“You still believe it.”

“I try really hard not to. But it’s still in there.”

“You need to find a way to get it out, once and for all.” He paused for a moment. “Have you thought about maybe seeing someone…?”

“Yeah, I have.” She tried to smile. “But basically, I’m lazy. I’ll try to deal as best I can with something before I’ll break my routine and try another way of dealing. It’s the way I’m wired.”

Beck picked up the bottle again. “This is not a good way to deal.”

“Maybe not,” she conceded, “but at least I can sleep at night. For a while, I could not.”

“You didn’t have problems sleeping before you left for Indiana?”

“Not really. When I first moved, it did take me a few days to get accustomed to the sounds in the new house, but for the most part, I was okay.” She thought that over for a moment. “But I’d been traveling a lot for several months. That’s why Connor suggested I move into his house.”

“Your cousin Connor?”

“Yes. Super Special Agent Connor Shields,” she stage-whispered. “We tease him about being the real international man of mystery because no one knows where he goes or what he does when he gets there.”

“You share a house with him?”

“Not really. He’s never there. That’s why he offered me the house. I was traveling a lot and rarely at my apartment, which was expensive, and he had bought this house but he wasn’t there either, so he suggested I give up my apartment and move into his house. Then I could save money and buy a house of my own.” She laughed softly and said, “No one knows how Connor found this place-it’s butt ugly, by the way, a sort of mustard yellow, stone-set-in-stucco bungalow on a forgotten road in the middle of the woods. And no one can figure out why he wanted to buy it, since he’s never around. But he bought it and he moved into it, remodeled, then promptly left the country.”

She paused, then looked at Beck and said, “You really think I’m going off the deep end, don’t you? I’m not, and I’m sorry if I’ve given you that impression. I just have trouble sleeping, that’s all.”

“I think you have a lot on your plate,” he said softly. “And I also think you might want to talk to someone professional, because if you keep doing that”-he pointed to the glass in her hand-“you’re going to have a bigger problem than not being able to sleep.”

“I know you’re right,” she said, but did not put the glass down. “And for the record, I tried sleeping pills, but they made me too groggy in the morning. I’ve tried meditation, hypnosis, acupuncture, and exercising until I can barely walk. Nothing seems to relax me except a few glasses of wine at night. I know it isn’t smart, but…” She shrugged.

“Don’t you have a headache when you get up?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t really drink that much. I mean, I don’t pass out or anything. I just drink until the voices stop and I can sleep.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, now I’ve really done it, haven’t I? Now you think I hear voices.”

She set the glass down on the grass at her feet. “The voices I hear are those of my brother Grady, my cousin Dylan. Grady’s dead wife Melissa. And when I say I hear them, it’s because I talk to them sometimes. I ask Brendan why, though he doesn’t really have an answer. I tell Dylan how much I miss him, and I tell him about Annie and he tells me it’s okay where he is. I tell Melissa how sorry I am that she and Grady didn’t get to live their life, and she tells me to take care of him and not to let him waste his life mourning for her. Does that sound crazy?”

“Actually, no, it doesn’t.”

“Did you ever talk to someone who was gone?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I have.”

“Family?”

Another nod.

“See? No one can mess you up like your family.”

“You have no idea…”

She waited to see if he’d elaborate, but he did not, and she let it pass. She started to reach for the glass again, then changed her mind and drew her hand back.

“Mia, why did you challenge him like that?”

She knew exactly which he Beck was referring to. Personal time was over. It was back to business.

“I looked around that room, at all those people, and I knew he was there. I could feel him. I could almost smell that superior attitude of his, sense the challenge he was sending out, and I had to toss it back at him.

“I knew he was in that room, and he knew I knew it,” she continued. “And he also knew I had no idea who he was and he was enjoying that a little too much. It pissed me off. The longer it takes us to figure out who he is, the more likely it is that another young woman will die. I can more than take care of myself if he comes after me. You think most of the young women in this town can say the same?”

“So you put a big target on your back?”

“We have nothing, Beck. We don’t know why he picked the women he picked, or where he met them or how he convinced them to come with him or where he keeps them. There are three crime scenes for each of these killings, and the only one we can explore is the last one, the place where he disposes of the bodies. And those scenes have yielded us exactly one big fat zero’s worth of trace. This guy is so good. He doesn’t leave a crumb.”

“So we know he wears a condom when he’s assaulting the girls and wears gloves while he’s wrapping them up.”

“Which leads us nowhere.” She sighed deeply. “He’s going to take another victim again, very soon. He’s due for another fix, that high he gets from living out his fantasy.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being part of that fantasy?” Beck lowered himself to the grass and sat down.

“No. I’m more afraid for someone else. That pretty girl who works at the ice cream place, or that cute little waitress in the sandwich shop or even Vanessa, maybe.” She pulled one leg up onto the seat and leaned forward on it. “You think your sister would hold up under that type of torture for very long?”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t hold up at all. Vanessa just doesn’t get that anyone would want to hurt her.”

“After two bad marriages?” Mia raised an eyebrow. “She is trusting.”

She hesitated, then added, “Would she be trusting of, oh, say, someone like Mickey Forbes?”

Beck looked up sharply. “Why Forbes?”

“He fits the profile, don’t you think? His mother is domineering and most likely has been all his life. Hal told me that Christina’s been focused more on building up the community than either of her marriages. Maybe that extended to her child as well. Was he neglected, do you know? Did Christina bully her husband, demean him in front of their son?” She started to refill her glass, but under Beck’s scrutiny only poured half a glass. “What do you really know about him, anyway?”

“I know he’s a jerk, but that doesn’t make him a murderer.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She put both feet on the ground and rested her forearms on her thighs, holding the glass between her knees. “Right now, we need to look at everyone as a possible killer. That’s my point. We haven’t been able to narrow the field at all, so we can’t eliminate anyone. Whoever this guy is, he’s flown under the radar for a long time.” She held up a hand to silence the protest he was about to launch. “Yes, I realize he may not have gone to this extreme in the past, but I think that when we find him, we’ll find that he’s raped before. He’s simply carrying that fantasy several steps forward.”

“If that’s true, why now?”

“Something’s set him off. Something’s changed in his life. Maybe he’s been passed over for a promotion. Maybe for someone like Mickey Forbes, for the sake of argument, it was the breakup of his marriage. I know everyone who is passed over for a promotion or who gets divorced doesn’t turn into a serial killer. I’m just saying, these can be life-changing situations.”

“So how do we smoke him out?”

“I’m still working on that.”

“Well, don’t try to fly solo on this one, okay?” He reached out and touched her arm. “I’d hate to see you become his victim.”