“There’s no reason why it can’t be.”

“I hope my boss thinks so, too.”

“How does your husband feel about you being a cop?”

“I think secretly he’d be happier if I stayed home all the time and catered to him and the kids.” She lowered her voice and added, “But what man doesn’t, right? Todd’s pretty cool about me being with the department, though he’d probably rather I had a nine to five. I think he liked it better when I was on the dispatcher’s desk. The hours were more regular, but all in all, he’s fine with it. We’ve adjusted.”

“You are one lucky woman, you know that?”

“Luckier than anyone deserves to be.”

Mia’s phone rang and she reached for it.

“And one of these days you’ll have to share with me the secret of how to get and keep it all.”

“Anytime.” Lisa waved and left Mia to take her call.

An hour later, Mia was back in Beck’s office with a stack of faxed reports from Miranda Cahill, one of the agents assigned to track the 2000 and 2001 victims.

“Miranda says she can’t find a listing for the victim in the city or any of the suburbs but she’s still looking. She did speak with the investigating officer who sent her a copy of their electronic file. According to the statement the vic gave at the time, she and her friends were in the bar, there was a large group there and they were all milling around, dancing with some of the guys, that sort of thing. The guy she’d been dancing with-said his name was Jake-bought her a beer. Said the guy was really nice, polite, not pushy or anything, so when he suggested they take the beers outside so they could cool off, she didn’t think twice. They left the bar through the rear door, opens onto the back of the parking lot. Said it was almost two, almost closing time, so there were fewer cars in the lot. Said one minute they were talking, the next minute, he had a knife to her throat and was shoving her into a car.”

“So much for Mr. Nice Guy,” Beck muttered.

“No fooling. Kept the knife to her throat the entire time he was raping her. The cop said she was real reluctant to go into detail about everything he’d done to her, so it must have been really bad.”

“He get a description?”

“Late twenties, dark hair. Average height and weight. The cops said if they picked up every guy who fit that description, there’d be no one left on the beach.” She shrugged. “Not much to go on. We’re hoping Miranda can track down the victim and get a little more than that.”

“And the other ones?”

“The victim from Columbus was contacted and she refused to discuss it. Said she spent a long time in therapy to put it behind her and absolutely was not going there again. Threatened legal action if anyone else called her. The third woman recently moved to Atlanta. Miranda is supposed to be meeting with her tomorrow. If her memory’s good, we’ll get a sketch artist out there as soon as we can.”

“Great. Let me know what you hear.”

“Will do.”

“What do you think he’ll do next?” Beck asked.

“Something to shake us up, turn up the heat,” she replied without thinking. “Something to remind us that he’s in control here, not us.”

“Another ballsy statement.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Shit.” He rubbed a hand over his chin.

“My thoughts exactly…”

She turned to leave and saw Garland walking toward her with a package.

“Agent Shields, this was just delivered for you.”

“Terrific, thanks, Garland.” She took the package and held it up to Beck. “This must be the tape from JoJo.”

He took a tape player out of his desk drawer and handed it to her.

“Let’s see what’s on it.”

Mia plugged in the machine and slipped the tape inside, then pushed play. The static was thick initially, then some background noise could be heard. Then, a voice, pleading.

“Please don’t hurt me anymore. Please don’t…”

“It’s almost over, Holly.” The distorted voice said in a soothing tone. “Just a…”

The tape went silent, then they heard, “…don’t want to die…”

“We don’t…” silent…“we want, Hol…”

Another silent stretch, then, “Say good-bye, Holly. Tell them good-bye…”

“Mommy…Daddy…Eric…” the voice began to sob. “I love you…”

“Very nice, Hol…” The next section was garbled, then the static returned. Mia let the tape run out.

“Well, we know for sure it was Holly Sheridan,” Mia told Beck after she turned off the machine.

“We already knew that.” He stared out the window for a long time. Without turning around, he said, “Do we have to let them hear the tape? The Sheridans?”

“No. I don’t know if it wouldn’t hurt more.” She thought it over. “Then again, if we catch him and he goes to trial, they’ll hear it.”

“If we catch him?” He turned back to her, his blue eyes narrowed and darkened. “Are you losing faith, Agent Shields?”

“My mistake. When we catch him…” She rose from her chair. “Let’s just hope that happens before he makes that next bold move. Otherwise, we both know that someone else is likely to die…”

19

The mist rising from the marsh had settled a few feet above ground, but Hal knew as he walked along the edge of the field that by the time he reached the marina, it would be gone, burned off by the hot July sun. Which was fine with him. Hal had no problem with the heat.

For a man in his sixties, he was in fine shape, healthy and strong and no infirmities to speak of beyond the usual. A little arthritis here and a little there. Thinning hair. But for a man his age, he was in remarkable shape.

Still strong as a bull, he liked to say.

He’d retired reluctantly, but knew it was for the best. It was time to pass the office on to someone younger, someone better trained in all the latest law enforcement techniques, someone up on all the newest technology. Someone who could keep the police department in step with all the other changes that were taking place in St. Dennis.

Someone like Gabriel Beck.

Hal whistled as he walked down the stone steps toward the slip where the Shady Lady was tied. Beck had done just fine. And he, Hal, couldn’t congratulate himself enough on having had the foresight to track Beck down and talk him into coming back to St. Dennis and taking the job.

A gull swooped over his head and dove toward the water where some chum had been tossed overboard by a fisherman already on his way back into the marina.

“Calling it a day, John?” Hal called to the skipper who was backing his cruiser into its slip.

“Out since four and not a nibble. God’s way of telling me to get back to work.” The man waved as Hal passed by.

Hal chuckled and continued on down the wooden walk to where his boat was tied. He didn’t really care if the fish were biting or not. Fishing was just euphemism for lazing on the bay on a day off, as far as he was concerned.

The new blue tarp covered the deck and the ropes were taut against the tide. Hal climbed aboard his craft and began to unfastened the tarp. He’d bought it just days earlier at Singer’s and had spent an hour before last night’s meeting fitting it. He’d been pleased to find it fit like a glove, just as Todd had promised.

That boy did know boats.

Hal had removed half of the tarp before he saw the thing on the deck. It took him several long minutes to react.

“Holy Mother of God.” He backed away in horror. “Holy Mother of God…”

The body wrapped mummy-style in plastic was in even worse shape than Holly Sheridan’s had been, but the killer had added a little something extra to make identification easier. He’d placed the victim’s driver’s license inside a plastic sandwich bag along with the tape.

“Considerate bastard.” Beck leaned over the body and studied the photo ID through the layers of plastic wrap. “You think there’s any reason to doubt this is in fact Mindy Kenneher?”