Lure her out, kill her. It could still work, but not as long as she was on guard, careful. He had to throw her off-balance. Scare her to death. Then he’d lure her out and kill her.

Wednesday, February 24, 3:10 a.m.

Eve was cursing herself for leading Noah to the wrong address. But how could you have known? She couldn’t have, she knew, but what if Rachel was next? What if they didn’t find her in time? Rachel Ward would be one more death on her head.

She was staring at the list, wondering how many more addresses were mailbox stores, wondering if there was a fast way to weed them out. Just in case this happened again. It can’t happen again. We have to stop this guy.

She zoomed in on the address column on her participant list. And then cursed herself again, peering at the column next to the addresses. Social Security numbers. Dammit, she had Socials on every participant. She already knew Noah had four Rachel Wards to check out. She’d run an address check of her own as soon as they’d hung up. Socials would tell her which Rachel Ward was theirs.

She logged into the website Ethan used for background checks with the user name and password he’d set up for her when they’d talked that morning, blessing him for his foresight. She plugged in the information she knew and set the search in motion.

Rachel, where are you? Please be all right.

Feeling helpless, Eve toggled back to Shadowland and retrieved Greer. Maybe they were worried for nothing. Maybe the purple-haired dancer was wrong. Maybe Rachel’s Delilah had taken a goddamn virtual football team to her virtual condo for a virtual orgy.

She thought of Sal. How right he’d been. Aviators and orgies, indeed.

Eve guided Greer to Delilah’s condo, trepidation tightening her throat. And then she saw what she’d known deep down would be true. Too late. We’re too late.

Slowly, she backed Greer away from the black wreath on Rachel’s door, not wanting to see what was inside. Eve could still see Christy Lewis’s empty eyes staring at her in real life. She didn’t need to see the virtual equivalent one more time.

Four. Samantha, Martha, Christy, and now Rachel. He’d killed four women.

At the bottom of her screen the tab for the background check web-site was flashing. Her search was complete. Too late.

Blindly Eve reached for her cell and dialed Noah.

Wednesday, February 24, 3:15 a.m.

Olivia parked her car in front of the address Noah had given her and walked up to the house. It was dark. As quiet as the rest of the street. Carefully she picked her way around the back, through the snow, and looked up.

Her heart sank. “Dammit,” she whispered.

The upstairs bedroom window was wide open.

Chapter Fourteen

Wednesday, February 24, 3:15 a.m.

Noah answered Eve’s call on his cell. “I don’t know anything yet,” he said.

“I do,” she said quietly.

Noah slowed his car to a stop, a block from the address he’d drawn. “Tell me.”

“I found Rachel’s address.” It was the one Olivia was checking at this very moment.

“How?” he asked. In her voice he heard defeat and he knew. Too late.

“I had their Socials. We paid them a small study stipend and needed the Socials for tax purposes. I ran a background check and found the Rachel we’re looking for.”

“But?”

“There’s a black wreath on her door in Shadowland. We’re too late, Noah.”

“You stay put,” he ordered. “And stop feeling guilty. I’ll call you when I can.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” No sooner had he hung up than his phone vibrated again. Olivia. “You found her,” he said dully.

“I’m looking at an open window, second story. How did you know?”

“Eve found her dead in the game. Call CSU. I’ll be there in under fifteen.”

“And Jack?”

Noah put his car into gear. “Still not answering his phone.”

“Noah, we have to call Abbott. You can’t keep covering for Jack.”

“I know. Don’t go in without me. Last time he used a poisonous snake.”

“More fun and games,” she said bitterly. “This guy’s a vile piece of shit.”

Olivia was waiting for him in front of Rachel’s house. Jack was nowhere to be found.

“I think it’ll be easier to get in through the back door,” Olivia said.

It took only one thrust of his shoulder. “Police,” Noah called, weapon drawn.

“Do you smell something burning?” Olivia murmured.

“Yeah. That’s new.” He lowered his weapon as he entered Ward’s bedroom. There she hung, like all the others. Right down to the shoes.

“Her eyes,” she whispered. This was her first time seeing it in person. There was something about the victims’ eyes that didn’t get captured in the crime scene photos. She touched Rachel’s arm, then whirled, her own eyes wide. “Noah, she’s still warm.”

Noah was there in two steps. “She’s been here maybe an hour,” he said.

“If that.” Her round blue eyes flashed fury. “A car was leaving the neighborhood, just as I was driving in. Brown Civic. I missed him. If I’d been a few minutes faster…”

Frustration clawed. Dammit, if Jack had answered… He let himself finish the thought. This woman would be alive and we’d have a killer in custody.

“He wasn’t driving a brown Civic when he followed Christy Lewis home,” he said tightly. “But changing cars could be his newest up-yours.”

“I remember his plate number. I’ll call it in.”

While she did, Noah dialed Micki, who was on her way. “We have another.”

“Any snakes this time?” Micki asked and Noah crouched to check Rachel’s ankles.

His stomach lurched. “No. It appears Miss Ward was afraid of fire.”

Olivia finished calling in the BOLO on the brown Civic and crouched next to him, her pretty face twisted in a horrified grimace.

“Aw, hell, Web,” she murmured.

“What did he burn?” Micki asked.

Noah swallowed hard at the sight of Rachel Ward’s blistered flesh. “Her feet.”

Wednesday, February 24, 4:15 a.m.

“I thought I smelled something burning,” David said, leaning over the stove where Eve had left a scorched pot. “You’ll never get this clean. What were you trying to cook?”

“Cocoa.” Coffee had become too much for her churning stomach. Rachel was dead. We were too late. “I got distracted when I was making the first batch and it scorched.”

He took the mug next to her elbow and tasted it. “Not bad.”

“You’re not the only one who can make stuff,” she muttered. “So make your own.”

He took another sip instead. “Where’d you get the recipe?”

“Internet.” She took her mug, sloshing hot cocoa over the sides. “Go back to bed.”

“Can’t. I wake up when I smell stuff burning. I’m a firefighter, remember?” He said it teasingly but she didn’t smile. “Spill it.” He was serious now. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She haltingly obeyed, starting with Buckland and the photos, ending with Rachel. David’s face had darkened through her story. “Does the fact that this Buckland asshole pops up at the same time as a serial killer bother anyone but me?”

“No, it bothers Noah, too. Buckland’s officially on the radar. But Buckland’s been reporting for a couple years. Local color, obituaries. That he’d suddenly start killing people…” She shrugged. “I’m too tired to think.”

“Then go to bed, honey. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Rachel and the others.”

“Not your fault,” he said softly, tilting her chin up. “What happened with Webster?”

“Nothing.”

He sat back, brows lifted. “So… did he kiss you yet?”

His tone was so engagingly nosy, she might have smiled. But the thought of that kiss in the bar, so… proprietary. So necessary. So impossible. Her eyes stung. “Stop.”