SERIAL KILLER STALKING KITSAP?

The story with Serenity Hutchins’ byline ran at the top of the front page and featured two photographs. The first appeared to be Skye Hornbeck’s high school photograph; the other was one of the images that Tulio Pena had provided for the feature story that ran after his girlfriend, Celesta, was reported missing.

“She makes a reasonable case that the two are connected,” Steven said.

“Oh, she does, does she?”

“I’m just saying,” Steven said, taking a seat at the table.

Kendall started to read while the pancake on the griddle began to burn. Serenity noted how the women were of approximately the same age, on the petite side, and both wore their hair long.

“She’s describing half the county,” Kendall said, looking up at Steven. “I thought that was a stretch. But that’s not where she won me over.”

Kendall read on as the Lighthouse reporter indicated that the fact that both dead women had been butchered in too similar a fashion to ignore. She’d interviewed a profiler who lived on the Internet and offered no real credentials but was always handy with a quote. The article concluded with an over-the-top line that made Kendall wince and her husband laugh.

“Boston had its Strangler. New York had Son of Sam. Are we being plagued by the Kitsap Cutter?”

Steven got up from his chair and flipped the burning pancake.

“She’s trying to sell some papers,” he said. “Nothing more, I’d wager.”

Kendall put the Lighthouse on the counter and squeezed some syrup on Cody’s short stack.

“Only one problem, honey,” she said, hesitating a little. “We’ve never released the extent of Skye’s injuries.”

“Wasn’t she there when the body was pulled from the water?”

She put the plate in front of her son and watched for a second.

“Want Mommy to feed you?” she asked. Sometimes Cody didn’t want any help. This, it turned out, was one of those mornings. He took the fork and started to eat. Kendall looked back at Steven, who was flipping another pancake.

“What was the problem, Kendall?” Steven asked, obviously curious.

“Serenity was there at the crime scene, but she couldn’t have seen what Dr. Waterman and I observed during the autopsy. We’ve never released the information about the cuts to her breasts.”

“Then how did she know that?” he asked.

Kendall set down her coffee. “That’s what I’d like to find out.”

Kendall Stark shut her car door with so much force, she actually slammed it. Josh Anderson, snuffing out a cigarette in the parking lot of the Sheriff’s Office, winced from twenty yards away. His startled look was the only good thing that had happened since her husband pointed out the lead article in the newspaper.

“Did you tell her about Skye Hornbeck’s wounds?”

Josh looked as blank as he could. “Tell who?” he asked.

Kendall crossed her arms and stared at him. She kept her voice calm, but there was no mistaking how she felt. “Don’t bullshit me, Josh. Did you tell Serenity Hutchins about the condition of Skye’s body?”

He shook his head. “No. Why would I?”

“Because you think she’s hot for you. Or something like that. The older you get, the more stupid you get.”

Josh took a step back. He’d never seen Kendall so heated.

“Look, I never told anyone about that,” he said.

She jabbed a finger at him. “Like I’m going to believe you? Look, I know you’ve been seeing her. What is she, twenty-one?”

“No. I don’t know. I haven’t told her anything.”

Kendall knew that her face was red, but she didn’t care.

“We look really stupid, you know.”

“Is that what this is about? Looking stupid, Kendall?”

Kendall turned to go inside. He was partially right, of course.

“Don’t even go there,” she said. “If we have a serial killer, then we have bigger worries than anyone’s ego. That includes yours and mine.”

Josh followed her inside, but Kendall was too angry to say anything more to him. When they found their offices, she shut the door. A blinking red light on her phone indicated a message. She dialed the code for her voice mail.

The voice was familiar.

“Detective Stark, is it true? Did this Kitsap Cutter kill Celesta?”

It was Tulio Pena. His voice was in shards.

Kendall felt a kind of sickness wash over her. It was the feeling that came from letting down someone who had depended on her. She could blame Josh for leaking information to Serenity. She could even blame him for insisting that Celesta’s murder had been the result of a turf battle over floral greens. She could even tell herself just then that she had done the best she could.

But that was a lie.

“I want you to call me,” he said. “I want you to tell me that you are still trying to find who killed Celesta.”

Kendall hung up and drew a deep breath. She dialed Tulio’s number. Her heart was heavier than the anchor her father had used to lock their boat into a fishing spot on the east side of Blake Island when she was a girl.

“I’m so sorry,” she began, “that you had to read that in the paper…”

As she spoke to Tulio, she had no idea that things were about to get worse.

Margo Titus had done her job and the outcome was what she’d prayed for: an identity revealed. She put away the files that she’d accumulated on the case. It was always a great relief to store the bits and pieces she’d used to help find out who was who. While the vacant-eyed Janes looked on, Margo’s eyes landed on the autopsy photo. For the first time she noticed a series of very faint red impressions on the victim’s neck.

Skye Hornbeck’s neck, she corrected her thoughts.

She dialed Kendall’s cell number.

“I was just thinking of you, Margo,” Kendall said. “I meant to call. I’m guessing you heard the news.”

“It isn’t about that. They don’t always end this way. I’m glad that this one worked out.”

“Me too.”

They talked about the case, the cause of death, the fact that Kendall had been in touch with Skye’s father.

“I don’t know if it is anything,” Margo finally said. “I was looking at the photos, and I noticed marks on her neck. I don’t know if you have a serial up there or a onetime psychopath, but he might have taken a trophy.”

Kendall, pulled the photos and began flipping through them. “A necklace?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Her father mentioned one.”

“If the killer took it, he took it without unclasping it.”

Kendall saw the series of faint red marks in one of the autopsy photos.

“I see it.”

“Of course, I could be wrong. But I worked a case in Red Bluff where the perp kept all his vics’ brassieres in a laundry bag under his bed. One in Oklahoma City kept his vics’ earrings.”

Kendall Stark stood in line behind the other county workers looking for their caffeine buzz. She’d had a restless night with Cody and the case. The press accounts fueled by Serenity Hutchins hadn’t helped, either. She wasn’t sure right then what was weighing most heavily on her mind. Her son didn’t-or couldn’t-use words to indicate that the Inverness School had been a stunning disappointment for him too. It was hard to gauge a shift in his awareness. At times, he showed no emotion whatsoever.

Kendall, who didn’t favor a foundation for her makeup, applied some concealer under her eyes. Her hair was in need of a cut or a double-dose of hair product. She didn’t look good, and she didn’t need anyone to tell her so. What she needed was that mocha.

She felt an abrupt peck on her shoulder, and she turned around. It was Serenity Hutchins.

“I know you don’t think much of me,” Serenity said.

Kendall let out a sigh and knew she’d lost her place in line. There was no way they were going to have that conversation right there. She indicated for Serenity to follow her to a table by a large window filled with the view of the inlet. They sat facing each other.