He propped himself up on an elbow. “This is difficult?”

“You know what I mean. Awkward. Embarrassing.”

“Oh, sure.” He threw back the bit of blanket still covering him and climbed out of bed. And stood buck naked in front of her. “I know just what you mean. Totally embarrassing.”

The man deserved to die, she decided. Unfortunately, she’d left her Glock back at the Noble place.

She went for the next best thing, a bed pillow. She flung it at him as he made his way to the bathroom. She missed and it hit the bathroom door casing, then dropped to the floor.

His laughter ringing in her ears, she snatched up her panties and tugged them on, careful to hold on to the sheet. She found her bra, made certain the bathroom door was still shut, then dropped the sheet. From there, she went for her trousers.

She retrieved them from where they hung half on and half off the dresser, her cheeks heating as she remembered shimmying out of them, then flinging them over her shoulder.

Her cell phone, clipped to the waistband of her pants, buzzed. She’d set it to mute, she remembered. Unclipping it, Stacy saw that she had a new text message waiting.

The game’s exciting, isn’t it? It will be more so for you.

Soon, Stacy. Very soon.

She reread the message, blood humming in her ears. From the White Rabbit, she acknowledged. A warning.

She was next.

Stacy glanced at her watch. It read 7:20 a.m. The game’s clock was still ticking. In slightly more than seven hours Alice had to make her move. Against the Cheshire Cat.

Who had sent the message? Leo? Danson?

Or neither?

The bathroom door opened; Spencer stepped out. He’d wrapped a bath towel around his waist. It did little to cover him, but she appreciated the effort.

“Nice getup,” he said, referring to her panties and bra.

“We have contact.”

“Excuse me?”

“A text message on my phone. Take a look.”

He crossed to stand behind her, then read the message over her shoulder. When he’d finished, he shifted his gaze to hers. “Want to give him a call back?”

“I’d love to.”

She punched in the number. It rang once, then clicked over to voice mail. She angled the phone so Spencer could hear it as well.

“Hi. You’ve reached Kay Noble of Wonderland Creations. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

Stacy ended the call. “Not a good turn of events.”

“No shit.” He strode across to the bed, snatched up his own cell phone and punched in a number. “Rise and shine, Pasta Man. We’ve got mail.”

While he spoke to his partner, Stacy scooped up the rest of her clothing and headed to the bathroom to finish dressing. When she returned to the bedroom, Spencer was fully dressed and strapping on his shoulder holster.

She remembered when she’d had a shoulder holster. Remembered the weight of it, the way it had hugged her side. The way wearing it had made her feel.

“Tony’s working on getting the location that call came from. At the least, the cell company will be able to triangulate a position. At best, with GPS technology, they’ll pinpoint the exact location. I’m predicting the latter. I seriously doubt Kay Noble was carrying anything but the most up-to-the-moment cell technology.”

“You think she’s dead, don’t you?”

He stilled, looked at her. “I hope to hell she’s not.”

But it didn’t look good. Not for Kay Noble.

And not for her.

Six hours, forty-five minutes. And counting.

“I need a favor,” she said.

He cocked an eyebrow in question.

“I want to talk to Bobby.”

“That’s going to be tough, he’s in the Old Parish Prison. I doubt he’d put you on his visitor list.”

“You could get me in.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you owe me?”

“After last night, I would have thought it the other way around.”

He had a point, she thought, a smile tugging at her mouth. She held her ground, anyway. “If I hadn’t injured young Mr. Gautreaux, you wouldn’t have had the blood to link him to me, then to the three coeds.”

Spencer folded his arms across his chest. “True.”

“Look, I just want to talk to him. I want to hear it from his own lips. That he didn’t kill Cassie and Beth.”

He paused, then sighed. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. But you have until two o’clock this afternoon to do your thing.”

“Then what? I turn into a pumpkin?”

“I put about a dozen men trailing you. If this guy makes a move on you, we’ll be there.”

CHAPTER 53

Saturday, March 19, 2005

8:10 a.m.

Malone made a couple of calls and managed to get her on the prison admit list. But before she paid Bobby a visit, she needed to check on Alice.

“How’re things there?” Stacy asked when Mrs. Maitlin answered the phone.

“I’ve never seen Mr. Leo so subdued.”

“How about Alice?”

“Quiet.”

“May I speak with her?”

The woman agreed and went in search of the teenager. Moments later the girl greeted her. “Stacy? Where are you?” she asked.

“Checking out a lead. Are you all right?”

“Fine. The police sent someone over. He’s out front, guarding the place.”

Probably shooting the shit with Troy. “Good.”

“You didn’t come home last night.”

“I stayed with a friend. How’s your dad?”

“He’s getting ready for a meeting downtown. You want to talk to him?”

She thought of his screenplay. “No, I don’t think so.”

For a long moment, Alice was silent. When she finally spoke, her tone was hushed. “Dad’s scared. He won’t admit it, but I can tell.”

Scared of getting killed? Or caught? “It’s going to be okay, Alice. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Not long. Don’t do anything until I get there. Understand? No messages to the Rabbit.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She used the title to tease and Stacy smiled. What had happened to the surly teenager who had once warned Stacy to stay out of her way?

Stacy ended the call by reminding Alice she was no farther than a phone call away.

Spencer had arranged her admit pass to the prison through his cousin, who happened to be on staff there. He’d told Stacy to ask for Connie O’Shay; she was being admitted as a court-appointed therapist.

“Thanks for doing this,” Stacy told the redhead.

“Always happy to help a fellow clinician.”

Stacy didn’t correct her, and within minutes she was facing Bobby through unbreakable Plexiglas.

She picked up the phone. He did the same. “Hi, Bobby.”

He sneered at her. “What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Not interested.”

He started to hang up, but she stopped him. “What if I tell you I don’t believe you killed Cassie and Beth?”

Her words surprised her as much as they appeared to surprise him. He returned to his seat.

“Is this a joke?”

“No. You may be a rapist, Bobby, but I don’t think you’re a killer.”

“Why?”

Just a hunch, slimeball. “Let me ask the questions.”

“Whatever.” He slouched in his seat.

“Why’d you go to Cassie’s that night?”

“I wanted to talk to her.”

“About?”

“Getting back together.”

“Right.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Call me a romantic.”

“So, you didn’t go there to kill her?”

“No.”

“Then why? To rape her?”

“No.”

“I see why the police arrested you, Bobby. You have no credibility.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, thanks.” She stood. “Have a nice stay.”

“Wait! Sit down.” He waved her toward the seat. “I saw her leaving Luigi’s, out by campus. So I followed her home.”

“Just because?”

“Yeah. Like a fuckin’ idiot.”

“And?”

“I sat out front. For a long time.”