“Sure…”

Mia drove, Beck’s Jeep still being impounded. He’d been meaning to call for a rental, but kept forgetting.

On their way out of town, Beck said, “By the way, I had a chance to go over the cell phone records for both Mindy and Colleen.”

“I take it there was nothing of any great use.” Her eyes shifted from the road to him and back to the road. “Assuming you’d have told me if there had been.”

“A few calls to a number that turned out to be…”

“Let me guess…untraceable.”

“Right. Damn those prepaid phones.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less from this guy. He’s certainly not stupid enough to call his victims from his home or work phone. Though that would have been nice.”

She turned onto the highway. “You’re going to have to tell me which way to go here.”

“Straight, then make a right at the second light into the shopping center, maybe a mile down the road.”

“How about the victims’ computers?”

“Nothing. I had hoped we’d find there was some Realtor’s website that one or both of them had visited, but there was nothing like that, and nothing out of the ordinary. No e-mails from a Realtor-legit or otherwise-or from any of the same contacts. Nothing that rang any bells whatsoever.”

He pointed up ahead. “The shopping center is at the next light.”

She put on her turn signal and pulled into the parking lot.

“Stay to the left,” he told her. “The gym is the last building.”

“I see it.” Mia drove around and parked in one of the spaces right out front. She got out of the car and glanced to her right.

“Is that Mickey Forbes’s sporting goods store?” she asked.

He nodded and pointed to the gym.

“First things first,” he said.

“I was just wondering if he was working today, if he’d seen Lisa.” Mia followed Beck through the automatic doors leading into the gym. “He splits his time between here and the car dealership, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t know when he’s where.” Beck walked up to the reception desk. “I’m Chief Beck.”

The young woman behind the desk looked from Beck to Mia. “Can I help you with something?”

“One of my officers was planning on stopping out here today. I had someone call as a follow-up a little while ago. He was told she’d been here.”

“Sergeant Singer.” The girl nodded. “She was in a few hours ago.”

“Do you know if she spoke with anyone here?”

“She spoke with me. She had pictures of those women who were killed, the two who weren’t members but who worked out here sometimes,” the receptionist told him in a hushed voice, as if almost afraid to speak of the dead.

“You recognized them?” Mia asked.

“Sure. The older one, the one who worked at Sinclair’s Cove? She used to come in and only use the treadmill. Never did anything else. The other girl, the one from Cameron, Mindy? She came in a few times, she tried everything a few times before asking for a form to apply for membership. She never did bring it back, though.”

“Did you ever see either of them together?”

“No.”

“Did you know Colleen Preston?”

“Sure.” Her face grew sad. “Everyone knew Colleen. She was real friendly. No one could believe what happened to her. It just made us all sick.”

“Did you ever see her with either of the other two girls? Or with anyone? Any of them work with one of the personal trainers?”

“No. Sergeant Singer asked the same thing. I never saw Colleen with anyone. She just came in after work, did her thing, then left. The other two were just sort of sporadic.”

“Did you notice what time Sergeant Singer left?”

“Sometime this morning, but no, I didn’t notice the time.”

“I guess you didn’t see her leave the parking lot?” Mia asked.

“No, but you could ask over at The Coffee Counter.” Karen pointed out the door. “She said she was going to stop there.”

“Thanks,” Beck said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“It’s so horrible, what he did to those girls.” A frightened look came over the young girl’s face. “Do you think you’ll catch him soon?”

“We’re doing our best,” Beck told her.

“Me and my friends, we’re scared to go out at night,” Karen confided.

“Good,” Beck told her. “If you’re not scared, you won’t be cautious. And being cautious could mean the difference between…”

The girl’s eyes widened.

“What he means is, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Stick with your friends and stay together if you go anyplace,” Mia told her, and nudged Beck toward the door. “Thanks again. You’ve been very helpful.”

Once outside, Mia asked, “What were you trying to do, scare the living shit out of her?”

“Yes. She should be scared.”

“But not paralyzed with fear.” Mia pointed up ahead. “There’s The Coffee Counter. Maybe we’ll find Lisa at some small table, knee-deep in an interview and strung out on caffeine and donuts.”

“With luck.” He pushed the door open and held it for her to follow him inside.

The shop was small, with a long counter lined with a dozen stools, a second smaller counter where orders were given and filled, and yet another long counter with more stools. There were two tables for four, and two tables for two near the front windows. A glass case held a variety of scones, donuts, and croissants. A middle-aged man stepped from behind the counter and waved to Beck.

“Chief, how’s it going?” He greeted Beck, and nodded in Mia’s direction.

“Not so good, Steve.”

“Yeah, I gathered.” The man nodded.

“Steve, you see Sergeant Singer today?”

“She was in earlier. Asking about those girls who got killed and wrapped up.” He shook his head. “That’s some bad business, Chief.”

“The worst. Listen, did you notice what time she left the shopping center?”

“No, sorry. We were talking about those girls for a while-they’d all been in here, one time or another. She had a bunch of questions, you know, did I remember them, did I ever see them with anyone, or talking with anyone, that sort of thing.”

“What did you tell her?” Mia asked.

“I said I never really noticed who they were with. I mean, the way we’re set up here, people are always talking to one another, and half the town is in here at one point or another on any given day. One of the reasons I set it up like this, nice way for folks to meet, you know? Sort of encourages conversation. People sit next to strangers, you never know who you’re going to meet.”

Mia and Beck exchanged a long look.

“Thanks, Steve.” Beck started toward the door.

“You might stop over at the Goal Post and see what time she left there,” Steve called to him.

Beck turned around and asked, “The Goal Post?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “I told her that one of those girls-the little blond one, the girl from Cameron-had a big bag of stuff with her one time. I asked her if she wanted me to put it behind the counter while she had her coffee, the place was real crowded, and the shopping bag didn’t fit under the stool. She handed it over to me and I put it on the floor, right back there.” He pointed to the far counter. “I saw the name on the bag. The Goal Post. So when the sarge asked me about the girls, I told her she might want to try over there. See if anyone remembers her.”

“Thanks a lot, Steve, you’ve been a big help.” Beck pushed the door open and stepped outside. When Mia joined him on the sidewalk, he said, “Funny, I don’t remember Mickey mentioning that one of the victims was a customer of his.”

“He may not have known.” Mia hurried to catch up with him. “He may not have been in the store when Mindy was doing her shopping.”

“You’d think the clerk who waited on her would have remembered and would have mentioned it to him, and that he’d have mentioned it to me.” They reached the sporting goods store. “Let’s see what he has to say about it…”

They entered the store and went straight to the back. A young sales person in a white polo shirt and black soccer shorts approached them.