“What’s your specialty, agent?” Milton asked.

“Forensic psychology, Detective.”

“Profiler.”

“Psychological profiles based on forensics,” she corrected. She almost spoke the rest of the thought: That’s why they put the wordforensics in there, for those who grew up in Backwater, Louisiana.

“Fair enough. But I don’t want you talking to the media.”

“I wouldn’t think of robbing you of all that airtime, sir.”

“I think we have an understanding.”

“Good. I reviewed your file as of an hour ago.” She looked at Nancy. “You do quick work.”

“We try,” Nancy said. “You might want to take a look at it again. We found a timer.”

“Preset?”

“No. A receiver set the timer off, but from what I can gather, there was no way to terminate the timer once it was engaged.”

Jennifer glanced at Milton. “So whoever did this had no intention of terminating the detonation, regardless of his threat.”

“So it seems.”

“Anything else?”

Milton stood and turned to the blinds behind his chair. He parted them and looked down at the street. “So what does your crystal ball tell you on this one, Agent Peters?”

“It’s early.”

“Humor me.”

They were undoubtedly thinking Riddle Killer, but she went with a conservative analysis.

“Best guess, we have a white male who is extremely angry, but not angry enough to compromise his precision or method. He’s smart. And he knows it. He knew what kind of bomb to build, how to place it, how to detonate without detection. In fact, he knew that Mr. Parson would escape unharmed, and he knew that his riddle would go unsolved. That’s why he didn’t bother wasting resources on a termination switch.”

“Random victim?” Nancy asked.

“Nothing with this guy is random. If the victim isn’t a past acquaintance, then he was selected for specific reasons. His profession, his habits, the way he combs his hair.”

“Which is why Parson’s insistence that he doesn’t know anyone who might hold a grudge doesn’t add up,” Milton said.

“Not necessarily. You’re a cop who can list a hundred people who would take your head off, given the opportunity. The average citizen doesn’t have those kinds of enemies. We’re dealing with someone who’s probably insane—a sideways look on a train could mark you as his next target.” She paused. “That’s what I would say based solely on what you’ve given me. But as it turns out, I have more.”

“Riddle Killer,” Nancy said.

Jennifer looked at her and wondered if she knew about Roy. “Yes. Same MO. The last killing we’ve attributed to this guy was three months ago in Sacramento, but from every indication, we’re dealing with the same man.”

“He used riddles, but did he ever notkill a victim?” Milton asked.

“You’re right; this one’s different. All five of his victims were given one riddle and then killed when they failed to solve it. Which means he’s not finished with Kevin Parson. He didn’t just blow up a car without hurting anyone for the fun of it. He’s stretching himself. He’s bored. He wants a new challenge. Stringing together multiple riddles is the logical progression, but it also takes more time. He would have to study his mark well enough to sustain continued threats. That means lots of surveillance over many days. It’s one thing to pull off one stunt. This guy’s planning on doing this again. That kind of planning takes time. Could explain why the Riddle Killer has been so quiet over the last three months.”

“This guy gave a name,” Bransford said. “Slater. The Riddle Killer remained nameless.”

“Again. A progression, in my opinion.” Jennifer pulled a thick file from her briefcase and set it on the desk. The tab had two capital letters on it: R. K.

“Don’t let the size fool you; we don’t know as much as you might think. There’s a lot of psychological profile data in here. When it comes to evidence, this guy’s as clean as they come. None of the bodies was abused in any way. The first four were asphyxiated; the last was killed with a bomb. All four asphyxiated bodies were reported to the police by the killer himself and left on park benches. For all practical purposes they were evidence-free. This killer finds satisfaction in the game more than the actual killing. The killing is only a prop, something that provides stakes high enough to make the game interesting.”

She put her hand on the file. The green edges were worn white from use, mostly her own. She could practically recite the contents, all 234 pages. A full half of the writing was hers.

“A copy of the file is being reproduced for each of you as we speak. I’ll be happy to answer any questions once you’ve had a chance to review it. Has there been any additional contact with the victim?”

“Not today,” Milton said. “We have a team on the way to sweep his house. He found some bugs. More accurately, a friend of his found six of them throughout the house. A Samantha Sheer called us this morning. She’s connected with the attorney general’s office. Just happened to be with him last night and did us a favor. Do you know what falls but never breaks? What breaks but never falls?”

“No.”

He grinned disingenuously. “Night and day.”

“She gave you that?”

He nodded. “Pretty smart. On the other hand, there are too many fingers in this pot already, and the case is less than a day old.”

“The case is a year old,” Jennifer said. “She met with him without your knowing? You’re not watching the house?”

He hesitated. “Not yet. Like I said—”

“You left him alone overnight?” Jennifer felt her face flush with anger. Easy, girl.

Milton’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Who do you think we’re dealing with here, a cub scout? Do you even know if Parson’s still alive?”

“We are under no standing threat,” Milton said. “There is no direct evidence that this is the Riddle Killer. Kevin insisted he was—”

“The victim’s in no position to know what’s best for himself.” Jennifer unfolded her legs and stood. “As soon as I get back, I’d like to get a firsthand look at the evidence, if you don’t mind, Nancy.”

“Of course.”

“Where are you going?” Milton asked.

“To see Parson. As far as we know, he’s the only living victim of the Riddle Killer. Our first job is to keep him that way. I’d like to spend a few minutes with him before your people start tearing up his house. An associate of mine, Bill Galager, will be here shortly. Please treat him with the same graciousness you’ve extended to me.”

Jennifer left the station and sped for Kevin Parson’s house, knowing that she had walked a thin line back in the conference room. Or maybe she was being too self-conscious about her cooperation because of the bureau chief’s concerns. All things considered, except for the mistake of leaving the victim unguarded, Milton had handled the case well enough thus far. But one mistake and they would have another dead body on their hands. She wasn’t in a position to accept that. Not this time.

Not after she’d led the Riddle Killer to Roy.

Why is that, Jenn? Kevin Parson is a victim, deserving life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness like every other potential victim, but no more.That was the objective view of her situation.

But, no matter what face she tried to put on the matter, the bureau chief had pegged her. She hadlost just a bit of objectivity, hadn’t she? Regardless of Kevin Parson’s makeup, he was now special. Perhaps more special to Jennifer than any other person in any other case, save her brother. He could be a total fool with a habit of running down the 405 freeway naked, and that much wouldn’t change.

Fact was, in some small way, Kevin Parson offered her a glimpse of redemption. If Roy had died because of her, maybe Kevin would live because of her.

Becauseof her. She had to personallysave him, didn’t she? An eye for an eye. A life for a life.