When Sami heard Al’s voice, she wanted to smash her cell phone against the concrete wall. She had just parked her car in the precinct parking structure and was walking toward the main entrance.

“The captain just called me.” Long pause. “He said you’re okay partnering with me?”

“Do I have a choice?” she asked.

“It wouldn’t be a popular choice with the department, but yes, you do have a choice.”

“And what do you suggest I say to the captain, that my boyfriend fucked another woman and—”

“I can say I’m sorry for the rest of my life, Sami, but if you can’t let it go—”

“Let it go? How about letting me catch my breath? Twelve hours ago you told me that you slept with another woman and you expect me to just dismiss it as if you kissed her on the cheek?”

“People make mistakes.”

“Yes, they do. But I don’t consider you screwing another woman a mistake.”

“If you want me to call the captain and tell him I have to go back to Rio, I still have some time under the Family Leave Act.”

“Back to Rio? Why? So you can fuck Sofia again?”

Al didn’t say a word.

Sami had to get back on task because this conversation was going nowhere. “We need to nail this guy before he murders another person.”

“We may be too late,” Al said. “I assume the captain told you about the missing person’s report.”

“He did. Are you capable of separating personal from professional?”

“Hey, I’m the one on the hot seat here. The question is whether or not you can work side by side with me without letting your personal feelings get in the way.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Al breathed heavily into the phone. “There is one more thing, Sami.”

She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t drop another bomb.

“Should I look for an apartment? Room with a friend? I’m not quite sure how to proceed.”

Nor was she. On top of everything else, the last thing Sami wanted was to explain to her mother why Al no longer shared her bed. Even if she let him sleep on the sofa bed, her mom would still play twenty questions.

I hope I don’t regret this.

“How would you feel about sleeping on the sofa bed?”

“You’re okay with that?”

She wanted to say, “No, I’m not okay with it,” but didn’t think brutal honesty would help the situation. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t offer.”

“Thanks, Sami. I’ll give you as much space as you need.”

Space is not what she needed. What she needed was a way for her to trust him. “Are you coming to the precinct?”

“Be there in thirty minutes.”

Great. She wasn’t so sure she’d made the right decision.

After Al flipped his cell phone closed, he stood silently staring at the Winslow Homer reproduction hanging above the bed. He was intrigued that the Holiday Inn Express had chosen the perfect watercolor to exemplify his emotions. Homer had poignantly captured his utter feeling of solitude and despair. In the painting, a man sat in a small rowboat, hunched forward, grasping the oars. The sky was dark and dismal, but the water calm. He couldn’t see the man’s face in the painting; the man’s back faced him. But he could tell that the artist’s intention had been to convey loneliness. He was no art critic, but from what he could see, Winslow Homer had captured the essence of loneliness. The painting now seemed as if it were an omen.

He sat on the bed, his mind a hornet’s nest of troubling thoughts. For so many years, he had quietly been in love with Sami Rizzo, never believing that anything would come of it, that his love for her was hopeless. When she had revealed her true feelings, telling Al how much she loved him, he felt as if he’d just won the lottery. Now, the thought of losing Sami was more than Al could bear. He knew her well enough to know, or at least hope, that eventually she’d find it in her heart to forgive him. He also feared that his indiscretion would forever tarnish their love. No matter what he did to beg her forgiveness, her heart was fragile, and this wound might never heal.

How many times had he cursed Tommy DiSalvo, her ex-husband, when he had cheated on her and she had called Al in the middle of the night looking for a firm shoulder to cry on? How many tears had he watched spill out of her puffy eyes? Now he was the villain, the unfaithful fool who jeopardized their relationship.

He remembered what Captain Davidson had told him when he’d asked about Al’s relationship with Sami: “What you’ve got is the brass ring, Al. Don’t fuck it up.”

Alberto Diaz could only hope that he hadn’t completely destroyed the most precious part of his life.

After retying McKenzie’s wrists to the bed with nylon straps, leaving her legs unbound and her body lying prone, Julian went into the bathroom to dress the wound on his neck. Fortunately for him, the scissors had not punctured a major artery or vein, so he felt confident the wound did not require stitches.

He understood her motivation to escape. If he were facing a similar fate, wouldn’t he do the same thing? He actually admired her courage and resourcefulness. He’d learned through years of experience with sickly patients that the will to survive is the strongest instinct.

He checked his neck in the mirror to be sure that blood was not oozing through the gauze, then he headed for the bed and sat beside McKenzie. Obviously startled, she jumped but didn’t say a word. He studied her form. Admiringly. Lustfully. His mind flooded with delightful possibilities. Thoughts of Eva. Thoughts of Rachael. He no longer fought the good fight like he’d done with Genevieve. No more troubled conscience or moral dilemmas. He surrendered to his deepest desires without the slightest concern for McKenzie’s welfare. His hunger to fulfill his fantasies far outweighed morality or reason. He wanted her the way he wanted her, and that was that.

He laid his hand on the small of her back and gently slid it over her butt. My, how firm she was. No doubt the results of her rigorous yoga workouts. She turned her head and stared at him, a look of total disgust on her face.

“Take your fucking hands off me.”

He admired the grit and determination in her voice. She was like a wild filly, fighting not to be saddled. Oh, how he’d break her will. He ignored her order and again slid his hand over her butt; this time his fingers lingered.

She struggled with the nylon straps binding her wrists to the headboard. She kicked her feet violently and twisted from side to side, but the straps restricted her mobility.

Julian eased off the bed and stood over the cart with the surgical instruments, carefully taking inventory. He picked up a pair of dressing scissors and sat down again on the bed. Without uttering a sound, he slipped the scissors under McKenzie’s sports bra and ran it up the middle of her back, cutting it from bottom to top.

“You fucking pig!” More pointless struggling.

Now, he grasped the top of her capri pants with both hands and yanked them over her butt and down her legs. He tried to pull them over her ankles and feet, but her violent thrashing made it impossible.

With his mouth only inches from her ear, scissors pressed firmly against her neck, he spoke softly. “If you don’t lie still, I promise you, you’ll regret it.”

She must have concluded that his was not an idle threat. She stopped resisting and lay as motionless as a corpse as she let him remove the capri pants.

Julian removed his clothes and knelt on the bed, his knees straddling McKenzie’s thighs. Now the tears began. She cried uncontrollably.

“Please don’t do this,” she begged, her voice no longer spirited.

So focused on his own needs, Julian could not evoke an ounce of empathy or compassion for her. Her plea fell on deaf ears. He closed his eyes and drifted back to his childhood. As he lost control and savagely took her, he spoke through gritted teeth.

“This is for you, Marianne.

“This is for you, Rebecca.”

By the time Al arrived at the main precinct, Sami and the captain had already gone over details of the investigation and discussed the likelihood that the missing girl, McKenzie O’Neill, had, in fact, been abducted by the Resuscitator.

Al knocked on the captain’s door, pushed it open, and peeked inside.

“Don’t be bashful, Detective,” Captain Davidson said. “Get in here and join the party.” The captain stood and extended his hand. “Welcome back to the shit-storm. Glad to hear your sister is doing well.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Al glanced at Sami, who was studying her fingernails. “Hi, Sami.”

Sami nodded, gave Al a quick look, and he could feel the icicles.

This isn’t going to be easy.

The captain brought Al up to speed on the investigation and gave him some details about the missing girl. Through it all, Sami sat silently.

Captain Davidson lit a cigarette and filled his lungs with the soothing smoke. “Do either of you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Al and Sami briefly made eye contact, then they looked at the captain.

“I’m not following you, Captain,” Al said.

“Well, follow this,” the captain answered. “First off, Sami hasn’t uttered a sound since you walked in the door. And considering that she’s rarely at a loss for words, I’d call that curious, wouldn’t you? Second, I’m getting a really weird vibe from both of you. You can cut the tension in here with a knife.”

“There’s nothing going on, Captain,” Sami said. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.” Now Al could feel her cold stare.

“You two better not bullshit me,” the captain warned. “You need to be totally focused on one thing only. Your personal lives take a back seat until we catch this guy. If there’s even the slightest friction between you two, and it’s going to interfere with the investigation, I need you to tell me right now.” The captain took another hit on his cigarette. “Are we on the same page?”

“We’re on it, Captain,” Sami said.

“Well, then, go catch that douche bag.”