She forced a cocky smile. “Stings like hell, though, doesn’t it?”

“Worth the sting, because now you’re empty, another predictable move, by the way.” He lifted his weapon, aiming directly at her head. “So, what are you going to do, hero?”

She stared at the gun’s barrel, realizing she had come to the end of the road. She was flat out of both ideas and options.

“Game over, Killian.”

He laughed. She heard Alice’s scream, the roar of blood in her head. The shot’s blast drowned out both. But the moment of shattering pain didn’t come. Instead, Troy’s head seemed to explode. He stumbled backward, then fell.

Stacy turned. Malone stood in the doorway, gun trained on Troy’s still form.

CHAPTER 61

Sunday, March 20, 2005

7:35 p.m.

The next minutes passed in a blur. Malone called for an ambulance and a crime-scene unit. Informed dispatch of a fatality. Tony and Stacy led the two women outside to a car.

Moments later, Spencer joined them. “Everyone’s on their way. Including an EMT unit.” He turned to Kay. “Do you feel strong enough to answer some questions, Mrs. Noble?”

She nodded, though Stacy saw her clasp her hands in her lap-as if to keep them from shaking. Or keep her strong.

“He was crazy,” Kay began softly. “Obsessed with White Rabbit. He bragged about how smart he was, how he was playing us all. Even Leo, the Supreme White Rabbit.”

“Start at the beginning,” Spencer said softly. “The night he abducted you.”

“All right.” She glanced at Alice with concern, then began. “He came to my door. Asked if he could speak with me. I let him in. I never thou-I never-”

Her voice cracked; she brought a hand to her mouth, visibly fighting for control. “I fought him. Kicked and clawed. He hit me. I don’t know what with. Next thing I remember, I was in a car trunk. Tied up. We were moving.”

“What happened then, Mrs. Noble?”

“He brought me here.” She swallowed hard. “He came and went. He told me about…about killing-”

Alice began to cry. Kay put an arm around her shoulders and drew her daughter closer.

“He bragged about how he had taken out the King of Hearts.”

“Leo?”

She nodded, eyes welling with tears. “Sometimes he just rambled.”

“About?”

“The game. Characters.” She wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Killing Alice was his goal,” Kay said. “He set it up to watch her character kill one player after another. Then when they were all eliminated, he’d kill her.”

The woman looked at Stacy. “You eluded him. He couldn’t kill Alice until you were out of the way.”

And Alice was the bait to get her out here.

“There were other Alices,” the girl said quietly. “I wasn’t the first.”

Spencer’s mouth tightened. “Where? Did he say?”

They both shook their heads. Kay caught her daughter’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “But she was the ultimate. The Alice. He found us through news stories and online interviews.”

The EMTs arrived. Tony helped Kay and Alice to the ambulance.

Stacy watched them a moment, then turned to Spencer. “How’d you get here in time? We’re two hours from your stomping grounds.”

“You’re not as good a liar as you think you are.”

“The busboy dropping the pan of dishes?”

“Nope. Your promise not to do anything stupid. Got the okay to install a GPS tracking device to your SUV.”

“How’d you get a judge to okay that?”

“Fudged the facts.”

“I suppose I should be pissed.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Funny, I’m thinking I’m the one who should be pissed.” He leaned toward her, lowered his voice. “That was a pretty dumb stunt. You know that, right?”

She could be dead. She would be, if not for him. “Yeah, I know that. Thanks, Malone. I owe you.”

CHAPTER 62

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

1:15 p.m.

March became April. Much had happened in the two weeks since that night at Belle Chere. Stacy had given her statement no less than four times. It was discovered that Troy had been a drifter, an underachiever who had used his looks to prey on women-leaving them both broke and brokenhearted.

But very much alive. Without priors, his turn as the White Rabbit didn’t fit a profile. But did prove that anything was possible when it came to criminal behavior.

The police were contacting the various places he’d lived, looking for any unsolved murders of girls named Alice.

So far they hadn’t found any, but their search had just begun.

The White Rabbit case had been officially closed. Leo had been buried. Spencer and Chief Battard in Carmel-by-the-Sea, California, had been in touch.

The accident the Carmel police had originally classified as Dick Danson’s suicide had been changed to a homicide perpetrated by Danson. The victim: John Doe. Chief Battard hoped to change that before long.

Bobby Gautreaux had been officially charged with the murders of Cassie Finch and Beth Wagner. Stacy didn’t know if she bought it, but she had reached the end of the road. Her leads had dried up, and the police and D.A. believed they had enough for a conviction.

Who was she to say otherwise? She wasn’t a cop anymore. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Of course, nor was she a grad student. Stacy pulled up in front of her apartment, parked and climbed out of her Bronco. She’d officially flunked out. The head of the English Department had acknowledged there’d been extenuating circumstances and agreed to allow her back in the fall. After all, up until Cassie’s murder, she had been performing well.

She appreciated his understanding and offer, but had told him she wasn’t certain what she wanted to do.

She was burned out.

Nothing moving back to Dallas wouldn’t cure. Or so her sister said. They’d spoken that morning. Jane had done her best to convince Stacy to come home, at least until she knew for certain what she wanted to do. She’d filled her in on all Annie’s firsts: she had begun to crawl, she was sleeping through the night, laughed at herself in the mirror.

Stacy missed her, too. She longed to be a part of Annie’s life.

Then there was Spencer. She’d spoken with him that morning, as well. They’d hardly seen each other since that night at Belle Chere Plantation. Not that she wasn’t interested in him.

But she had to take charge of her life, do what was best for her, long term.

A cocky homicide detective wasn’t it.

At least, she didn’t think so. Damn, but she was turning into a wishy-washy pain in the ass.

She climbed her porch steps and crossed to her door. Her new neighbor, a perky, rail-thin blonde, popped her head out her door.

“Hi, Stacy.”

“Hey, Julie.” The girl wore a spandex shorts set. From her apartment came the sound of an aerobic workout video. “What’s up?”

“I’ve got a package for you.”

She ducked back inside, then a moment later returned with a FedEx box. “They dropped this just after you left. Told ’em I’d make certain you got it.”

Stacy took the box. For its size, it was fairly heavy. She rocked it, and the contents thumped against the sides of the box.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Have a great day!”

The girl disappeared inside. Stacy crossed to her own door, unlocked it and entered the house. She kicked the door shut behind her, dumped her purse and keys on the entryway table, then turned her attention to the package. She quickly realized there wasn’t a shipping label affixed to the box and frowned.

She headed back over to her neighbor’s and knocked.

Julie appeared at the door. “Hi, Stacy.”

“Got a question. The package doesn’t have a shipping label. Did they hand you one?”