Usually I eat food from home, but it seems someone has appropriated my lunch.” He narrowed his eyes in the direction of Chase’s office. “He will pay.”

Alex had to smile. “Chase is quite a character. Leigh said the cafeteria has pizza on Fridays.” And she realized she was hungry. She’d left Daniel’s house in such a hurry that morning, she’d skipped breakfast. “Let’s go.” She looked up at him as they left Daniel’s office. He was a breathtakingly handsome man, she thought. Meredith’s type, actually. “So… you got a girlfriend?”

His smile flashed bright against his tanned skin. “Why, you tired of Danny already?”

She thought of that morning in Daniel’s bed and felt her cheeks heat. “No. I’m talking about Meredith. You’d like her. She’s fun.”

“Does she like to fish?”

“I really couldn’t say, but I could ask…” Her words drained away and she and Luke stopped in the same moment. Standing at the counter talking to Leigh was a woman with a face she recognized. From the tensing of Luke’s body, he recognized her, too.

She was small with sleek dark hair and sad, sad eyes. Her clothes said New York and her body language said she’d rather be anyplace other than where she now stood.

“Susannah,” Alex murmured, and the woman met her eyes.

“You know me?”

“I’m Alex Fallon.”

Susannah nodded. “I’ve read about you.” She turned to Luke. “And you’re Daniel’s friend. I met you at the funeral last week. Agent Papadopoulos, right?”

“Right,” Luke said. “Why are you here, Susannah?”

Susannah Vartanian’s lips curved humorlessly. “I’m not entirely sure. But I think I came to get my life back. And maybe my self-respect.”

Dutton, Friday, February 2, 12:55 p.m.

Such a lure could not be resisted. He watched Frank Loomis stop on the police department steps, open his phone, and check the text message. Loomis narrowed his eyes at the darkened windows of the newspaper office, closed today due to a death in the family. Mack had to smile. The Woolfs were grieving and he was the reason. It took a long time to pay a debt sometimes. When enough time had passed, the interest was huge.

He thought killing Woolf’s sister was a good start toward making good on that debt. He’d used the Woolfs this week and he’d use them a few more times before this was over. But for now, Frank Loomis was getting into his car and driving in the right direction.

The text message had been concise: Got anon tip. Know where Bailey C is. Go 2 old O’B mill by river. Find BC + *many* others. Can’t follow up-at funl home. Wanted you 2 have 411 before Var beat you 2 it. Good luck. Signed, Marianne Woolf.

Frank was on his way. Soon, Vartanian would join him. Mansfield should already be there along with Harvard, the last pillar to fall. It had taken Mack a while to figure out who he was and when he had, even he’d been stunned.

As for Alex Fallon, he had a few ideas for drawing her out. Alex’s entire focus in the last week had been on finding Bailey. And I know where Bailey is. Once the dust from the coming events of the afternoon settled, Alex would want to believe Bailey lived. Now that Delia was dead, Mack had no more plans to leave any more bodies in ditches, until Alex, that was. Perhaps the inactivity would lure her into a false sense of security.

Then again, she’d be grieving Daniel Vartanian’s death, and grief did make people do some very unwise things. Sooner or later, she’d let her guard down, and then he’d have his final victim. His closed circle.

Friday, February 2, 1:25 p.m.