“That you’d come see where the first body was found? The parking lot where Dr. Spencer was kidnapped?” He shook his head. “Rather morbid bit of spectating.”

“But this story is huge! And it started right here,” Tiffany said. “It’s all they talk about on the news!”

“And isn’t that a sorry statement. On a slow news week a celebrity hangnail could command national attention.”

JJ cleared her throat. “Can you tell us why they’re shutting down this room? I think it’s kinda cool.”

“Well, after the body was found here, it seemed in bad taste, even by Vegas standards. There was some thought of simply eliminating the graveyard, but now, with all the attention this case has been getting, Poe has lost his fun factor. We’re going to remodel the room. This haunted house will become the cathedral Notre Dame de Paris. Should be ready by Halloween.”

“Bitchin’.”

The man stopped, tilted his head, looked at her strangely. “Would you mind saying that again?”

JJ gave him a look. “Why?”

“Humor me.”

“Oooo-kayyy.” She glanced at her friends and shrugged. “Bitchin’.”

“Perfect delivery.” He snapped his fingers. “Has anyone ever told you that you resemble Britney Spears?”

“Me?” She pressed her hand against her chest. “No.”

“I’m surprised. Are you familiar with our Legends show? It’s an impersonator gig. They’re all the rage right now-hotter than the buffets. Everybody’s got one, but ours is the best. We’ve been looking for a Britney Spears.”

“Serious?”

“Dead. If you’re interested, I could set up an audition.”

She hesitated. “I can’t sing all that well.”

“You don’t have to. We play records-all you do is move your lips. Well, for a Britney Spears show, I suppose you move everything. But you don’t sing.”

“I can dance,” JJ said, bubbling. “I’m a cheerleader. I know how to move.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

“What do you think, girlfriends?” She turned to her cohorts, then back to him. “You got any parts for my friends?”

“I can’t guarantee anything. But Britney usually performs with backup dancers, doesn’t she?”

“Cool! What would I have to do?”

“Just audition.” He handed her a card. “Here’s my address. If you could come by tonight around midnight-”

JJ’s brow furrowed. “Is this your place?”

“Yes. I just moved in. Why?”

JJ stared at the card pensively. “I don’t know… I’m not sure I’d feel right going to a stranger’s house alone. I mean, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all, but what with… you know. All that’s been going on.”

“I can assure you I’m perfectly safe.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, but-”

“I’m not really Edgar Allan Poe, you know. I just play one on TV.”

She giggled. “Well… could we all come? Together?”

He clasped his hands together. “I think that would be lovely. Strength in numbers, right?” He beamed. “I have a very good feeling about this audition. I have something marvelous to show you.”

“Freeze!”

The girls jumped. From behind the crumbling haunted house façade, a man in a uniform came running toward them.

“Elliot, you’re under arrest.”

The man in the Poe getup threw up his arms. “Damn! What are you doing here?”

“Protecting these foolish young ladies from you.” He grabbed the man’s wrists and handcuffed him. “Hotel security, ladies.”

Judy took two steps backward. “But-doesn’t he work here?”

“No, he doesn’t, and if you don’t mind my saying so, miss, you were foolish to think he did just because he’s in a Poe getup. I’ve been listening, waiting until he solicited an illicit rendezvous with minors. This man is a known exhibitionist.”

“A-what?”

“He had something marvelous to show you, all right. But it wouldn’t have gotten you a part in a show.”

JJ gulped air. “Oh, geez, yuck. I feel so stupid.”

“You should. Do you girls understand that there is a sadistic killer on the loose in this town? This isn’t the time to go sneaking away from your teachers to see if you can get a souvenir from a crime scene. Young women are being tortured and killed. And the way you were acting, you could well have been next on the list.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Tiffany jumped in. “We weren’t thinking.”

“Yeah,” Judy said. “We’ll go back where we’re supposed to be. We promise.”

“As if that was worth anything.” He pushed his arrestee toward the door. “You just stick with me, young ladies. I’ll drop him off at our holding facility. And then I will personally escort you back to your sponsor.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can just-”

“With all due respect, miss, I’m not offering you a choice. I’m in charge of security here, and the hotel doesn’t need any more young corpses turning up. You’re sticking with me.”

Tiffany gazed at him with admiration. “He’s right. He’s got a job to do. Let’s go with him, girls.”

They followed the guard out of the ballroom.

The irony, he realized, a few minutes later as he led them out to his truck, was that all the publicity about the mad Poe killer had made it not tougher but easier to obtain offerings. When people are afraid, they put their trust in authority figures. A little too much so, as it turned out.

He could hardly contain his delight. This was so perfect, and so much simpler. Why not do all three at once? Now that he knew the truth, knew all the secrets, everything was so clearer. But those cheerleader outfits would have to go. Garish colors, preposterously provocative short skirts, even matching colored underwear. They looked more like streetwalkers than schoolchildren. Shocking. And the makeup would have to come off, all of it. The jewelry. And God knows, the studs. He just hoped none of them had tattoos. That could be time-consuming. And painful.

He smiled with the sweet contentment of a man who enjoys his work, who knows that his endeavors are worthwhile. There was so much to be done. So much wonderful work to be done.

The Raven never rests.

“We’re not going to find him, are we?”

It was two in the morning, and I suppose Patrick was tired of humoring me. “Did you think we would?”

No. Of course not. Catch a killer before he strikes when you haven’t got the who or what or where, only a deadly certainty that it will happen? Not likely. But I needed to try. If there was any chance of preventing a girl from experiencing what that man did to me, I had to try.

“We can pack it in,” I said, trying to be charitable. “If you want.”

“I can take it as long as you can,” he replied. “I’m a fed, you know. We’re invincible.”

“I’ve heard that. But I’ve never had a chance to prove it.”

“You came damn close the other night.”

Ouch. Me and my smart mouth.

I looked out the window again, searching for some basis-any basis-to change the subject. Barry Friedman, my favorite comic, was playing at the Excalibur. What a treat that would be. Put all this misery aside and just laugh for a while. But I knew that wasn’t an option. Didn’t matter where I sat-I wouldn’t be thinking about the jokes.

Patrick’s face was a study in chiaroscuro as the car oozed down the street, segueing from one bright light to the next. A handsome, strong face. One I’d never taken the time to sort out my feelings for. Oh, sure, I’d had sex with him. I think. I’d yelled at him, bossed him around, been rude as hell to him. But how did I actually feel about him? How did I feel about anything? Why didn’t I know? Had the booze deadened me? Or was I just dead and using the booze to hide the ugly truth from myself?

Hadn’t had a drink all day. Hadn’t had a drink since Edgar grabbed me. Another good thing about wasting the night trolling the streets of Vegas with Patrick. No opportunity. Of course, I felt hellish, but there were extenuating circumstances. Patrick had wanted me to check myself back into the hospital, and I have to admit that I was tempted. But I couldn’t let this manhunt go on without me. I was needed here.