She swallowed, nodded, unable to talk. Few men made her feel small and feminine. Nick Thomas was definitely one of them.

Gage was nodding. “I can see it.”

Chen concurred. “Holds with the evidence. There is no soap residue in the wound, which suggests it occurred after the washing.”

“Anything else that’s different about this crime scene?” Carina asked, finally finding her voice.

“Look at her right hand.” Chen lifted the victim’s hand, showing deep gashes under her nails.

“What did he do to her?” Carina asked.

“Cleaned her fingernails with a knife,” Chen answered. “Then doused them in bleach.”

“Why?” she asked.

Nick answered. “Remember that she ran. She’s unrestrained and fighting back. What would you do?”

“Hit, kick, scratch-” she paused. “She scratched him. Were you able to get a sample of his skin?”

Jim shook his head. “Doubtful, though we’re taking extensive samples from her fingers. The knife turned the ends of her fingers to pulp, the bleach messes with the tests.”

“Anything else?” Nick asked.

“Becca Harrison had been a virgin.”

“Well, that certainly shoots down the theory that she had an online sex diary,” Carina said. “So where’s the connection?”

“Let’s go to the library,” Nick said. “They should be open by now.”

The library wasn’t open to the public yet, but several people were inside. Carina knocked briskly on the glass double doors and flashed her badge when someone looked her way.

A petite silver-haired woman unlocked the door, her eyes red-rimmed. She clutched a pile of damp tissue in one hand.

“Is this about Becca?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman’s eyes teared again. She let Carina and Nick in, locked the doors behind them. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”

“Are you the librarian?”

“The head librarian, yes. Marjorie Kimball.”

Carina introduced herself and Nick, then asked, “Were you working Wednesday?”

“Yes.” She rubbed the tissue against her eyes. “Please come in. I called the other staff and volunteers when Mr. Harrison told me Becca had been…” Her voice trailed off. “We were so worried yesterday, but thought for sure there was some logical explanation. At least we tried to tell each other that.”

“Ms. Kimball, we’d like to speak with you first, then to the rest of the staff, in private. Is there a room we can use?”

“Um,” she looked around as if she’d never seen the library before. “We have a meeting room in the back. Will that do?”

“Perfect.”

Carina let the librarian lead the way. The La Jolla Public Library had been lovingly maintained and upgraded. It was multileveled, with skylights in the large reading room and work stations throughout. Far different from her small neighborhood library, which had been walking distance from the house her parents still lived in. But this library smelled the same, of books new and old, newspaper, and quiet.

Carina let Ms. Kimball give them Becca’s schedule-Tuesday and Thursday from four in the afternoon until eight in the evening. Becca had been volunteering at the library for more than a year, since she turned sixteen. She’d been filling in for a friend on Wednesday.

After going through the preliminaries, Carina asked, “On Wednesday did Becca tell you she was planning on being picked up or meeting with anyone?”

Ms. Kimball shook her head. “No. She left promptly at eight.”

“Has she talked about a boyfriend or special friend?”

Again, no. “She didn’t date. She’s shy around boys. A late bloomer.”

“Do you know if she had a Web page or an online journal of some sort?”

“She never said.”

“Did she ever tell you about someone who’d been harassing her or any fears that she was being followed?”

“No. She was always joyful. That’s what I think of when I think of Becca: joy. On Wednesday she was just as happy as ever.”

This wasn’t getting anywhere. “Did she talk to anyone here?”

“Patrons.”

“Anyone who was new? A stranger? Someone who wasn’t a regular patron?”

“I don’t know. No one I noticed as strange. I don’t know everyone who comes in here, but I recognize most of the faces of the regulars.”

“Okay, think back to that night. Was there anyone who left either right before or right after Becca?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was at my desk, which is in the back of the library. Midge, she’s out in the annex waiting, was at the front desk. She would have a better view of everyone who enters.”

Nick escorted Ms. Kimball out and brought in Midge. They went through the same questions. “Becca talked to everyone,” Midge said. She was younger than Ms. Kimball by at least ten years, but seemed stodgier. “I had to constantly work on her to focus on her job, not chatting. But she’s a volunteer,” she said in a “what can you do” tone.

“And on Wednesday?”

“She talked to at least six people while she was working. I can’t imagine any of them hurting her.”

“Can you describe any men she spoke with?”

“Mr. Sanders and his wife. They come in every Wednesday and Sunday to read newspapers.”

“How old are they?”

“In their eighties.”

Forget them, Carina thought.

“Who else?”

“The nice young man who lost his cat.”

“Do you know his name?”

“No, he comes in a few times a month, in the evenings usually. Doesn’t have a library card.”

“And his cat ran away?”

She shook her head. “Becca said that someone shot the poor animal. Can you imagine? She was heartsick over it.”

Carina glanced at Nick and he gave her a brief nod. “When did he leave?”

“Oh, early. Five, five-thirty. I don’t really remember.”

“What does he do when he’s here?”

“Studies.”

“He’s in college?”

“I think so, I’m not sure. He brings in textbooks and his laptop.”

“He doesn’t use the library computers?”

“No. He prefers one of the laptop stations in the annex.”

“Can you describe what he looks like?”

Her brow furrowed as she concentrated. “Nice-looking. Average. Tall, but not as tall as you.” She pointed to Nick. “A little on the skinny side. But he’s very nice, polite. Clean-cut. I think Becca had a crush on him, but she was too shy to ask him out and I think he was too shy to ask her out.” She shook her head. “She was such a sweet girl.”

“About how old would you say he was?”

“I don’t know, maybe early twenties. Maybe younger. Kids look so much more mature these days.”

“Do you remember his hair color?”

“Um, light.”

“Blond or light brown?”

“I don’t know. More on the brown side, I’m not really sure. You don’t think…he’s not…he can’t be. He’s just a young man.”

As if being a young man meant you couldn’t rape or murder. “We don’t know right now, we’re trying to talk to everyone who spoke to Becca the day she disappeared. We’d like to talk to him, maybe he saw something.”

“Oh, right, that makes sense. I can get you the Sanders’ information.”

“Do you know if the young man Becca spoke with has a car?”

“No.”

“But you’re certain he left during the five-o’clock hour.”

“Yes. I left at six and he’d gone before then.”

“Do you remember if he looked at any specific book while he was here?”

“No, he came in about four, just before Becca came in, and sat at the table near the front of the annex like he always does. He worked on his laptop the whole time, at least from what I saw. I didn’t have to clean up his workstation like I do some people.”

Carina thanked Midge for her time and continued with the interviews. When they were done speaking with everyone who’d been working Wednesday night, no one else remembered the light-haired “young man.” They asked Midge to call them if he came in again, and then they looked at the table she’d indicated that he always used.

It was a small, flat maple table, no drawers. Immaculate. A power outlet was within arm’s reach. The man could see the entire library, but no one could see his computer screen. Not that that meant anything; Carina herself never sat with her back to a room or door. Most civilians didn’t have that phobia.