'Ifthis is all coming down to Christa-Marie, there must be a connection.'

    'Shecan't be a target, though. She was convicted of murder. She didn't get awaywith anything, not like the other victims.'

    'Unlessthere's something we don't know about,' Jessica said.

    'I'mscared that I made a mistake,' Byrne had said.

    Jessicatook out her phone again. She called a man named Gary Peters, a friend of herswho worked the city desk at the Inquirer. They got their pleasantriesquickly out of the way.

    'Whatdo you need?'

    'Ineed you to check something for me.'

    'Shoot.'

    'Ineed you to look up an obituary,' Jessica said. 'It would be in November 1990.'

    'What'sthe name?'

    'GabrielThorne.'

    'Okay,'Peters said. 'What am I looking for?'

    'Ijust need the notice.'

    'Gotit,' he said. 'Do you want me to fax it to you?'

    'Canyou email it to me?'

    'Nota problem.'

    Jessicagave him her email address. 'ASAP, okay?'

    'Onthe case, detective.'

    Twominutes later Jessica's phone dinged with the arrival of the email. She tappedit, opened it. It was a .pdf file from the Philadelphia Inquirer.

    ProminentPsychiatrist Dead at 58.

    Jessicaquickly skimmed the obituary, soon finding what she was looking for.

    '"Serviceswill be held at St. Stanislaus, followed by interment at the Briarcliff Cemetery,'"she read out.

    'Doesit have an address?' Bontrager asked.

    Jessicahad to enlarge the image. Her eyes scanned the file. 'Here it is. It's at 122Sawmill Road.'

    Theylooked at each other. 'Any ideas where that is?' Bontrager asked.

    'No,'Jessica said. 'Hang on.'

    Shetapped over to her Google Maps app, put in the address. Soon a map appearedwith a big red push pin at the center.

    'Ohhello.'

    'Whereis it?' Bontrager asked.

    BriarcliffCemetery was a small suburban graveyard that abutted a number of large estates.One of them belonged to Christa-Marie Schönburg.

    Theyturned onto Sawmill Road. The darkness was complete. A fine mist coated theground; the headlights barely cut through the miasma. The road was serpentine,and more than once Jessica had to slow the car to a crawl. According to the GPSthe back entrance to Briarwood Cemetery was approximately a mile ahead.

    Theytook a slow bend to the right.

    'Stop!'Bontrager yelled.

    Jessicahit the brakes. 'What is it?'

    'Backup.'

    Jessicaput the car in reverse. She backed up slowly for fifty feet or so. As she did,she saw what had caught Josh's eye. On the right side of the road were tiretracks cutting through the high grass, leading into the woods. A pair of smalltrees had been recently knocked over and splintered. Jessica angled the car sothe headlights shone into the forest. There, about twenty feet in, was avehicle, its motor still running. The lights were off but they could see warmexhaust spilling into the cold night air.

    Jessicalooked over at Bontrager. They drew their weapons, exited the car, walked downthe culvert, up the other side. As they stepped closer to the vehicle Jessicasaw more of it. It was a van.

    A familiarvan.

Chapter 87

    LucyDoucette remembered a time when she was about four or five. Her mother hadworked for a few months at a Dollar General and the money had flowed in. Theywere rich. That Thanksgiving they had a Jennie-O turkey breast, gravy, HungryJack mashed potatoes. All her favorites.

    Thethought of it made her stomach clench. She could not remember the last time shehad eaten.

    Shehad made slow progress on the plastic band around her wrists. She wasn't anywhereclose to being able to slip her hands out. Not yet.

    Eversince the van had stopped, a few minutes ago, she had lain motionless. Shedidn't know where they were or what was happening. It was better to be stillfor the moment.

    Atfirst she thought it was her imagination, but she heard footsteps. Footstepsapproaching.

    Lucyheld her breath.

Chapter88

    Theyapproached the van, weapons drawn. Jessica took the driver's side, JoshBontrager flanked right, a few paces behind. The immediate danger was thethreat from the back doors.

    Atthe rear bumper Jessica stopped, raised her left hand, made it into a fist.Bontrager stopped. Jessica put her ear to the back doors, listened. Silencefrom within.

    Jessicaheld up five fingers. Bontrager nodded.

    Jessicacrept up to the driver door, counted down silently from five. There were nolights in the van, so the side mirror did not reflect the inside. She held herweapon in her left hand, trained on the door, slid her right hand along thepanel.

    Onfour she opened the door, stepped to the left in attack stance, weapon leveled.The driver's seat was empty, as was the seat on the passenger side. Keys in theignition.

    Bontrageropened the passenger door on five, pointed his flashlight inside the van.Behind the driver's seat were a pair of side racks. Strapped into them wereDavid Albrecht's equipment - tripods, equipment cases, lights, microphonestands, a short ladder.

    Jessicaflipped on the van's interior light.

    Therewas no one inside.

    Nearthe back doors they could see the video camera on its side.

    Thecamera was on, the blue rectangle of the flip-out LCD screen glowed. Jessicatook a single latex glove out of her pocket, snapped it on. She crossed to theback of the van, opened a door. Reaching in, she tilted the camera back ontoits side. There had to be two dozen buttons.

    'Doyou know how to operate one of these?'

    'Sortof,' Bontrager said. 'I took the video of my cousin's wedding last year.'

    'There'svideo at an Amish wedding?'

    'Mycousin left the church. She married English.'

    Bontragerput on a glove, looked closely at the camera for a few moments. He hit abutton. They heard a whirring sound, then a click. The side of the camera opened.

    'There'sno tape,' Bontrager said.

    Jessicascanned the back of the van, looking for a tape. Then she went back to thefront of the vehicle, searched through the console and the glove compartment.Empty.

    'Sometimesthere's a memory card,' Bontrager said. He clicked a few more buttons.Different menus flicked by on the LCD screen. 'Yeah, the card's still inthere.'

    Bontragerthumbed a few more buttons, the screens ticked by. He hit a button. A videocopied to the memory card began to play.

    Therewere only twenty seconds or so of video and audio, but it was chilling. Thevideo showed someone walking up to the camera along a dark lane. The camera wasshaky, showed the figure from the shoulders down.

    'It'syou,' a voice whispered. Was it Albrecht speaking? Impossible to tell.

    Withoutanother word, the door of Albrecht's van was yanked open. The video spun into acollage of images: trees, night sky, the side of the van.

    Theimage then became a stationary shot along the ground, showing Sawmill Roadstretching out into the darkness. This continued for a few moments before thescreen went black.

    Bontragerstepped a few paces away from the van, pointing his flashlight at the ground.'Jess.'

    Jessicawalked over. On the trunk of a fallen tree was a small pool of blood. A fewmore drops on the grass led deeper into the woods, over trampled branches.

    Weaponsin hand, the two detectives stepped into the forest.