“Josh, there is a pattern here,” she said, pulling him aside.

He poured an avalanche of dry creamer into his cup and followed her.

“How so?”

“Sundays. All of the vics disappeared on a Sunday.”

She held out a sheet with the dates highlighted.

March 29 (Celesta)

April 26 (Marissa)

September 26 (Skye)

January 31 (Carol)

He looked interested but unconvinced. “I thought that Skye disappeared on a Saturday,” he said.

Kendall nodded. “Right. But maybe she wasn’t actually captured by the killer until Sunday. His day.”

“Are you thinking something religious here?”

“No. There’s nothing that this creep has said to anyone, left at any scene, to suggest he’s a religiously motivated killer. I’m wondering if it’s simply because it’s convenient for him to capture his vics on weekends.

“Because he’s not working.”

Kendall set down her calendar notes.

“I’ve thought that through. I’m thinking that Sunday is the day he captures them, but he really needs Mondays off. Monday is the day he gets himself together for the workweek. Since his killing has been intermittent, I’d say he doesn’t get every Monday off.”

“I hate Mondays,” Josh said.

If she was correct, Kendall knew that she could add another name to the list: Paige. She went missing on Sunday too.

Chapter Fifty-six

April 5, 4 p.m.

Key Peninsula

It was Saturday afternoon, and an Almond Joy was calling her name from the newsroom’s vending machine. Serenity Hutchins was poking around her desk for some spare change when she answered her sister’s call.

“I need you,” Melody said, in tears. “Can you come over?”

Serenity looked around. The newsroom was quiet. She was working on a background piece about Paige Wilson, the missing teenager.

“Now isn’t the best time,” she said.

“It’s about me and Max,” Melody said. “Something terrible has happened. I need you.”

Serenity stopped searching for quarters. She had never been close to her sister, but she adored Max. Melody sounded completely out of sorts.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“This isn’t the kind of thing I can talk about on the phone.”

“Well, give me an idea. I’m on deadline here.”

“I’m terrified, and I need my sister.”

The despair in Melody’s voice moved something in Serenity’s heart. She longed for a genuine connection with her sister.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Melody said.

The Castiles ’ gate had been left opened. Strange, Serenity thought, but a nice change from the usual inconvenience nevertheless. She loathed the damn gate, the faux cameras, and the motion detection lights that her brother-in-law had installed at the entrance to the property. She drove up the curving, rutted gravel driveway and parked in front of the garage.

Melody, dressed in dirty blue jeans and a cream-colored sweater, met her by her car door.

“Serenity, thanks for coming,” she said, each word an anxious gulp. “I really needed you, and you’re here.”

Serenity got out the car and embraced her sister. Melody had never been much of a hugger. Now, however, Serenity could feel her sister’s arms pulse as they wrapped around her shoulders. When she pulled back to look into Melody’s face, Serenity expected it to be wrought with emotion.

Yet Melody’s eyes were devoid of expression.

“What is it?” Serenity asked. “Where is Max?”

“He’s in the house,” Melody said. Her body was shaking and she made crying sounds, but nothing came from her eyes. Not a single teardrop.

“Where’s Sam?” Serenity looked around the yard, then turned to her sister again. “What’s going on? What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Serenity,” Melody said, “I want out of this marriage… I’m worried about Max. His father, you know, isn’t quite right.”

No argument there, but Serenity didn’t say so.

“I don’t know what to do,” Melody went on.

“You get a lawyer, that’s what you do. What happened?”

“I’ll show you,” Melody said. “Let’s go inside. I think I know what happened.”

Serenity expected her sister to lead her to the front door of the house, but instead Melody started in the direction of the mobile home.

“What’s in there?”

“I think that’s where it happened to him. I think Max was abused.”

Serenity felt her pulse quicken as they went down the moist dirt pathway through a stand of black bamboo.

“Oh, God! Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure. But I think you can help.”

“I’ll do what I can, of course.”

They walked down the moist dirt pathway.

Melody put her hand on Serenity’s shoulder, pushing gently as they went up the steps. “I found something. I’ll show you.” She opened the Fun House door so Serenity could go inside ahead of her. The interior was dark. Serenity noticed right away that the front windows had been covered with aluminum foil.

“I saw this done once in a pot-growing operation in Kingston,” she said.

A hand reached from the darkness and pressed a smelly cloth over her nose and mouth.

Chapter Fifty-seven

April 6, 9:50 a.m.

Port Orchard

Kendall Stark hung up the phone and turned to Josh Anderson. He’d assumed it was a media call into the Sheriff’s Office about the possibility of the Kitsap Cutter’s fifth victim, Paige Wilson. Kendall had used words like “off covering the beat” and “big story that needs care.”

She looked hard at him. “That was Charlie Keller,” she said. “He’s worried about your girlfriend.”

“What about her?” Josh asked, popping a starlight peppermint into his mouth.

“Says she didn’t show up for work this a.m. He even went to her apartment. No one’s there.”

He crunched the candy. “She’s a big girl.”

“When did you see her last?”

“I don’t know. Saturday morning, I guess. Hey, we’re not exclusive.”

Kendall shook her head. “Not that you seem to care, but I’m guessing that she’d rather be dead than have her editor write ‘Is Paige Wilson Victim Five?’”

“You’re right about that,” he said. “She’s all about the big story.”

“Keller says she said something about going out to her sister’s place.”

“Her sister is a piece of work. Good. Glad to know that she’s helping her.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“ Kendall, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that a woman who links all of our victims has gone AWOL. I’m guessing, Josh, you’d care more about her if you hadn’t slept with her.”

Josh’s face went a reddish shade. Kendall ’s words had stung. “I care,” he said. “We had a bit of an argument on Friday. I just figured she was cooling off over the weekend.”

The little boy with the dark, knowing eyes watched quietly as other children in the classroom took out well-worn crayons and started to follow the instructions of Sally Marshall, their teacher. Inside, he seethed.

“I want you to think about your favorite things,” she said.

“Like our dog?” another boy asked.

No one who saw Ms. Marshall would think she was anything but an elementary school teacher. A plain brunette, she never failed to wear the kind of cutesy attire that would appeal to small children. That Monday morning she wore a pair of iron-creased jeans, a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a vest with an appliquéd tic-tac-toe board. The X’s and O’s were attached with Velcro.

“A picture of your puppy would be wonderful, Patrick, but how about a picture of your dog and you together?”

“I’m not a good drawer of people,” he said.

“Do your best. That’s what we all should do.” She hovered over a few of the kids before moving to the next row. The kids up front-Patrick, Jared, Ashton, Sonata, Mimi, and Gabrielle-were her favorites, and the other kids knew it.