It would be more difficult this time because he wouldn’t be able to lure Jodi out like he’d done Angie. Angie knew him well, so she hadn’t thought anything was wrong even when he tapped on her window in the middle of the night.

“Angie? Angie? Can we talk?”

She’d been so trusting. Came right out, got in his car, and wham! He had her.

Jodi knew him, of course, but not as well. And with Angie dead he wasn’t so naive as to think Jodi wouldn’t be at least somewhat on alert. It was better to assume than to screw up, right?

So he’d set up the webcam and drugged the two-liter bottle of diet Coke, the milk, the orange juice, the bottle of white wine. Every open container in the refrigerator. He’d watch the kitchen, see when she poured herself something to drink, and wait.

The anticipation was almost as good as the real thing. He wished he could have gone home to watch, but the library was only a couple blocks from Jodi’s apartment, and he didn’t want to risk taking too long or getting stuck in traffic before he was able to get to her apartment. And he had his own private nook here. No one could see what he was working on. He used his own laptop, not the library’s computer, and he could see everything.

As soon as Jodi drank what he’d drugged, he’d leave. The few minutes it would take to get to her apartment would be just enough time for the sleeping pills to make her drowsy.

Abby had a late class every Wednesday. While she usually went out after her class, he couldn’t count on it tonight. Not when Angie’s funeral was tomorrow night and Jodi was home. Alone.

Come on, Jodi! Don’t fuck this up. Don’t mess with me. I’m going to have you no matter what.

Another lying bitch, acting like a sweet, nice girl and nothing but a slut like Angie.

Jodi came on-screen, the cheap webcam distorting her image. But he knew it was her. She opened the refrigerator and he held his breath.

She retrieved a bottle of beer, twisted off the cap.

No!

He couldn’t drug the beer. It wasn’t fair, it fucking wasn’t fair. How dare she screw up his entire plan! He’d been waiting for tonight, planning for tonight, had everything ready.

He slammed down the top of his laptop.

“Is everything okay?”

He jumped, turned, and saw that Becca had walked over to him. He’d been so focused on watching Jodi that he hadn’t noticed her standing right there, at the side of the table. Had she seen his screen? What if she knew what he had planned?

Her face didn’t give anything away, but she was a liar. All women were liars. Her tits were right at eye level, her low-cut blouse hinting at the flesh beneath.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He glanced away from her, pulse racing.

“What’s wrong?” She sat down in the chair next to him, put a hand on his arm. He looked at her small, slender fingers and the pink nail polish with tiny white flowers glued on. And he knew this was a sign, an omen. Becca didn’t normally work on Wednesdays, but she was here tonight.

Becca was his.

He looked back up at her, his face long and sad. “It’s my cat, Felix. He died today.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. How did he die? Was he old?”

He shook his head. “I found him on the front porch. He was bleeding.”

“Hit by a car?”

He began to get into the story he was creating, based in part on a long-ago truth. “That’s what I thought at first, then I took him to the vet. The vet said someone shot him with a BB gun. He found sixteen pellets in Felix.” He looked at her with dry eyes. “How could someone do that?”

She hugged him. “I’m so sorry. Do you know who did it?”

“I can’t prove it, but I think my brother did it. He always hated Felix.” He didn’t know why he said that, but it worked. She squeezed his arm, her eyes full of compassion. Her fingers were so soft…

The librarian motioned for Becca, and she stood. “I have to get back to work. Take care of yourself, okay? Losing an animal is hard. People don’t realize how much we grow attached to our pets. And you should definitely talk to your brother. That was cruel.” She gave him a spontaneous kiss on the cheek and went back to work.

Slowly, methodically, he packed up his laptop. He walked to his car, heart racing. If Becca worked her regular hours, she’d get off in less than an hour.

He would be here when she did.

Suddenly, losing his opportunity to take Jodi didn’t anger him as much anymore. There was always tomorrow.

All Nick had asked for were directions to a halfway decent hotel; what he got was a ride to Carina’s parents’ house and his own private apartment above their garage.

“I really appreciate your hospitality,” he said as he sat in Carina’s car in front of a modest, two-story house. One of Carina’s parents had a green thumb, as evidenced by the excessive flowers in the ground, in pots, and hanging on vines that covered four trellises lining the walk to the front door.

“Don’t mention it.” She didn’t make any move to get out of the car, instead turned to face him. “I read a couple articles about the Bozeman Butcher.”

Nick tensed. He didn’t want to talk about it. “Water under the bridge.”

“It was a tough case.”

He didn’t comment.

“I noticed you were limping after we drove back from Carlsbad. Are you okay?”

She sounded casually concerned, like any colleague would be. But beneath the easy tone there was something else…did she doubt he could do the job? Did she regret including him in the investigation?

“Why did you let me join you and Hooper?”

She didn’t answer him for a long time. Finally, “I didn’t want you working the case on your own. Secondary to that was your familiarity with sex-related murder. We felt your experience would be valuable.” She looked at him. “And you more than proved yourself during our meeting with Dillon. I don’t regret it. Do you?”

“No.” He leaned back into the seat, closed his eyes. “Steve and I had an argument earlier today. We’d never gone that far before.”

She was waiting for him to say more; what could he say? That Steve lived in his own fantasy world? That he had a dark side Nick was only beginning to discover? No, not yet. They had the interview in the morning and then…maybe then he and Steve could work to get back what they used to have.

But Nick wasn’t holding his breath. He was a different man today than he was two decades ago. So was Steve. They had grown apart, and Nick didn’t know how to bridge the divide. At this point it seemed wider and deeper than the Grand Canyon.

“I’m fine,” he finally said. “My knee gets sore at the end of the day, especially after a lot of use. By tomorrow morning I’ll be as good as new.” He smiled, winked at her. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

He found Carina looking out the windshield, a thoughtful expression on her face. Her profile was unusually exquisite, elegant. It wasn’t the first time since yesterday that he’d noticed how attractive Carina was, but it was the first time he’d had more than a moment to think about it.

She turned to look at him, her lips parted, and once again he noticed her sensuous mouth. It was a sin for a woman to have such kissable lips and not be kissed.

He looked away and said, “Maybe you should introduce me to your parents so they’re not surprised to see a light on over their garage.”

“I called them, they’re expecting us. And Nick?”

“Yeah?” He looked at her again, this time focusing on her eyes, not her lips. He didn’t particularly like the fact that he was attracted to the cop who believed his brother was capable of murder.

“I’m glad you’re on board.”

Becca was still unconscious.

He’d had to take her fast, because he didn’t know who would be coming in and out of the library parking lot. He knew she drove the little sporty Toyota because he’d watched her before. If someone was around, he had planned to follow her home instead. But everything worked out for the best: she left alone, no one was in the parking lot, no one was walking on the street.