And only then did she let the stone fall from her fingers.

San Quentin State Penitentiary

Interrogation Room A

Present Day

KENDRA SAT BEHIND THE INTERROGATION room’s one-way glass, still overcome by the sights, sounds, and smells of that horrible night. She had glanced at Colby at his trial only long enough to point him out for the jury. Otherwise, she hadn’t seen him since their confrontation in Coachella Valley.

And she didn’t want to see him now, especially after seeing the sick shrine he had erected to her in his cell. Even Griffin thought it best that she stay in the closet-sized observation room with Reade and Metcalf while he and Lynch spoke to Colby.

The interrogation room was empty, pending Colby’s arrival. It looked remarkably similar to every police interrogation room in every medium-to-large city in the country. Except for the bolted-down prisoner’s chair, complete with steel eyeholes for leg and wrist restraints.

Where was he? The warden had said he’d have him here right away.

The rear door finally swung open, and Eric Colby walked into the room.

He looked precisely as Kendra remembered him. Jet-black hair, high cheekbones, pale skin, and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. His lips were almost always pursed, and only when he spoke did he reveal his straight, tiny, rodentlike teeth. She’d always thought the effect was downright bizarre, almost as if they belonged in someone else’s mouth.

He sat down, but the guards didn’t secure him to the chair. After a moment, Lynch and Griffin entered the room and sat across from him.

One of the guards held up a pair of handcuffs. “Are you sure you don’t want us to use these?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Griffin said. He raised his eyebrows at Colby. “Will it?”

“Not unless you want to wear them.” Colby’s tone was bitterly ironic, almost as if he was telling a joke only he understood. “And what brings you here, Mr. Special Agent in Charge Griffin?”

“No need to be so formal,” Lynch said. “Just call him Special Agent.”

Colby’s gaze shifted to Lynch. “And what do I call you?”

“Sir. Mister. Hey you. I answer to pretty much everything.”

Colby nodded. “So what brings you here, Special Agent Hey You?”

Griffin leaned toward him. “Your DNA was found at a crime scene in the past week.”

Colby raised an eyebrow. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes. We thought maybe you could tell us something about it.”

“I’m a little busy right now. Come back and ask me about it next week. You might find the conversation a little one-sided, though.”

“We’ll ask you about it now.”

Colby shrugged. “Ask.”

“Your DNA was found at the home of Corrine Harvey in San Diego. She was murdered.”

Colby shook his head. “She’s not one of mine.”

“We know,” Lynch said. “She was murdered last week.”

“Fascinating.”

“Glad you think so,” Lynch said. “You’ve no doubt heard of the copycat serial killer we’ve been chasing.”

“Of course. Someone’s been paying tribute to Kendra Michaels’s rogues gallery. But so far, he’s neglected to include my work. It’s very hurtful, you know. I don’t appreciate your rubbing my nose in it.”

Lynch studied him for a long moment. “Oh, but I think it is your work. At least partially.”

“Really? I’m flattered. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a wee bit … indisposed, of late.”

“You’re the architect. Someone else is working from your designs.”

“Now that would be interesting.” Colby leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Tell me more.”

“Interesting?” Griffin tried to hide his disgust. He didn’t succeed. “Taking human lives is interesting?”

Colby’s lips curled into a sly grin. “Only if you do it right.”

“Tell us how your DNA got into that murder scene,” Griffin said.

“You’re asking the wrong question. The question isn’t how, it’s why.”

“Okay,” Griffin said. “Let’s start there. Why?”

Colby slowly stood up. “It wasn’t a clue, gentlemen. It was an invitation.”

“An invitation to what?” Lynch asked.

“Again, you ask the wrong question.” Colby moved to stand before the one-way glass.

“Sit down,” one of the guards ordered.

“What you should want to know is to whom was the invitation addressed?” Colby stared into the glass. “She is here, isn’t she?”

Kendra felt a jolt of shock.

He was staring at her.

He was only inches away, and there was no way he could see through that glass. Yet she could swear he could see her.

Colby smiled. “Of course she’s here,” he said softly. “Hello, Kendra.”

Kendra couldn’t take her eyes from Colby’s icy stare.

“I’d like to say I missed you,” he said. “But it wouldn’t be true. Because you’ve always been with me.” He paused. “Just as I’ve always been with you. Do you remember the gully? Do you still wake at night with the stench of death in your nostrils?”

She instinctively shrank back, away from the glass.

“I dream about it, too. But it’s a pleasant scent to me because I know what horror it brought you.”

“Get him,” Lynch told the guards sharply. “Get him away from that glass.”

The guards grabbed Colby and literally dragged him back to his chair. He laughed, but his eyes never left the one-way glass.

Lynch leaned forward across the table. “Enough,” he said tightly. He struck the table with his fist. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“She has everything to do with this, Mr. Lynch.” As Colby finally turned to face him, Colby picked up on his surprised expression. “Yes, I know who you are. I know who all of you are. Has it occurred to you that every single thing that has happened these past few weeks … just might have been all for one reason and one reason only?”

“What’s that?” Griffin asked.

Colby smiled. “To bring me face-to-face with Kendra Michaels once more.”

“Yes.” Lynch’s face was expressionless. “I’ve been considering it as a distinct possibility since I arrived here.”

“My God,” Kendra whispered.

Griffin shook his head, as if trying to comprehend what he’d just heard.

Colby smiled. “Think about it. How else could I have ever gotten her here? How else could you have gotten her here?”

Griffin finally spoke. “You’re positively insane.”

“No. If that was the case, I never would have had to stand trial.”

Lynch’s hands clenched into fists. “So you’re taking at least partial responsibility for these new copycat murders?”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort. But what I’m telling you is … if you want this conversation to continue, Kendra Michaels must join us.”

Lynch shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Then we’re finished here.”

“We’ll decide when we’re finished,” Griffin said.

“Actually, no.” Colby tapped his fingertips together. “The moment I accepted my death sentence, I became free. It was incredibly liberating, believe it or not. I simply cannot be compelled to do anything I don’t want to do. How many people can say that? There’s nothing more you can do to me, nothing more you can take away from me. You should envy me.”

“The hell we should,” Griffin said.

“Not you.” Colby’s gaze turned to Lynch. “But I think you’d have the imagination to grasp what I’m saying, Lynch. I believe that you may think outside the box.”

“We’ve seen your cell,” Lynch said. “And I don’t envy you.”

“Not until you have the same sentence pronounced on you.” He shrugged. “Those are my last words until Kendra joins us. If she chooses not to come in here, I wish you all a pleasant journey home. And good luck with your investigation.”

Colby folded his hands in front of him on the table and gazed straight ahead.

On the other side of the glass, Kendra stared at Colby in helpless fascination. He was wrapped in silent power, shutting them all out.