He admired that. It took a strong woman to accept sincere condolences and not go on the attack.

If he was in a better place in his life, if he knew where he was going, what he was doing with his career, Carina would be the type of woman he’d like to get to know. Intimately.

Lord knew he needed a woman who didn’t have baggage that weighed more than his.

Nick watched Steve’s neighbor Ava enter the room, glance around, and make a beeline toward Steve when she spotted him in the corner, surrounded by a large group of girls. Steve’s face lit up when he saw her, and they hugged. Platonic? No. They may not have had sex, but there was an affair of the heart going on.

What did these girls see in Steve? Sure, he was attractive and in shape, he was obviously attentive and liked to have fun. But wouldn’t they be more interested in boys their own age? Nick had been around college students most of his career and had never wanted to date any of them.

But he’d pretty much spent most of the last ten years in love with one woman. A woman who couldn’t return his feelings. A woman he had voluntarily walked away from, hoping she’d follow him.

She hadn’t.

He approached the group, standing aloof, not wanting to become involved, but Ava motioned for him to come over and made a space for him. “We were just talking about who could have done something like this to Angie.”

“We know Steve didn’t do it,” one of the girls said. “I can’t believe the police even talked to him like he was a criminal.”

Another girl squeezed Steve’s arm. “You’re okay, right? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No, no, nothing like that. The police really want to find Angie’s killer. Since I’m her ex-boyfriend, it’s logical they would look at me first. I understand that. But now that they know I didn’t do it, they can focus on finding the real killer.”

Nick watched the interaction, his complex feelings about Steve and his behavior weighing heavily. Steve glared at him, the accusation of distrust in his expression hitting Nick hard.

He said “Excuse me” and went to find Carina.

He needed fresh air.

NINETEEN

CARINA FIDGETED as she drove with Nick from the police station to her parents’ house twenty minutes east in an older, established San Diego neighborhood. It was nine o’clock, and the memorial service had been a bust-at least as far as learning anything about Angie’s killer was concerned.

All the guests had arrived safely and left unharmed; between herself, Nick, and the undercover cops, they’d matched up every guest with a friend or relative in the room. No one looked out of place, no one lurked in the bushes, no one wrote slut on the bathroom wall.

She felt like it had been a complete waste of time. She slammed her fist against the steering wheel.

“What are you frustrated about?” Nick asked.

“Nothing happened!”

“You wanted someone to be abducted?”

“No. I just wanted him to show up so I could nail the bastard to the wall.” She glanced at him, saw the bemused expression on his face, and lost some of her anger. “I’m good at that, you know. Apprehension.”

“Yeah, women cops have all the tricks. They have no qualms about hitting low because they don’t know how much it hurts.”

“Oh yes we do. That’s why it’s so much fun.”

“Our presence at Angie’s funeral could have prevented an abduction.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Seriously. He could have driven by, seen our people-even undercover. Killers have a sixth sense about cops, I’m convinced of it. And even if he only made one cop, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to stay.”

“Or made us and decided to stay and gloat.”

“That’s a possibility, too. If it’s someone close to her.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I think he knew her, but wasn’t close to her. I think he’s going to attack again, when or where I have no idea. The Butcher only killed women in the spring. He sometimes waited two full years between kills.”

“If you think I’m frustrated now, just watch me if I have to wait a year to get this guy. I don’t like unsolved cases.”

“You’ve never had one?”

“A couple. That’s why I hate them.”

“What about the Sand Shack?”

She frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“That deleted e-mail Angie mentioned to Steve. She thought the poster knew her identity because it implied that he knew where she worked.”

“And you’re thinking our perp could be someone connected to the Shack?”

“Connected, maybe, or a regular customer.”

“That makes sense. What if he already knew Angie and then stumbled across her online diary? Because of something he knew about her personally, he was able to make the connection.”

“It’s plausible,” Nick said. “But why kill her?”

“Maybe he hit on her and she rejected him. Because he thought she’d be easy, he had a fit and killed her.”

“Possibly.”

“You don’t sound like you’re buying it.”

“I’m not discounting it as a theory. I agree with your brother Dillon. It was personal in some way, which means I think he knew her or saw her on a regular basis.”

“I feel like we’re working on borrowed time, but I have no idea where else to look.” She stifled a yawn.

“I know that feeling,” Nick said. “On the Butcher investigation, every time we thought we had a lead it was a dead end. We knew he would attack again, we even knew it would happen in the spring. But every time it still shocked the town, almost as if it were unexpected, and we scrambled, searching for a college girl who most certainly had a death sentence.”

“That must have been Hell.”

“I’m just relieved it’s over.” He paused. “What happened to your nephew?”

Justin. She’d adored her nephew. Who wouldn’t have loved that little hellion? The first grandchild, the first nephew, the first of the next generation. With dimples like his mom and the statesmanship of his political dad, he would have been a heartbreaker, or president, when he grew up.

She missed him.

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Nick said. “I’ve upset you.”

“I’m okay.” She pulled the car into the Kincaid family driveway and turned off the ignition. “I just miss him. But my feelings are nothing like Nelia’s, my sister. His mom. She was devastated, but she kept everything bottled up for so long. When she finally burst…it wasn’t pretty. She and Andrew divorced, then she just left, moved to Idaho. More than anyone, my parents want her home so badly. They built the apartment you’re staying in for her. But she won’t come back. Maybe she can’t. Maybe she just can’t be anywhere near the family.”

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Justin was kidnapped when I was babysitting. Taken right from his bed in the middle of the night. I didn’t hear a thing.”

Nick touched her cheek and she found herself leaning into the light caress before realizing how inappropriate it was.

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

“I know that up here,” she tapped her head, then put her hand over her heart, “but in here I can’t help but blame myself.”

He took her hand. “What happened?”

“Nelia worked as an attorney for a defense contractor. She was working late nights, and Andrew-her husband, who was a prosecutor-was in the middle of a big case. I was in college, I could give up a few nights, study at their house. I remember that day so clearly. I had two midterms and a swim meet. I was wiped out. My mom always watched Justin after school…he and Lucy were born a month apart. Justin loved to tease Lucy and call her ‘Auntie Lu’ though she was twenty-seven days younger than him.” She smiled at the bittersweet memory. “My mom thought she was in menopause, and was shocked when she found out she was pregnant at the age of forty-five.”

“Nice surprise, anyway.”

“Yeah. Lucy can be a pain in the neck because she’s a bit spoiled. But she’s fun and I was really happy to have a baby sister.”