There were times when the historic brick building that housed Police Headquarters seemed to inhale and exhale. Seemed to have a rhythm and heartbeat. You got used to it after a while, but when that rhythm was upset, you noticed. It was similar to a flock of blackbirds suddenly stopping their chatter. Or when a heart monitor flatlined.

It was the change that got your attention.

Elise was in her office with the phone to her ear, hoping the third time would be the charm and Strata Luna wouldpick up.

She didn't.

Were they going to have to issue a court order to bring her in for an interview?

At that point, Elise became aware of a hollowness in the air. She hung up and sat there, testing the moment.

The sensation reminded her of the stillness that came when the eye of a hurricane passed overhead. After hours of unending noise, after hours of the wind creeping under rafters and whistling through window cracks, finding and banging every tiny loose bit of anything-silence.

Then you knew you had time to open the door and run outside into the hollow, echoless void.

Elise opened her office door.

The halls were silent and empty.

The elevator motor kicked in. From downstairs, a beehive of sound began to build.

People.

Talking. Whispering.

The elevator stopped on the third floor. The door opened and Strata Luna stepped out.

"Detective Sandburg." The agitated words were spoken through a black veil. She hurried over, dress billowing. "You must do something. You must catch the person who did this terrible thing. Enrique's killer can't be allowed to enjoy one more second of freedom."

So much for a court order. "We're doing everything we can," Elise told her, knowing her words wouldn't be nearly enough to calm the upset woman. They were waiting on the lab results, and of course they were looking for TTX, but at the moment all involved were treating the Xavier case as nonrelated.

David Gould turned the corner and appeared at the end of the long hallway. Upon catching sight of Strata Luna, he stopped, coffee cup halfway to his mouth.

The noise downstairs increased. Pretty soon people would be making their way to the third floor with a sudden need to use the copy room.

"Let's go into my office," Elise said.

When they were all three inside, David closed the door and Elise pulled a chair around for their guest while the overhead fluorescent lights cast them in a green, twitching glow.

Strata Luna sat down, then lifted the veil with both hands. Her face held the expected signs of stress and grief.

"Would you mind if we took your statement?" Elise asked.

"That's why I'm here."

It wasn't common practice to take a statement in the privacy of their personal space, but considering the circumstances and Strata Luna's notoriety, Elise thought it wiser to remain where they were. Since they weren't set up to videotape, David called downstairs and was able to recruit a stenographer so Strata Luna's statement would hold up in court. Five minutes later they were questioning her, a young male stenographer clicking away while a small tape recorder ran silently on the desk in front of Strata Luna.

The interview began with the usual name, age, address, and phone number.

Then Elise moved on to questions relating to the case. "Did Enrique Xavier work for you?" she asked.

"Of course he did."

"Do you know anyone who may have wanted to harm him?"

Strata Luna pulled a tissue from a deep pocket of her black dress. "I keep asking myself that question." A tear ran down her cheek. "Could it be somebody he knows?" She wiped the tear away with a trembling hand. "Can you tell things like that? By how the body was found?"

"You mean like a crime of passion?" David asked.

"Yes."

"It's a little early for that kind of speculation," Elise said.

"Do you have someone in mind?" David pulled a pen and small notebook from his shirt pocket. "Someone you think could have been capable of such an act?"

The appearance of the notebook seemed to ground Strata Luna. The tears vanished and she pulled herself together. "No."

"When did you first notice Enrique was missing?" Elise asked, steering them back to the traditional questions.

"Three days ago."

"Three days?" David asked in exaggerated surprise.

Elise added her own question. "And you didn't report it to the police?"

"I have little faith in the Savannah Police Department."

"Then what are you doing here?" David asked.

"Enrique is dead!"

"Let's go back," Elise said, hoping to placate her. "You said he was gone for three days. Didn't you think that was strange?"

"He goes away sometimes. But he always returns to me."

"He leaves without telling you?"

Strata Luna tucked the tissue in her pocket, then admitted, "We had a fight."

"What do you mean, fight?" David broke in.

"An argument born of passion."

David caught Elise's eye. Okay. Wasn't expecting that.

"Are you saying Enrique was more than your employee?" Elise asked.

"Yes."

"He was your boyfriend?" Elise asked.

"What a stupid word."

"Okay, how about lover? Was he your lover?"

"I hate that word almost as much. We sometimes had sex." She shrugged. "That's all."

"You lost two children, isn't that right?" David asked slowly, as if contemplating and setting up his next question.

"I told you that before," Strata Luna said.

"And one of those children was found dead in a fountain-isn't that correct?" David continued.

Strata Luna frowned, beginning to appear uneasy and annoyed, her grief pushed aside. "That's right."

"And now your lover is found dead in a fountain. Wouldn't you say that's a rather strange coincidence?"

David didn't trust Strata Luna. Everything about the woman was a flamboyant act, from her black clothes to the veil over her face that gave the staged illusion of hidden, solitary sorrow. A magician's game, meant to distract. You look here while something else happens over there.

Feel sorry for me. I've had such a hard life.

Had she killed her own children?

Maybe. Maybe not. All David knew was that she was a phony.

He knew grief. He understood grief. And you didn't carry it around with you like a fucking look-at-me flag.

Strata Luna stared at him, defiance in her face, tears long gone. Had they been part of her act too?

"I don't think anything is strange," she said coldly. "And there are no coincidences."

Something Flora had said to him. God. The girl had been brainwashed.

"You already admitted to having a fight," David said. "A lovers' quarrel-for lack of a better definition. Are you sure Enrique wasn't leaving you?" Such a thing would have really pissed off a woman like Strata Luna.

"Enrique would never leave me."

What ego. "There's only one way I can think of to be sure of that," David said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Elise trying to get his attention, trying to get him to cool it. He ignored her.

"Are you saying I killed Enrique?" Strata Luna jumped to her feet, head tossed back, spine straight in indignation.

Acting?

She leaned close and for a minute David thought she was going to hit him. Instead, she swept her hand across his desk, sending papers, pens, files, and coffee flying.

Elise gasped.

"You are such a foolish man." Strata Luna's top lip curled in disgust and loathing. "But then, all men are foolish."

Remaining in his chair, lukewarm coffee soaking into his pants and shirt, David asked, "You don't like men, do you? You didn't really care for Enrique all that much, did you? He was just convenient."

"You should know about convenient."

Ah, Flora. So Strata Luna knew the details of their strange relationship. No surprise there.

Towering over him, the Gullah woman pulled in a deep breath. "Detective David Gould"-her next words were enunciated very clearly-"I curse you."

The keys stopped.

While the stenographer sat there, mouth agape, Strata Luna pulled the veil back down over her face and swept from the room.

After a moment, David reached out and shut off the recorder with a loud click.

Sitting behind the wheel of the Lincoln Continental, Flora blew her nose and threw the tissue on the floor with a deep pile of others. She hadn't wanted to come today, but Strata Luna had needed someone to drive her to the police station. Then she'd made her wait in the car, which was probably for the best because she couldn't quit crying. Every time she thought she was done for at least a few minutes, she would start all over again. Her head ached from it. Her face hurt. She couldn't breathe through her nose.

She reached up and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror and saw that her face was splotchy and swollen. Even though David had told her to quit coming around, she desperately needed to see him, but not when she looked so awful.

The passenger door flew open and Strata Luna slid inside.

Flora stretched across the seat and began raking in the wet, wadded-up tissues.

"Drive," Strata Luna demanded. "Just drive. To Bonaventure. I need to visit my children."

Leaving the tissues, Flora straightened and turned the key in the ignition. "Did you see David?" she asked, pulling away from the curb.

"I saw him," Strata Luna said.

"And?"

"I think it's time you found yourself a new boyfriend."

Shortly after Strata Luna stormed out of the building, Elise's phone rang.

"Got some news," Cassandra Vince, the GBI medical examiner, announced. "Using mass spectrometry, we were able to detect trace amounts of tetrodotoxin in Gary Turello's liver."

It was the information they needed to finally link the old deaths with the new ones. It meant someone had been killing people with tetrodotoxin for at least a year and a half.