“He could live near there,” Carina said. “It’s convenient for him.”

“Or he doesn’t go to that college.”

“Then how would he be connected to Angie?”

“This place.” He motioned to the Shack. “Her work. Which connects to her feeling that someone who commented on her journal knew where she worked.”

The lunch crowd filled the tables in the Sand Shack. Carina saw Kyle behind the back counter. She waited until he was done with a customer before approaching him.

“Mr. Burns, you had a private party here last night, correct?”

“Yes, after Angie’s memorial service.”

“What time did you close up?”

“What’s this about?”

“Jodi Carmichael is missing. She was a friend of Angie’s. We’re hoping you know what time she left the Shack, who she left with, if anyone was watching her or asking about her.”

He looked confused at first. “Jodi? Um, the one with the short light-brown hair?”

“Yes.”

“She was here last night with her friends, after the memorial service. I don’t know when they left. But she wasn’t here when we closed up, which was about eleven.”

“Do you have a guest list?”

“Mrs. Vance asked people to sign in at the door. I don’t know that everyone did, but the hostess-Maggie last night-was greeting people.”

“Where’s the book now?”

“Mrs. Vance took it with her.”

Carina made a note.

Burns added, “Masterson showed up. Late. He didn’t go to the memorial service, at least I didn’t see him. I left early to set up the restaurant. But he showed up around ten-thirty and Steve Thomas had it out with him. I told them to take it outside. Thomas came back in fifteen minutes later.”

“And Steve Thomas was here the whole night?” Carina asked.

“Yes, he helped clean up. I know he drove Mrs. Vance and her mother home. He and some girl I didn’t recognize.”

“But you didn’t see Jodi leave.”

He shook his head. “By eleven almost everyone was gone and I know I didn’t have to ask her to leave like I did a couple other people.”

“Have you seen a solitary man hanging out over the past few weeks? Perhaps using the computers here?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “We have a lot of people who come in here alone. To eat, surf the Internet. Can you be more specific?”

“Around twenty, possibly a student, blond or light brown hair, six feet tall, slender.”

“That describes about twenty percent of my clientele,” Burns said. “I want to help, but you’re going to have to give me a little more.”

“Would you object to a detective from e-crimes coming down and checking the histories and hard drives of your public computers?”

Burns frowned. “I’ll have to clear it with the owner, but I don’t think it’s a problem. Can we do it after hours?”

Carina handed him Patrick’s card and wrote his direct number on it. “Call the detective and set it up.”

“Will it help?”

“At this point, we need to cover every base.” Carina turned to leave, then looked back at Burns. “By the way, have you ever been to the La Jolla Public Library?”

“Never. I always go to the library on campus. Anything else? I really need to get back to work.”

“We’d like to talk to your employees again. We can come by when it’s quieter, later this afternoon?”

“Fine. Anytime after two.”

They left and Nick asked her, “You suspect Burns?”

“I don’t know, I just thought it was a shot with the library.”

“He’s a little older than twenty, but Midge at the library wasn’t certain about the age. He has light brown hair and is about six feet tall.”

Carina said, “We ran all Shack employees, and other than one who was arrested for misdemeanor drug possession a year ago, they were all clean, including Burns. But I’ll put someone on it. Pull his DMV photo and show it to Midge.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Nick said.

He didn’t have a lot of time, just enough time to bathe her and finish her. He’d been dreaming about it all day. Still on the high from Becca, he expected to maintain it with Jodi.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Putrid. She’d shit in the bed, just like that whore Angie. He’d punish her for that before killing her.

She was asleep, in the same position he’d left her in.

“Wake up, I need to clean you up.” He looked at her carefully. She appeared…odd. “Come on, don’t be that way.” He sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t move.

He slapped her hard and she didn’t wake up. Then he noticed something different about Jodi. Her skin was a strange color. Sort of blue. He slapped her again. Her flesh felt thick, pasty, cold.

What was wrong? What had happened?

He pulled back her eyelids. Her eyes had a weird glassy look to them. And he knew.

She was dead.

“No! NO! That’s not fair!”

He shook her, but her body felt hard, unreal. He punched her in the chest with both fists. “Stupid slut! How dare you die on me! It’s my choice, not yours! You bitch!”

He punched her again, and again, an unfamiliar rage building. He tried to control himself, but it was like he was watching from the outside, from high above, seeing himself hitting Jodi’s lifeless body.

Her eyes were half-open, looking at him through slit lashes. Did the dead see? No, that was his imagination, his mind playing tricks.

He’d come home, risked everything, to finish it. He only needed an hour. And she ruined it. How could she die on him? Before he was done with her? It wasn’t fair!

He was breathing fast, too fast.

Calm down. Think.

He turned away from her body, looked at his hands. The skin across his knuckles was red and broken. Had he hit her that hard? Why didn’t he remember?

Think.

He had to get rid of her. As soon as possible. But not stupidly, he couldn’t be stupid about it. He was smart, he could think this through.

He had planned on dropping her someplace near her apartment after work tonight. But he had to get rid of her now. The thought of her, dead, in his bed until tonight made him ill. She had died without anything to stop her body from spreading its sick germs and fluids all over his stuff. The smell was awful, her urine and shit. Seeping into his mattress.

Damn bitch. She stole what was rightfully his-her life!

He had to wash the body, but it was getting late. Did he chance dumping her without a proper cleansing?

No, no, that would be dumb. He had to do it.

Jodi was heavy and he struggled. Sweat poured from his body, dripped onto hers. He was panicking, he felt it, knew it, could do nothing about it.

He ran the water over her body and left the bathroom to collect his thoughts.

Sitting heavily in his chair, he looked around. Okay, maybe things weren’t as bad as he feared. It was just the sheets he’d bought for her. His mattress, maybe he could buy a new one. Tomorrow morning, first thing. Burn this one. Yes, that was right, burn it. Good, good.

He collected all of Jodi’s clothing and bundled it in a garbage bag with the sheets and soiled blankets.

Deep breath. Calm. It hadn’t gone according to plan, but he was smart. He could improvise. As he worked through the new plan, his breathing evened out. He deliberately took time washing her body. Made sure anything that connected to him was gone. He used antibiotic ointment on his knuckles. He hoped no one noticed, but if they did he would have an excuse. Something believable.

He dried her off and branded her. Slut. Right across her breasts. Just like Angie.

Her body was stiff, hard to bend-it took some effort to force it into the bags. Tied them with rope. He was taking a chance driving her during the day, but he had to. The garage was behind the house, and trees partially obscured the yard from nosy neighbors. The old biddy with the cat on the right might be home, but she wouldn’t be able to see anything. On the left, the guy would have a view of the side garage door if he was at his kitchen window and looked way over to the left. But it didn’t look like he was home.