We find Elise so I can demand to know what the fuck she was doing with Savich. That’s what Duncan was thinking, but that’s not what he said. “We keep looking for her.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a loud clap of thunder rattled the windows.

The thunder preceded the rain that began that afternoon and fell relentlessly over the next forty-eight hours. It made the recovery mission more problematic, and literally dampened the spirits of everyone involved, so that by the third consecutive day of rain without any sign of letup, the mood in the VCU was funereal.

Even though it was Saturday, no one was taking a weekend off. The detectives were gathered in Duncan ’s office, going over what they knew, speculating on what they didn’t. The ballistics report was back on the bullet the ME had removed from Napoli -no match for it on any of the national crime databases. Dead end there.

Worley gnawed his toothpick. “If she went into the river, whether she was pushed or jumped, how come she hasn’t popped up yet? Usually doesn’t take this long. Ten days?”

“Maybe she was never in the river,” Duncan said.

“Maybe she was never on the bridge.” The men turned to DeeDee, who expanded her thought. “ Napoli was driving back into the city. He could’ve dumped her body in South Carolina somewhere. Miles of marsh, forests. Lots of places to hide remains.”

“What about her sandals?” Worley asked.

“He realized he had them, stopped on the bridge to get rid of them-”

“And the Wicked Witch of the West flew in on her broom and shot him.”

“It was just a thought, Worley,” she said snidely.

To her further irritation, she lost the coin toss and had to go out in the downpour to pick up lunch. She had just returned and was passing out the sandwiches when Cato Laird surprised them by walking into the office unannounced.

He looked like he’d lost at least a pound for each of the ten days his wife had been unaccounted for. His golfing tan had turned sallow. His eyes were sunk deep into their dark sockets. His shoulders were stooped. He hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. His clothes and hair were wet, adding to his ragged appearance. His unexpected arrival silenced everyone in the unit. All eyes were on him as he approached Duncan, who was trying to work up enough enthusiasm to take a bite of the sandwich that DeeDee had foisted on him.

“Detective Hatcher, we need to talk.”

Duncan motioned for the judge to follow him into his tiny office. Once they were seated, the judge laid a manila envelope on Duncan ’s desk, then glanced toward the open door. “I suppose they should be in on this, too.”

“DeeDee, Worley,” Duncan called, knowing they were well within hearing distance. They appeared almost immediately.

“Captain Gerard, too,” the judge said. “Is he here?”

“We’re all working overtime. I’ll get him.” DeeDee wheeled about and went to summon Gerard.

“Can I get you some coffee? Water?” Duncan wasn’t being hospitable. He extended the offer merely to postpone hearing whatever it was the judge was about to tell them regarding the manila envelope lying on his desk. It looked ordinary enough, but he had a bad feeling about it. If it contained anything hopeful, the judge wouldn’t be acting like the end of the world was nigh.

“Judge Laird?” Gerard squeezed into the room and shook hands with him. “Detective Bowen said you wanted to see us.”

Nodding, the judge reached for the envelope. The metal clasp remained closed, but the seam at the top had been slit open. “This morning, in an attempt to get my mind off Elise, I decided to attack the mail that had piled up since her…disappearance.

“I found this. I don’t know when it was delivered, but it’s postmarked the day of…the day Meyer Napoli died and Elise disappeared.” He glanced around at his raptly attentive audience. “I think this will explain…Well, you’ll see.”

And with that, he slid the contents of the envelope onto Duncan ’s desk. There were about a dozen eight-by-ten black-and-white photographs. The grainy quality of some indicated that the pictures had been taken through a telephoto lens. Elise and Robert Savich were together in each of them, obviously unaware that they were being photographed.

“As you can see, the venues are different.” Cato Laird spoke haltingly, his voice fractured by apparent pain and dismay. “So is their clothing. That indicates several meetings over a period of time, wouldn’t you think?”

The detectives were studying the photographs, handling them carefully to avoid smudging any fingerprints that might be on them. Duncan hadn’t touched them, but he picked up the business card that had been sent with them in the envelope. It was engraved with Meyer Napoli’s name, business address, and several numbers where he could be contacted, exactly like the card they’d found at the scene of his murder.

Gerard said, “ Napoli was blackmailing your wife.”

The judge sighed heavily. “So it would appear. And since he sent these to me, I suppose he intended to blackmail me also.”

“You didn’t know Mrs. Laird was acquainted with Robert Savich?”

DeeDee’s question sparked his imperious nature. “Of course not.”

In every shot, the two were fully clothed. All but a few of the photos had been taken outdoors, although the close-up framing made it impossible to determine the location. The pair didn’t appear to be intimate, merely comfortable with each other and engrossed in whatever it was they were discussing. There was nothing lewd, or even compromising, about the photographs, except that a superior court judge’s wife was in the company of a notorious criminal. That in itself was explosive.

“If I were to guess…”

“Please, Judge,” Gerard said, encouraging him to continue when he faltered.

“If I were to guess, I think perhaps Napoli stumbled across this…this…acquaintanceship when he was following Elise for me. When he saw her with Savich, her visits with Coleman Greer became of secondary importance.” He glanced at the photographs, then quickly away. “ Napoli would have realized that these photos could be far more damaging to both of us. He was trying to cash in on his bonanza.”

“Trotter was his messenger boy,” DeeDee said.

The judge winced. “I suppose. Whether accidentally or intentionally-naturally I prefer to believe the former-Elise foiled that plan.”

“Between the time you heard the shots fired and when you reached the study, did she have time to hide a set of these photographs?”

He gave a small nod. “She could have stashed them somewhere, intending to retrieve them later. In fact, I’ve caught her in the study several times recently, startling her when I came in. Guilty reactions, I realize now.” He dwelled on that for a moment, then said, “She probably destroyed the set of photos Trotter delivered. But Napoli, being Napoli, would have had a backup set. This set.”

“The night of the bridge incident, Napoli told her that he had mailed these pictures to you,” Gerard surmised.

“I suppose she became enraged and…”

“And used your missing twenty-two to kill him,” DeeDee said, finishing for him.

The judge covered his face with both hands and began to weep.

“Is there someone you’d like us to call?” Gerard asked quietly.

He shook his head, but he didn’t lower his hands from his face, and he didn’t speak.

Gerard indicated the door and the detectives shuffled out. “I think he deserves a few minutes of privacy,” the captain said to his subordinates once they were outside Duncan ’s office.

“He’s got some heavy shit to absorb,” Worley said. “ Napoli ’s one thing, but Savich? Jeez. But how does he factor in?”

Duncan had no answer for him, but he’d been trying to stave off a most disturbing thought. Was it even remotely possible that Savich had sent Elise to him? He recalled the smug manner in which Savich had taunted him about his evident interest in her. Had she been Savich’s secret weapon, the one Duncan had feared he wouldn’t see coming? The one that would destroy him?