“Wait,” Carina said, “I thought you said you didn’t have anything from Becca.”

“I should have told you, but I was swamped running DNA myself. I don’t have to tell you how shorthanded we are right now.”

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t an accusation-”

“No, I should have said something. Anyway, I found a hair with a follicle in one of the layers of plastic wrap. One hair, that’s it. There’s some other trace evidence-wool from a blanket, some cotton fibers-but this was the only DNA evidence. So I ran it against the database and it popped up Mitchell Burns. But there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Another commonality to our current murders.”

“Glue?”

“No, but close. Burns gagged his victims with a black bandanna and tied them to the bedposts with white nylon rope.”

“White rope is common,” Nick said.

“But black bandannas aren’t,” Carina added. “So he broke into their house to rape them?” Carina wasn’t surprised. It was common, but her fear that no one was safe even in their own homes was deep-seated.

“Yes. Ground-level apartments in low-security buildings. He was a repeat offender, and had used the bandannas in his previous crimes as well.”

“Any particular reason?”

“None that was in the file.”

“But you said he’s not in prison.”

“He’s still missing. LAPD watched his house for a while, but he never returned.”

“Maybe he realized he’d made a mistake and ran,” Nick said.

“That was my thought.”

“Eight years is a long time to disappear,” Nick said. “Especially a wanted man and repeat offender.”

Carina wrapped her mind around the information Jim had given her. “So the DNA matched a known rapist who has been missing for eight years?”

“No,” Jim said. “Mitchell Burns didn’t rape our three victims. But a close relative did. A brother, first cousin, uncle, son.”

“Son.”

“He has two. According to the police reports, he had two minor sons at the time of his first arrest twelve years ago, twelve and five.”

“That would make them about twenty-four and seventeen,” Carina said. “Names?”

“They’re not in the record, but get this. Burns’s wife moved to San Diego six years ago.” Jim handed her another sheet of paper.

“Here’s the address of Regina Burns. She lives in University City.” University City was between downtown San Diego and La Jolla to the north.

Carina gathered the information and checked her weapon. “Who wants to take a bet that Kyle Burns is the rapist’s son?”

No one took the bet.

“Do you want backup?” Jim asked Carina.

“We’re just going to talk to Kyle Burns first, then Mitchell Burns’s wife,” Carina said. “If Regina Burns confirms what we think we know, we need to put twenty-four/seven surveillance on Kyle Burns and fight for a warrant.”

“It’s going to be next to impossible to get Kyle Burns in with what we have. No attorney will allow him to submit to a DNA test.”

“Then we’ll have to find other evidence to give us probable cause for an arrest. Then we can get his DNA.”

“Don’t you need a warrant for DNA?” Nick asked.

“In California all you need is probable cause for an arrest. Everyone arrested for a felony in California is subject to DNA testing.”

With a solid lead at last, Carina rushed from the room, and Nick followed.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Hi Scout:

I’m so sorry about Felix. How awful! If anything happened to my kitties, I would be so upset.

I’ve been visiting my mother for the last week and haven’t had time to e-mail you. My mom’s been sick and we’ve had a hard time with it. I just hope she gets better. The doctors are afraid the cancer has come back, but I’m praying it’s not that again.

If you want to talk about Felix, go ahead.

By the way, I’m really struggling in one of my classes. You really helped me with my midterms last semester, in calculus, remember? Do you think you have time today to help with another problem? I’ll hang out in the private chat area. I have Room 303 reserved and open on my computer. I’ll be studying here all day, so if you can help just pop in.

Elizabeth.

Dillon composed the e-mail from “Elizabeth Rimes” and sent it off to Scout’s public e-mail account through the MyJournal server.

“Smart kid,” Patrick said.

“Smart enough to not use her real name and to realize Scout was obsessing over her.”

Dillon had spoken to Elizabeth-real name Bethany Eggers-over the phone, and she had told him she’d stopped responding to Scout’s e-mails when she found out he’d lied about his cat dying. She’d found three other messages on the MyJournal board from him talking about “Felix” dying. “It was downright creepy,” she said. “When you’re done with my account, just close it down.”

Because Elizabeth had never responded to the cat message, Dillon composed it in a way to encourage interaction. He had the chat room window open, and Patrick had a mirror of the site on his computer screen.

“Now what?” Dillon asked.

“We wait.”

“How long?”

“As long as it takes.”

Dillon let out a sigh. “I’m a patient man, Patrick, but this tests even my resolve.”

“I’m going to call Carina and tell her we’ve set the trap and to be on alert.”

“Tell her to be careful, too.”

“I always do.”

Carina and Nick arrived at the Sand Shack after the dinner rush. Kyle Burns didn’t look particularly pleased to see them, but he approached and said, “What can I help you with, Detectives?”

“We’d like to talk to you about your father.”

Carina gauged his reaction, surprised at the intense anger that flashed across his face.

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Burns realized he’d spoken too loudly and looked around. Several of the waitstaff looked away. “Let’s go to my office,” he said through clenched teeth.

Carina and Nick followed him back. She assessed the situation. Kyle didn’t appear to be armed, but she wasn’t going to be crammed into that little office of his where he might be able to turn the tables on them.

“Mr. Burns-” Carina began.

“I don’t want to talk about my father,” he said again. “I have nothing to do with him.”

“Well then, maybe you’ll listen. We know that Mitchell Burns was a convicted rapist who disappeared eight years ago while under suspicion for rape. Have you seen or heard from him since?”

“No.”

“What about your mother?”

He gave a half-laugh. “She can have him. She’s no better than he is.”

“Are you saying that your mother may have had contact with her husband?”

Kyle rubbed both hands over his face. “No, he never contacted her.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“She would have told me.”

“You’re close?”

“No, but if she saw Mitch she would have told me.”

“What about your brother?”

“What about him?”

“Do you think he may have had contact with Mitch Burns?”

“No, never.”

“You sound certain.”

“Brandon would have told me.” Kyle shook his head. “Ask him yourself. He’s busing tables right now.”

Carina was surprised. “You didn’t give us any employee records about your brother.”

“He just helps out sometimes after school and on the weekends.” He sighed. “Look, I pay him under the table, okay? Is that a crime?”

“Actually, yes.”

Kyle frowned. “It’s just that-”

Carina put her hand up. “I’m not going to arrest you for IRS problems. But I’d like to talk to your brother. Maybe your father has contacted him.”

“You don’t understand what it was like. I was twelve when he went to jail. I sat in the courtroom during the trial and listened to what he’d done. Listened to my own mother lie for him.” Kyle grimaced. “And then the prosecutor didn’t go after her for perjury because he felt sorry for her. What a joke. She was pathetic. We were all better off without him.”