"It had been parked by a hotel valet."

She immediately leaned forward. "Meaning the valets had access to the keys."

He nodded. "But the keys to that particular car were still at the valet stand the next morning."

"Hot-wired? That would indicate a certain kind of criminal."

"No. Dr. Kean admitted she kept a spare key to the car in a magnetic box inside the fender."

"Leaving a key hidden right on the vehicle in this day and age?" she asked, sounding astonished. "Good grief some people are so naive."

She used to be one of them. Not that he intended to mention that. "Apparently, the doctor has a teenage son, a new driver, who has already locked himself out of the car several times."

"What, and she never heard of OnStar?"

Wyatt ignored her sarcasm. "When the vehicle was searched after your attack, that magnetic box was open, the key gone. It's very possible the unsub just went hunting for a car with a spare key hidden on it and struck pay dirt."

Lily's frown remained.

"Dr. Kean was very upset and concerned about being implicated in any way," he said, seeing she still had doubts. "She was entirely cooperative."

"Well, she can rest easy, anyway. I know Lovesprettyboys was not a female." A bitter laugh escaped her mouth. "Though I did hear a woman's voice during those final hours I spent in that shack."

Stunned, he leaned closer. "What?"

Lily immediately shook her head, negating his assumptions. "No, no, it wasn't a real voice. Just one in my head."

Probably her own voice encouraging her to not give up, to get away while she still had the chance. He blessed that voice; he really did. "Your own?"

"No. A ghost's, I think. My sister's."

Wyatt couldn't stop himself from reaching out and clasping her hand, noting the coldness of her fingers. He quickly pulled away, knowing physical contact wasn't what Lily wanted right now. She might never want it again. Besides which, it shouldn't come from him.

"Don't be so sure," he said. "It's possible the unsub spoke with a woman, maybe someone walking on the beach, who had no idea he was holding you captive inside. It's one more avenue to explore."

"Maybe."

He got back to the things they knew for sure. "Dr. Kean claims she had no idea someone had taken the car from valet parking until the next morning, when she reported it stolen and found out it had been used in a crime. Since she was staying at the Richmond hotel, the police hadn't been able to use the vehicle registration to reach her at home the previous night."

"Okay, back to the valet parking. What about surveillance video?"

"The valet lot was full because of the conference. The attendants started parking overflow in the back alley of the hotel. No cameras."

She reached for the cigarettes, drew one out, twisting it between her fingers but making no effort to light. "And the witness? Were you able to get anything from him at all?"

"The vagrant told us the unsub had been wearing thick gloves, a heavy coat, a furred cap that disguised his features. Considering he was having withdrawal shakes after just a few hours of interrogation, I'd say that description was pretty good. He also admitted he'd grabbed the key from the ignition while the unsub was retrieving something from the backseat, worrying he would be left behind if things went wrong."

"Good move for him. Not so good for me and poor Vince Kowalski."

Special Agent Kowalski had been shot dead in the street right in front of Lily's eyes.

"Brandon's been working on the cyber angle, of course, and tracked the computer used by the unsub to an IP in central Virginia. The ISP led to a Wi-Fi hot spot in a mall."

"Sure. Why not sit in a food court and stalk little kids in an online chat room?"

He hadn't been in the food court. Wyatt had gone over every inch of the mall's surveillance tapes. Wherever the unsub had been when he'd picked up the signal, it hadn't been within camera range.

Sighing, she mumbled, "That's about all you know, then."

She didn't ask about the forensics from inside the stolen van, or the beach shack. Some issues were apparently too much, even for her. Nor did she ask him about the other online leads, what other information they'd gotten from the chat rooms and message boards where she, posting as a little girl, had attracted the attention of their unsub.

He suspected he knew why. If Lily hadn't been up here doing her own online investigating, then he was no judge of character at all.

Maybe you're not. Look what you're doing right now, wondering if she could possibly be a killer.

Every instinct he owned screamed no. But he had to make certain. He didn't want to spy on her, but he'd gone ahead and checked the mileage on the Jeep. He'd bought it slightly used and had a good idea of what the original mileage had been. If there'd been another several thousand miles on it, his suspicions would have increased. There wasn't, however.

That didn't mean she couldn't have driven to the closest bus station, train station, or airport. He always left plenty of cash for her personal use.

She remained silent, still, moving only the tips of her fingers on the surface of the table. Her nails tapped out a nervous beat, and she averted her gaze as she mumbled, "I've been doing some thinking."

"Undoubtedly." Wyatt stiffened, red flags going up in his head. He already knew that when Lily announced she'd been doing some thinking, he would probably end up trying to talk her out of something. Like, for instance, this whole obsession with tae kwon do and additional weapons training.

"We've known all along he was someone with money."

"Yes." The unsub had once offered a small fortune to a serial killer to have his ugly fantasies enacted online.

"And though he hurt me, he knew enough to keep me alive. To stitch me up."

He already knew where she was going. "Of course we've considered all the medical personnel who were at that convention. We've looked into their backgrounds, investigated their location the night in question and the week following. We showed the witness photos of every registered male attendee we could get a picture of. Nothing."

She waved a hand. "I know that."

"Damn it," he muttered, wondering if she knew her ass might not be on the line for staying dead, but certainly could be if she'd been hacking into an FBI computer system.

She came up with a quick explanation, as if realizing he was holding himself on a very short tether regarding his suspicions about her hacking. "I mean, I know you would do that, not that I know know."

Of course.

"I was just thinking about it the other day, though, and wondered if I might be able to help."

"How? Do you want to see the pictures?"

"I've seen most of them."

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Oh, come on, would you relax? I'm not spending my days nosing around in your precious system, okay? It didn't take me more than sixty seconds to find out which hotel and which medical convention was going on that weekend. Nor to find a list of the speakers, honorees, and attendees. Most doctors have Web sites now, you know, and most of those sites have photos of their staff members."

He didn't take the news as good or bad, knowing from the beginning that she would probably be unable to visually identify the man.

"What I was thinking is, if we could possibly get any tapes or recordings from that conference, and I listened to the voices…"

He immediately followed. "I'm sorry. I just don't see that working. It was months ago. You were wounded. And you know he was drugging you."

She nodded once, undeterred. "Wyatt, I hear that man's voice in my dreams every single night. It is imprinted on my brain."

Maybe. But dreams were tricky things.

"I'd know him," she insisted. "Maybe six months ago, I wouldn't have. My head was too clouded. I was too scared. Now. though, I'm thinking rationally, seeing things with utter clarity. And I honestly believe I'd know that voice." She shivered slightly. "That cold, mocking voice."