About to walk into the house, knowing he couldn't put off going into work and dealing with Crandall for much longer, he paused when Jackie said, "Okay, then.

If the world's going to find out Lily's alive, we have to act as fast as we can to clear up the lily murders and remove her from suspicion. We've got to find something that clears her in those cases while we're also trying to find the unsub."

"I know," he said. "Brandon's been working on the victims' computer hard drives when he can, tracing IPs in the communications between killer and victim."

"And I bet those IPs aren't in Maine. It should be easy to prove Lily didn't send the e-mails to lure them in."

Having thought of that, he shook his head. "Anspaugh won't go for it. Once he finds out where Lily's been, that she has almost no witnesses to confirm her location for most of the summer, he'll decide she left the area to e-mail her victims. Just like the Professor did last winter."

"It only takes one," Jackie insisted. "One message sent from another geographical area when we can prove Lily was in Maine."

"Then he'll claim she used her computer expertise to fake the IP."

Jackie blew out an irritated breath. "Come on, you know we can prove she's innocent."

She was right; he was just being pessimistic, still too focused on the damned evidence in the Boyd case. "I know; of course we can. We will. I would just prefer to do it before she gets arrested." And before Lily was put in a cell where somebody with a long reach and a lot of money might be able to get to her. Wyatt had too much experience with the criminal-justice system, with courts and prison security, to trust them entirely. Especially not with the safety of someone he cared about.

A lot.

"We have to bring the others in, you know, get them working on this-"

"Quiet!" Lily, who had been listening in silence, launched herself from her chair. She yanked the laptop right out from Brandon's typing fingers and spun it toward herself. And just like last week, she leaned close to the speakers, her frightened face a mask of concentration.

That audio file had been droning on in the background. Lily hadn't been intently listening to his conversation with Jackie; she'd been listening to the medical workshop they'd started on nearly two hours ago.

"You heard him again?" Wyatt asked.

She nodded once. "Yes, and it's the same situation as before. He's on there not as a speaker but someone in the audience." She found the volume button on the front of the laptop and jabbed it a half-dozen times.

They heard voices, laughter; then one of the original speakers came on. "As you might have guessed, that cheeky man in the audience knows a little bit about my methods. He has had his hands on the posteriors of half the women in the state of Virginia."

"I learned from the best," another voice called from the background, though not too far from a microphone to be heard.

It was that voice. That same voice Lily had singled out before. Not as cold and condescending this time as it had been toward Angela Kean, but there was still a note of arrogance that rang clearly, even through the humor.

"What can I say, like father, like son!"

Father. Son.

Impossible.

"That's him, Wyatt!" Lily's blue eyes gleamed with tension. "It's him, and now we've got him! Who was he talking to? Which speaker was that, the one he said was his father?"

"It was Alfred Underwood," Wyatt murmured.

Alfred Underwood, whose stepson, Philip Wright, had been another speaker on that panel. One of the men Lily had already excluded this very morning.

There was only one explanation.

Without another word, he reached for the laptop and pulled it from her, just as Lily had taken it from Brandon. Around him, their voices swelled. Lily launched into a number of questions, plans, with Brandon and Jackie adding their own. The louder their voices, the less Wyatt could hear their words. They simply became a hum of background noise as he focused all his attention on his own thoughts. Because though the answer was now clear to him, and so many things made sense, several others did not.

They most definitely did not.

Opening a search engine, he typed in a name. Hundreds of hits came back almost immediately and he pulled up the first one, scanning the article, checking the dates.

Pay dirt.

It fit. The timing all fit. Everything that had happened right up until the night he had rescued Lily, it all made sense.

Beyond that? Not so much.

Scrolling down, he came to a black-and-white photograph of a man, which dominated the center of the article. Clearing his throat, he turned the laptop around so the others could see the screen. "Here he is. This is the man you just heard."

As Lily stared at the picture, emotions washed over her face, anger, fear, and sorrow. He saw no recognition, though. Her attacker had done a good job at concealing his face from her. But not his voice.

"That's him?" she whispered. "That's Lovesprettyboys?"

The man of her nightmares. The man they'd all hunted so desperately one year ago when working on the Reaper case. "Yes."

She shook her head slowly. "He looks so normal. It's hard to believe he's completely insane, killing Kowalski, kidnapping me."

'"What evil lurks in the hearts of men?'" he quoted softly.

"Evil. Yes. He has to be utterly evil. Not just for what he did in the heat of a desperate moment, but to be so calculating to have lured and brutally murdered three or four other men to try to find me."

"That," Wyatt said, his voice low and intense, "he did not do."

The others all eyed him with confusion. Then Lily exclaimed, "You just said-"

"I said this is the man we knew as Lovesprettyboys, and yes, he's the man who attacked you. But he's not the one who has been killing those other pedophiles, trying to set you up for murder. He's not the lily killer."

Wyatt scrolled the screen back up to the top, so they could see the headline from the Williamsburg paper. It had been published months ago. Seven and a half to be precise.

And it raised more questions than it answered.

"Oh, ray God!" Lily said, shock pulling every bit of color from her face.

"What the hell?" Jackie asked.

Brandon remained silent, shaking his head in confusion.

They all grasped what it meant, but Wyatt laid it out, anyway. "Roger Underwood, the man who kidnapped you, died last January, Lily. On the very night of your escape. Lovesprettyboys is dead"

No relief washed over her beautiful face, no moment of obvious satisfaction that the man who'd tortured her was no longer out there, waiting for his chance to do it again. How could she be relieved or satisfied?

"Then who…?"

She didn't need to finish the question. They were all wondering the same thing.

If Roger Underwood, the original unsub, was dead, who was out there now, still trying to destroy Lily Fletcher completely?