He slid out of bed, tiptoed to the door, eased it open. Someone was opening the sliding glass door to the back lawn! Just ask who it is, Kevin. It’s the FBI, that’s all.

But what if it wasn’t?

“Hello?”

Nothing.

“Is anyone here?” he called, louder this time.

Silence.

Kevin descended the stairs and stepped cautiously into the living room. He ran over to the window and peered out. The familiar Lincoln was parked half a block down the street.

Something was wrong. Something had happened. He walked to his kitchen phone and instinctively felt for the cell phone in his right pocket. Still there. But something wasn’t right. What?

The cell phone suddenly vibrated against his leg and he jumped. He shoved his hand back into the pocket and pulled out the silver phone. The other phone, the larger VTech, was in his left hand. For a moment he stared at them, confused. Did I pick that up? So many phones, his mind was playing tricks on him.

The cell vibrated madly. Answer it!

“Hello?”

Slater’s voice ground in his ear. “Who thinks he’s a butterfly but is really a worm?”

Kevin’s breathing smothered the phone.

“You’re pathetic, Kevin. Do you have knowledge of this obvious fact yet, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?” Slater breathed heavily. “I have someone here who wants to hold you and for the life of me I can’t understand why.”

Blood flushed Kevin’s face. His throat felt as though it was locked in a vise. He couldn’t speak.

“How long do you expect me to play tiddlywinks, Kevin? You’re obviously too dense for the riddles, so I’ve decided to up the ante. I know how conflicted you are about Mommy, but by now I have it under reliable advisement that you aren’t so conflicted about me. In fact, you hate me, don’t you, Kevin? You should—I’ve destroyed your life.”

“Stop it!” Kevin screamed.

“Stop it? Stop it? That’s all you can manage? You’re the only one with the power to stop anything. But I don’t think you have the guts. You’re as yellow as the rest of them; you’ve made that abundantly clear. So here’s the new deal, Kevin. Youcome and stop me. Face to face, man to man. This is your big chance to blow away Slater with that peashooter you obtained illegally. Find me.”

“Face me, you coward! Come out and face me!” Kevin shouted.

“Coward? I’m petrified. I can hardly move, much less face you.” Pause. “Do I have to chisel it on your forehead? You find me!Find me, find me! The game ends in six hours, Kevin. Then I kill her. You fess up or I slit her throat. Are we properly motivated now?”

The detail about the six hours hardly registered. Slater wanted to meet him. Kevin shifted on his feet. He actually wanted to meet him. But where?

“How?”

“You know how. It’s dark down here. Alone, Kevin. All alone, the way it was meant to be.”

Click.

For an endless moment Kevin stood glued to the linoleum. Blood throbbed through his temples. The black VTech phone trembled in his left hand. He roared and slammed it on the counter with all of his strength. Black plastic splintered and scattered.

Kevin shoved the cell phone in his pocket, whirled around, and flew up the stairs. He’d hidden the gun under his mattress. Three bullets left. Two days earlier the thought of going after Slater would have terrified him; now he was consumed with the idea.

It’s dark down here.

He shoved his hand under the mattress, pulled out the gun, and crammed it behind his belt. Dark. Down. I’ve got a few ideas about dark and down, don’t I? Where the worms hide their nasty little secrets. He knew, he knew!Why hadn’t he thought of this earlier? He had to get out unseen and he had to go alone. This was now between him and Slater. One on one, man on man.

The FBI car was still somewhere down the street. Kevin ran out the back and sprinted east, the opposite way. One block and then he cut south. They would know that he’d left. In fact, they would have recorded Slater’s last call to him through the home surveillance. What if they came after him? He had to tell Jennifer to stay away. He could use the cell phone, but the call would have to be short, or they would triangulate his position.

If darkand downwas where he thought it might be . . . Kevin ground his teeth and grunted. The man was a pervert. And he would kill Balinda—empty threats weren’t part of his character.

What if the FBI sent out helicopters? He turned west and hugged a line of trees by the sidewalk. The gun jutted into his back.

He started to jog.

“Now! I need some facts now, not in ten minutes,” Jennifer snapped.

Reports normally came in from Quantico at intervals established by the agents in charge. The next report window was in ten minutes, Galager had explained.

“I’ll call, but they’ve only had the evidence for a few hours. This stuff can take up to a week.”

“We don’t have a week! Do they know what’s happening down here? Tell them to turn on the television, for heaven’s sake!”

Galager dipped his head and left.

Her world had collapsed with the call from Sam two minutes ago. She still didn’t want to accept the possibility that Kevin could have blown up the bus or the library.

From her corner station Jennifer could see the exit across a sea of desks. Milton barged out of his office, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door. Where was he going? He paused, glancing back, and Jennifer instinctively turned her head to avoid eye contact. When she glanced back, he was gone. An inexplicable rage flashed through her mind. But really none of this was Milton’s fault. He was simply doing his job. Sure he liked the cameras, but he arguably had a responsibility to the public. She was directing her frustration and anger at him without appropriate cause—she knew this but it didn’t seem to calm her.

It wasn’t Kevin, she reminded herself. Even if Kevin was Slater, which hasn’t been established, the Kevin she knew wouldn’t blow anything up. A jury would take one look at his past and agree. If Slater was Kevin, then he was part of a fractured personality, not Kevin himself.

A thought smacked her and she stopped. Could Slater be framing Kevin? What better way to drag the man down than to frame him as the lunatic who tried to blow up Long Beach? She sat behind the desk, grabbed a legal pad, and penciled it out.

Slater is the boy; he wants revenge. He terrorizes Kevin and then convinces the world that he is Kevin, terrorizing himself because he is Slater. Kevin is ruined and Slater escapes. It would raise the bar for perfect crimes.

But how could Slater pull that off? Sam had found twophones. Why would Kevin be carrying around two phones without knowing it? And how could the numbers that Slater called be on that second phone? An electronic relay that duplicated the numbers to make it look like the phone had been used. Possible. And how could Slater have placed the phone in Kevin’s pocket without Kevin’s knowledge? It would have had to be while Kevin slept, this morning. Who had access to Kevin . . .

Her phone rang and she snatched it up without thinking.

“Jennifer.”

“It’s Claude, surveillance. We have a situation at the house. Someone just called Kevin.”

“Who?” Jennifer stood, knocking her chair back.

Static. “Slater. We’re pretty sure. But that’s not all.”

“Hold on. You have the recording from Kevin’s cell phone?”

“No, we have a recording from inside the house. Someone who sounded like Slater called Kevin from insideKevin’s house. I . . . uh, I know it sounds strange, but we have both voices inside the house. I’m sending the recording down now. He threatened to kill the woman in six hours and suggested that Kevin meet him.”

“Did he say where?”