So what good were they? No good, just dead weight. He had to shoot them. Why not get it over with? There wasn’t anyone around to hear the shots; the storm would cover it even if there was. He could bury them in the barn out back and at least he’d be free. He needed to be mobile. If Sebastian was after him, he might have to move fast.

“Wesley?”

“Shut the hell up!” This time he knew they’d heard the fury in his voice. They wouldn’t call out again. But it was too late. He’d made up his mind.

Instead of putting on the shirt he’d grabbed off the floor, he stripped off the boxers he’d slept in. No need to soil his clothes. He hated to do laundry almost as much as he hated to cook his own meals.

The sound of Latisha and Marcie whispering made him even more determined. He was tired of wondering what the hell they were saying about him. He wasn’t a bad guy. He’d just gotten himself into a mess. And now he was going to get himself out of it.

After pulling his gun from under the mattress, he walked down the hall and stood in the open doorway. Both girls stared at him, their mouths falling open. They didn’t seem to notice that he was naked. Their eyes were riveted on the gun.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Latisha asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Who wants to go first?” he said.

“Is there a reason you’re smiling like the cat who ate the canary?”

Startled out of her thoughts, Jane looked up to see Jonathan standing in her office doorway. She’d called him a little while ago, hoping to talk him into canvassing the Indian casinos with her, but she’d gotten his voice mail. She hadn’t expected him to show up so soon after she’d left her message.

“I was…thinking,” she said, but she’d been reliving those few minutes in the motel with Sebastian and she suspected he could tell that she was lying to him again.

Sure enough, his lips curved into a devilish grin as he motioned toward the list she’d made. “You looked pretty distracted from whatever you’re doing there.”

She’d been using the Internet to search for all the Indian casinos in the area and hadn’t even realized that her mind had drifted-until he’d called her on it. “I was remembering something cute Kate said to me.”

“Oh, yeah? What was it?”

Suddenly, she couldn’t recall a single example. “Nothing you’d enjoy.”

“I’m guessing that’s true.”

She sat back. “What?”

“I doubt it has anything to do with Kate,” he said. “I’m guessing it had to do with a naked man. Definitely not something I’d enjoy.”

She couldn’t believe he was on to her-again! She’d heard he was a good P.I., but this was ridiculous. “How’d you know?”

His grin went crooked as he strolled in. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

She narrowed her eyes at his sheepish expression. “I do.”

“I followed you to the Raleigh Pete.”

Throwing down her pen, she pushed away from her desk. “You what?”

“David asked me to help you out with this case. He and another detective are canvassing the neighborhood where the car was found, trying for the second or third time to find someone who saw something that morning, but he’s worried about the lack of leads. I just wrapped up a case for one of my own clients, so I’ve got some time. I was coming down your street when I saw you pull out of the driveway.”

“So you followed me.”

“When you didn’t turn toward the office, I was curious.”

“I went to the Raleigh Pete to get a picture of the man we’re searching for.” Knowing it was a bit late for this, she shoved the picture toward him. “See?”

He glanced at it. “This is all you got?”

Her cheeks blazed. “What, you weren’t listening through the door?”

“Actually, I wanted you to be able to get that, er, picture in peace, so I went out for breakfast while I waited.”

She glared at him. Then, with a sigh, she gave up the charade. What was the point? She’d already told him about last night. “If you tell Skye-”

“It’s your business, like you said.” He took a seat across from her. “But I wish all my cases were as easy to figure out as what you’ve been up to this morning.”

“Quit teasing me,” she said with a scowl. “We have what could be a long day ahead of us. We should get going.”

He bent his head, imitating a subservient bow. “I’m properly caffeinated and at your service.”

She ripped off the piece of paper she’d been writing on and handed it to him.

“Damn, there must be thirteen casinos here,” he said as he studied it. “I never dreamed there were so many in this area.”

“They’re pretty spread out. But I used MapQuest to determine the distances between them so we could chart the best route. I was numbering them when you came in.” Grateful his attention had finally turned elsewhere, she got her purse. “We’ll start with Cache Creek.”

“Why not Thunder Valley? It’s closer.”

“Because we discovered handwritten directions to Cache Creek at Wesley Boss’s last known address.”

“This guy’s a gambler?”

“He’s a gambler, all right. And from what I’ve learned so far, no stakes are too high.”

Jonathan sobered as he slipped the paper in his pocket. “We’ll find these girls, Jane.”

The conversation she’d just had with Gloria came back to her.

So you’re meetin’ him this weekend?

We hope so.

You can’t make it sooner?

We can’t tip him off.

But by then it might be too late!

Gloria was right.

“We have to do more than find them, Jon. We’ve got to find them alive,” she said and walked out ahead of him.

The Internet provided an extensive list of handwriting experts. It took Sebastian some time to vet them, but there was a woman named Ritchie Lymond whose online biography impressed him. She’d done a lot of work for the FBI and other police agencies.

He clicked on the link, which took him to a Web site with her contact information.

Thinking he might be able to reach her more quickly by phone, he called the number listed on the site. The phone hadn’t even started ringing on his end when he heard a woman say hello.

“Ms. Lymond?”

“Yes?”

He explained who he was and what he wanted.

“I sympathize with what you’re trying to do, Mr. Costas,” she said. “But I hate to see you throw any more money at this. Even if I could determine that the handwriting sample was written by the man who murdered your son, there’s no way it could overturn DNA evidence. Handwriting analysis is ultimately subjective. It’s becoming more widely accepted now that we can scan it into a computer and digitize the comparison process, but…it’s not foolproof.”

“I understand that. I just…I need to know what you think.”

There was a long pause. “What do you have by way of exemplars?”

“Exemplars?”

“Samples to compare his writing to.”

Sebastian had the entire contents of Emily’s house in a series of storage units. He had that shoebox containing Mary’s old letters, but if Malcolm had written back, he hadn’t reclaimed those letters and Mary hadn’t kept them. They’d already discussed the fact that she’d disposed of everything he’d ever given her when she got engaged to her husband. Sebastian also had a journal and some letters he’d found when packing up the Turners’ home office, but all of that was primarily Emily’s. Would he have enough of Malcolm’s? Malcolm’s own family had come for his things. The storage unit would yield only the scraps from the storage area above the garage or drawers Malcolm’s family had overlooked. “I’m hoping I can get several. What would you like to see?”

“Letters, contracts, lists. The more you have the better. Are the directions to the casino written in both lower- and uppercase?”

“Yes.”

“Then get something that has both. I can’t compare lowercase letters against uppercase.”

Before he’d called Ms. Lymond, he’d contacted his mother and asked her to go to the storage place to see what she could come up with. “If I can get what you need, I’ll overnight it tomorrow or the next day.”