“That’s not true! When this is over and you’re cleared, we-”

“There is no ‘we.’ I love you, Kitt. But I want more than you can give me. I have for a long time.”

She held a hand out. “Let’s not talk about this. Not now. Please.”

Her words came out rough, broken.

Broken. The way she felt inside.

She cleared her throat. Refocused. “Valerie’s taken off. She didn’t show up for work after she left here and she checked Tami out of school. I’m afraid for the girl.”

“Of course you are,” he said, tone bitter.

“I was hoping you might have some idea where they could have gone.”

He made a sound, part anger, part pain. “Check with Valerie’s mother. She lives in Rockton. And she has a sister in Barrington.”

“You have names?”

“Mother’s Rita Martin. Sister is Lori Smith.”

Detective White stuck his head into the room. “Lawyer’s back, Kitt.”

She held a hand up, indicating he should give her a minute.

“Joe, I want you to know that I-”

He cut her off. “Forget about it. Go do your job. Catch your killer, because I’m not him.”

She passed his lawyer without looking at him. Her chest hurt so badly she could hardly breathe. She wondered if things could get any worse, then acknowledged she hoped the hell not.

68

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

7:10 p.m.

Kitt hung up the phone. Her call to the Dekalb County sheriff’s office had yielded little new information. The evening staff was on duty; the deputy she’d spoken with sounded all of about twelve years old.

Damn, but she was getting old.

The young deputy had promised to ask around, see if anybody on the shift had been around in 1989. In addition, if the night proved slow, he’d pull the files himself and fax them to her. At the very least, he’d leave a message for the sheriff and his chief deputy to call her in the morning.

She hung up, frustrated. In the time it would take someone to get back to her, she could be down there, thumbing through the actual file herself.

She dialed M.C. It went directly to voice mail, indicating the device was turned off. “It’s me. I’m going to take a quick run down to Dekalb, to get a firsthand look at the Ballard case files. If you need me, call my cell.”

She headed out of the VCB, toward the elevator. She stopped short halfway there.

“You’re not going postal on me, are you?”

“Just trying to go with the flow, take a joke. You know.”

Dear God. She did know. That day the two of them had been joking around, M.C. had said, “If we ever need to signal each other, use you’re ‘going postal’ or ‘taking a joke.’”

That’s why M.C., who typically kept in constant contact, had been out of touch. Why she had sounded strained.

She was in trouble.

How had she missed it?

The clown, Kitt realized. She had been investigating the grandmother murders, had gotten a lead on the clown.

Could that be what had led her into danger? Had she gotten a name, followed up and then…what?

A sense of urgency pulling at her, Kitt turned and hurried back to her desk. There, she accessed M.C.’s mother’s name, then address and phone number.

She dialed the number; it rang a dozen times with no answer. Praying she was wrong, that she’d find M.C. with her family, neck deep in pasta and one of her mother’s interrogations, she hurried for the parking garage.

A short time later, she pulled up in front of a rambling, old farmhouse. A couple of cars were parked out front, though she didn’t see M.C.’s Explorer.

A young woman with blond hair and blue eyes answered the door, and Kitt thought she had the wrong address.

She smiled and showed the woman her shield. “I’m Detective Lundgren. I may have the wrong address, but I’m looking for the Riggio home.”

The woman returned her smile. “You’re at the right place. You’re M.C.’s partner.”

“That’s right.” She smiled. “I’m Kitt.”

“I’m Melody, M.C.’s sister-in-law.”

Kitt shook her hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt the family meal, I was looking for-”

“Mel, who is it?”

A tall, good-looking man appeared at the dining room doorway. That he was one of M.C.’s brothers was unmistakable.

“This is Kitt Lundgren,” Melody said. “M.C.’s partner.”

He stepped forward, hand out. “I’m Neil. Her respectable brother.”

“And my husband,” Melody added.

Kitt shook his hand. “I apologize for interrupting your family dinner. But I needed to speak with M.C. Is she here?”

He looked confused. “She’s not here.” He looked at his wife. “Was Mary Catherine coming by tonight?”

“Not that I know of.”

Kitt moved her gaze between the two, a feeling of dread growing. “Isn’t tonight pasta night?”

Neil smiled. “That’s tomorrow night. We just stopped by to see-”

“Melody, Neil?”

They all turned. Mama Riggio herself stood in the doorway. All five foot one inch of her. From her steel-gray hair to her black orthopedic shoes, Mama Riggio looked like a woman who insisted on being taken seriously.

“Mama,” Neil said, “this is M.C.’s partner, Detective Lundgren.”

The woman’s gaze sharpened. “Just who I want to talk to! Come and eat. Melody, set another place.”

The younger woman scurried to do it; Kitt stopped her.

“No, don’t, Melody. I really can’t sta-”

“I insist!” The woman used a gesture that suggested finality. “I want to hear about this man she’s seeing. She’s been secretive. I wouldn’t have even known if Michael hadn’t-”

Lance Castrogiovanni.

The funny man.

“Mama,” Neil scolded, “now’s not the ti-”

The woman shushed him and went on, though Kitt’s thoughts raced. She had no concrete reason to believe Lance Castrogiovanni had anything to do with M.C.’s disappearance, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he did.

“I’ve got to go,” she said, backing toward the door. “Sorry, Mrs. Riggio. But thank you for the invitation.”

She turned and hurried out the door and to her Taurus.

Neil followed her. “Detective Lundgren, wait!”

She stopped and turned. He reached her, searched her gaze. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

She saw his concern. She worked to cover her own. “I don’t know that, Neil.”

“I’m going to try her cell phone.”

“I already did.”

Fear tightened his features. “How can I help?”

“What do you know about Lance Castrogiovanni?”

“Who?”

“The man M.C.’s been seeing.”

“Clearly, not as much as you do. I know she liked him.”

“Any idea how they met? Or where he liv…” Kitt let the words trail off, seeing from his expression that he was clueless.

“If you hear from her, let me know right away.”

As she made a move to go, he caught her arm. “I can’t just sit and do nothing.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to.” She slipped her arm from his grasp. “I’ll keep you posted.”

After she had climbed into her vehicle and pulled away from the curb, she checked in with the CRU. No word from Riggio. She called Sal at home and after hearing her out, he agreed to an all-radio bulletin for M.C. and her SUV. He also advised her to call in Allen and White, to help track every step M.C. took since that morning.

She did as he suggested. Allen and White were none to happy to hear from her-until they learned the reason.

As she hung up with them, she got another call. Praying it was Riggio, she answered, “Lundgren here.”

“This is Deputy Roberts, Dekalb County sheriff’s office. I understand you’re looking into the Mimi Ballard murder.”

Not M.C. But second best. “That’s right. One of our officers was shot and killed by an unknown subject on Monday night. We got a ballistics match with the gun used to kill Ballard.”

“After all these years? Wow.”

“Do you remember the case?”

“I do. I was only fifteen then, but my dad was a deputy. It was a very big deal. As I’m sure you know, this is a rural community. Not a lot of murders around here. And certainly not ones like that.”