“Smart idea, private protection,” Melanie said sarcastically.

“Look, with funding cuts and all, Ramirez is terribly understaffed,” Randall said. “He’s only doing this out of respect for Jed Benson’s memory. His squad had an emergency last night. They get a tip about a major cocaine shipment in a disabled tractor-trailer on the BQE, and when they go in to investigate, they wind up in a shoot-out. I’m not shittin’ you-heard it over the radio myself. So this kid gets called away to assist. He’s told a replacement is on the way, so he leaves. Turns out dispatch screwed up. Nobody got that call. The kid worked all night on the bust and came back here to relieve that other guy, only to find the place swarming with Jersey cops because of this mess.”

“I feel for him. Poor thing.”

Randall’s jaw tightened. “Strikes me you’re looking to point fingers. I don’t really hold with that. People try their best, but shit happens.”

“Our witness is dead-no, a lovely, decent, scared human being is dead, and the best you can do is say ‘shit happens’? That’s pathetic, Randall. You’ve been on this job too long.”

“Hey, enough, don’t get personal,” Dan said firmly. “That’s not productive. I know you’re upset, but we got work to do.”

Randall glared at her. “That’s right, Melanie. You’re wasting time and energy on this blame game. Meanwhile, our friend with the knife is thinking about where to strike next.” He turned to Dan. “They haven’t canvassed the hotel staff yet. I’m gonna start with that.”

“Okay. I’ll call over to the squad and see if we can get some more personnel,” Dan said.

“What, like roadblocks and helicopter support?” Randall asked.

“Nah. Useless. From the looks of the blood, she was killed hours ago.”

“I agree. Why chase a quarry that’s long gone?”

“I’m talking about anticipating his next move.”

Melanie looked back and forth between them. It was obvious what Slice’s next move would be. “You mean Amanda Benson,” she said.

“Yes,” Dan said.

Randall nodded soberly. “You better make those calls fast. For all we know, Slice left here and headed straight for that hospital.”

Randall walked away just as Butch Brennan and his crime-scene team arrived in force.

“Whoa, looks like you guys got a serious psycho on your hands,” Butch said, dumping a load of equipment in the corner of the room and walking over to the dresser. “Look at this. My first severed head in five years. A real clean cut, too. Guy can chop, I’ll say that for him. Hey, Castro, we need a few nice pictures of this one.”

“You got it, boss. Pictures of the head. What else?”

“Any cuts on the body that show the size of the blade. ME’ll compare ’em to cuts on Benson’s body, and the murder weapon, if we get lucky enough to find it.”

The crime-scene team took control efficiently, herding the rest of the New Jersey police out of the room and confining Dan and Melanie to the tiny entry hall so the team members could work without interference. While they waited, Dan and Melanie started working their cell phones, looking for reinforcements. Melanie tried without luck to reach Bernadette, who was out of the office until midafternoon. Dan left several messages for guys who he said owed him favors. Bottom line, they both came up empty-handed for the moment. After a while Randall returned, shaking his head.

“Of course nobody saw or heard a thing,” he said. “Nothing that could help with time of death. No physical description either. Only thing is a pile of cigarette butts in a closet down the hall.”

“That’s something, anyway,” Melanie said. “Let’s have Butch’s guys collect them for DNA sampling.”

“Will do.” He nodded gravely.

“Listen, Randall, I owe you an apology.”

“I owe you one, too. I can see how upset you are. First time you lose a witness?”

“Yes, and I’m gonna make damn sure it’s the last.”

“Nothing worse than that. Except maybe losing a partner. I been through that, too. Look, honey, let me pass along something it took me a lotta hard years to learn. Play for your own team. Maybe that sounds cynical, but useful things often are. There’s us and there’s them. Pointing fingers at us only helps them. And this is one guy you don’t want to help.” His glance took in the whole blood-spattered room.

She wasn’t sure she agreed with Randall’s message, but before she could open her mouth to reply, Butch Brennan came over to give them a report.

“Whaddaya got, Butch?” Dan asked.

“Off the bat, different MO from the last time.”

“How’s that?” Melanie asked.

“Well, as far as I can tell, this is a straight knife job. No dog attack, no gunshot, no setting the remains on fire. As far as I can tell.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melanie asked.

“Not everything’s here to examine.”

She felt light-headed again, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “What’s missing?”

“Quite a bit. One of the arms. Both legs. The torso’s here. It was under the blankets. But it’s been cut open and, like, scooped out. You wanna know exactly what’s missing from inside, you need to ask the ME.”

“Why would he do that?” Dan asked.

A vision of the stolen animal-torture photographs flashed into Melanie’s mind with such clarity that she gasped. They all looked at her.

“For his dog,” she said with absolute conviction, remembering the bloodied paws and muzzle in the bottom corner of the Polaroid. “Slice took the parts for his dog.”

“I bet you’re right,” Dan said. “That sick fuck.”

“We’ve got to stop him. And we’d better get to Amanda Benson right away.”

23

THE CAVERNOUS MAIN FLOOR OF SAKS WAS JAM-PACKED and noisy at lunch hour. Nell Benson strolled past the cosmetics displays, stopping occasionally to spray perfume across her wrist as she looked in every direction. Her senses were sharp, but they weren’t doing her much good in this chaotic place. Vast flower displays and mirrored partitions impeded her view. Sound floated upward, became muddy, and disappeared into the vine-covered ceiling as into the dome of a cathedral. Still, she was relatively confident she wasn’t being followed.

She took the lumbering wooden elevator to the fourth floor. Here everything was bright and open. She was certain now she was alone. Even so, she walked around, fingering a garment now and then, looking over her shoulder discreetly. Best to be careful. A saleslady, noting her expensive bag and the diamonds weighing down her hand, stepped forward and asked if she needed help.

“Just looking,” Nell said. After a moment she headed for the ladies’ room.

The waiting area smelled bad, so she raised her perfumed wrist to her nose. A young mother sat on the upholstered bench by the pay telephone, nursing her baby. Nell looked at her, frowned, and disappeared into a stall for a while. When she came back, the mother was still there. Nell walked casually over to the makeup mirror and opened her bag, taking her time choosing a lipstick shade. She watched in the mirror as the mother closed her blouse, tucked her baby back into the stroller, and left.

When the waiting area was empty, Nell went over to the pay phone. She dug around in the bottom of her bag, the blinking green light of her cell phone providing just enough illumination to help her find a quarter. The plastic receiver was greasy in her hand as she dropped the quarter into the slot. God knew what you could catch from these things, but at least they still took change. She’d had a moment of fear about that in the elevator. When she got the dial tone, she punched in the number.

“Hello?” Rommie answered.

“It’s Nell.”

“Well, hello. What’s this number you’re calling from? I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s a pay phone.”

“A pay phone?” He sighed. “You watch too many spy movies.”