Chapter Twelve

Monday, January 14, 9:00 A.M.

The Channel 10 news station was Jacob’s first stop of the day. Deliberately, he’d arrived early, knowing Kendall generally arrived around two. He wanted to talk to her boss, Brett Newington, uninterrupted.

It had continued to plague him that the two victims looked alike and both resembled Kendall.

The lobby had undergone a massive renovation. The art deco style and faded gray carpet were gone. Now there was a sleek modern look that featured lots of glass, a polished receptionist desk, and new carpeting.

On the walls were the pictures of the station’s different anchors. Kendall’s image was the centerpiece. Her gaze was direct, her smile bright. Behind her green eyes was an intelligence that sparked and set her apart from just about everybody. The arch in her left eyebrow suggested she knew a secret or a private joke that the rest of the world didn’t know.

Jacob slipped his hand into his pocket. Since he’d first seen her on TV last year, he’d dreamed about her. There’d been other women in his life, but his thoughts kept returning to her. She’d gotten into his blood. And it annoyed the hell out of him. Nothing like wanting what you could never have.

He turned to the receptionist, pulled out his badge, and introduced himself. ‘I’d like to see Brett Newington.’

The receptionist’s eyes rounded in surprise. She picked up her phone and dialed a number. She dropped her voice an octave. ‘There’s a Detective Warwick here to see you.’ She listened, then replaced the receiver. ‘He’ll be right out.’

Jacob didn’t have long to wait. Brett Newington appeared within seconds. The guy wore gray creased pants, a white shirt with his initials monogrammed on the cuffs. His shoes were polished, expensive. No tie. One thousand-watt smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

So Kendall and this guy had been an item? Jacob never would have put the two together. Her personality was too strong, too vibrant. She’d have eaten this guy for lunch. He could see a guy like this – the kind who thought he was hot shit – getting pissed that a woman like Kendall had dumped him.

‘Detective Warwick,’ Brett said, extending his hand. ‘Is there a problem?’

The receptionist had bowed her head but Warwick knew she wasn’t missing a bit of the conversation.

‘I have a few questions for you. Is there somewhere we could speak in private?’

‘Sure.’ He glanced at the receptionist, who had become very interested in a memo. ‘Sally, would you hold my calls?’

‘Sure, Mr Newington.’

Brett nodded and without a word turned and headed down a hallway. Jacob followed. The renovation had extended down the hallway, leaving behind the faint smell of new paint and carpet.

They passed by one office and Jacob noted the name Kendall Shaw on the door. An intern stopped Brett with a question right in front of her open door. Jacob glanced into her office and, like yesterday, was surprised the space was so small. Like everything else about Kendall, it was tasteful, discreet.

‘She wouldn’t take a bigger office,’ Brett said. He answered the intern’s question and it was just the two of them again. ‘She likes being close to the action.’

Jacob would have figured she’d have wanted all the bells and whistles that went with fame. He nodded and followed Brett into his corner office. This space was three times the size of Kendall’s. In the corner there was a small round conference table with three chairs around it and across the room Brett’s wide desk. It was glass, sleek, and covered with files and tapes. Certificates documenting Brett’s accolades covered white walls. The guy had had an impressive career.

Brett closed the door. He chose to sit behind his own massive desk instead of at the conference table. ‘Have a seat.’

Jacob sat across from Brett’s desk. If the guy thought a piece of furniture could intimidate him, he was wrong.

A collection of pictures on the credenza behind Brett stared back at him. One of the larger ones was of Kendall and Brett. Kendall stared directly at the camera, her smile brilliant. Brett was grinning but he wasn’t staring at the camera, but at Kendall. There was no missing the fact that the guy had a thing for her.

‘Nice picture,’ Jacob said. ‘When was it taken?’

Brett followed his gaze. ‘It was taken about five months ago, the night Kendall did her first broadcast as the evening anchor.’ Everyone around them in the photo held up champagne glasses.

Jacob remembered the broadcast. ‘Looks like it was a big party.’

‘It was. Convincing Kendall to join our anchor team was a huge coup. She cost me a small fortune, but she’s been worth it.’

Newington made Kendall sound like a prized mare.

‘How are your ratings?’

‘Never better. The public can’t get enough of Kendall. She’s a beautiful woman, if you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Hard not to.’

‘Between you and me, she’s high maintenance.’

The woman Jacob had seen yesterday seemed anything but high maintenance. She was smart and hardworking. ‘Really?’

Brett frowned. ‘It’s no secret that we dated once. I broke it off because she was calling me at all times of the night. It got very tiring after a while.’

The guy’s candor surprised Jacob. ‘That would have been last winter.’

‘Yes.’

‘Her mother was dying about that time.’

‘Yes.’

‘Seems natural a woman would call her boyfriend for support.’

He straightened. ‘Look, I tried to be sympathetic. I really did. But it got to be a terrible drain. I couldn’t work during the day because she’d had me up all night.’ He dropped his gaze and removed an imaginary piece of lint from his pants. ‘It might have been different if Mrs Shaw liked me. But she made it clear she wasn’t happy about me or the fact that Kendall was on television.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Mrs Shaw was an intensely private woman. There were times when I thought she wanted to keep Kendall all to herself. I tried to mention this to Kendall but she wouldn’t hear of it. She was very loyal to her mother.’

‘No other relatives?’

‘None. Frankly, it was her lack of family that appealed to me. My ex-wife had a shitload of relatives who were always getting between us.’ Brett sat back in his high-backed chair. ‘So what’s this about?’

‘Has Ms Shaw gotten any odd fan mail lately? E-mails or letters that didn’t sit right?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘She’s had a couple of e-mails. But that can be par for the course. The world is full of losers who think they know a TV personality. Why are you asking this?’

Jacob let the question slide. ‘Would you mind getting me copies? I’d like to look them over.’

Brett’s chair squeaked as he leaned forward. ‘Has Kendall reported some kind of threat? She should have come to me with a problem like that first.’

‘No threats.’

Brett checked his watch. ‘What’s the point of this conversation?’

‘Just following a train of thought. If you’ll get me those e-mails that should be it.’

Brett picked up his phone. ‘Can you make a CD of Kendall’s fan e-mail? Great. When? Right now.’ He winked at Jacob as if to say no problem.

Brett hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. ‘You ever consider granting an interview to Kendall on the Guardian killings from last summer?’

Jacob stiffened. He’d had the question often enough and had always refused. ‘Does Kendall want an interview?’

Brett dodged the question. ‘It’s still big news. We’d do a first-class job.’ The bastard’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. Jacob’s life had been gutted and Newington wanted to turn it into a show.

‘What does Kendall say?’ His voice was low, more like a growl.

‘So far she’s said no. She refuses to do the piece. She’s being hardheaded about it. But if you said yes, maybe she would say yes.’

Jacob’s body radiated menace. ‘No interview. Ever.’

Brett cleared his throat, surprised by the ferocity in Jacob’s voice. ‘Right.’

The secretary appeared in the doorway with a disk in her hand. ‘Mr Newington, I have those e-mails for you.’

Brett appeared relieved by her appearance. ‘Great.’ He took the disk, dismissed her, and handed it to Jacob.

Jacob pocketed the disk but didn’t trust his voice to speak.

Brett swallowed. ‘Well, you know your way out.’

‘Yeah, sure.’

Jacob made his way to the lobby. He paused at the receptionist’s desk. It was amazing what a receptionist knew about people in the office.

What was her name? Sally. ‘I bet Ms Shaw gets a lot of e-mail, Sally.’

The woman’s eyes perked up at the sound of her name. ‘She gets at least two marriage proposals a month from some fan.’

‘She must get a kick out of that.’

‘She tries to answer as many as she can.’

‘Any regulars sending her e-mail?’

‘I hear she’s got a few who e-mail her regularly.’

‘Is Ms Shaw dating anyone?’

The woman’s eyes took on a knowing look. ‘No.’

‘What about Newington?’

That question made her frown. She didn’t like the guy. ‘No.’

Jacob thought about the photo behind Brett’s desk of Brett and Kendall. The son of a bitch still had a thing for Kendall. ‘Thank you for your time.’

‘Sure, no problem.’

Jacob strode out of the building and climbed into his car. He thought about Brett’s request for a Guardian interview.

She’s being hardheaded about it.

Clearly Brett had put the pressure on Kendall to conduct one. But she’d refused.

Ironic. He’d felt so much damn guilt over her shooting, she would have been the one person who would have gotten a yes had she ever asked him for an interview.

He fired up the car engine.

His sense of obligation to Kendall deepened. If there were a nut out there threatening her, he’d do whatever it’d take to protect her.

Kendall was running late. After she’d found the letter last night, she’d been wired and figured she’d not sleep anymore. But just before dawn, she’d dozed off and hadn’t awakened until nine-thirty.

She clamped on a gold shackle bracelet as she hurried down the center staircase. She’d chosen a winter-white dress that accentuated her slim figure and set off her olive skin and dark hair. Along with the bracelet she wore matching gold earrings that dangled just a little.

She’d planned to leave the house by nine so she could swing by Serenity Family Services before work. It hadn’t been a part of her adoption but she wanted to talk to Carnie Winchester about performing a search. When Carnie had spoken to Nicole, she’d seemed to understand the ins and outs of the adoption maze, and Kendall realized this was an area where she’d need help.

But she had to hurry. She would have loved to devote the day to Carnie but it was just a matter of time before the cops would announce the name of the latest murder victim to the press and she wanted to be on hand to cover the announcement. She had sent another e-mail to the tipster who’d helped her with the White murder but there’d been no response.

The front doorbell rang. Her high heels clicked across the floor as she hurried to answer it. Through the oval window by the door, she saw her carpenter, Todd. A part of her was grateful he was there, so he could get closer to finishing up the job. Another part was already weary of having a stranger in her house. The sooner the job was completed, the better.

She snapped open the door. ‘Good morning.’

The man touched the bill of his ball cap. In his other hand he held a dented toolbox. ‘Morning, Ms Shaw.’

She braced against a cold gust of air and stepped to the side. ‘Come on in. You know the way to the kitchen.’

He grinned, wiped his feet, and came inside. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

She closed the door and rubbed her hands together. ‘So how is it going?’

‘Real well. I got the plumbing and wiring done for the new appliances and the cabinets will be here later today.’

‘So you’re on schedule?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘You’re an angel.’

The comment made him blush. ‘Just doing my job.’

She followed him as he headed toward the kitchen. ‘Believe me, a contractor who runs on time is a rare and wonderful thing.’ She stopped at the coat closet in the hallway, pulled out her white coat, and slipped it on. ‘So I’ll have new cabinets tonight?’

‘That you will.’

‘Great.’ She tied the coat’s belt into a knot. ‘I’ve got to leave early today. My roommate is still here but she’s up and awake.’

‘Good. I don’t like waking her. She needs all the sleep she can get. When is the little one due?’

‘Just a couple of weeks.’

‘She must be excited.’

‘She’s ready to have this baby born.’ She checked her watch. ‘I’ve got to run.’

‘Go on ahead.’

Just as she snapped up her purse her cell rang. Biting back an oath, she dug it out and pushed it open. ‘Kendall Shaw.’

Brett was on the other end. ‘Warwick was just here.’

Kendall smiled at Todd, turned, and moved toward the front door. ‘What did he want?’

‘He was asking questions about you. And any e-mails you received.’

That shocked her. She thought about the tipster’s text message. It wouldn’t be on the station’s server but would show on her phone records. Warwick’s tenacity could easily lead him to her cell records. ‘Why?’

‘That’s what I want to know.’

The two victims looked like her. She’d promised not to tell. And she wouldn’t, though it was the worst decision she could make as a reporter. ‘I have no idea what he was after.’

Kendall heard Brett close the door to his office. ‘I don’t like being treated like an outsider, Kendall. You aren’t telling me the whole truth.’

The emotion in Brett’s voice caught her off guard. ‘Why would I hold back?’

‘That’s what I’m wondering.’

Todd clanged open his toolbox and pulled out a wrench.

‘I don’t have time for this now. I’ll be at the office soon,’ she said.

‘Are you and Warwick dating?’

‘What?’ Her surprise was genuine. ‘No.’

A tense silence followed. ‘When you get to the office we need to talk. About us. And this time I’m going to do the talking.’ He sounded angry, frustrated. ‘We have a lot to iron out.’

Iron out? There was nothing left for them. She wasn’t sure if there had ever been anything between them. Aware Todd was in earshot, she bit back a retort. ‘See you later.’

‘Everything all right?’ Todd asked, poking his head around the side of the kitchen door.

Her heart pounded in her chest. The exchange had made her angry. ‘Yeah. It’s nothing.’ She grabbed her purse and smiled. ‘See you tomorrow.’

The cold air cooled her flushed cheeks the instant she stepped outside. She hurried to her car, started the engine, and pulled out of the garage. At this time of the morning, the heavy traffic of commuters had subsided, so the drive through the city took only minutes. She pulled up in front of the adoption agency, then drove to the parking lot behind the building and parked.

Kendall hurried up the brick front steps of the simple building and pushed through the front door. The directory in the foyer read SERENITY FAMILY SERVICES, ROOM 204. She dashed up the side stairs and down the second-floor hallway. She entered the suite.

No one was at the receptionist’s desk. She glanced to the two offices behind the desk, one open and one closed.

‘Hello? Kendall Shaw here.’

‘Come in.’ The voice came from the open door.

She peeked into the office. Behind the desk sat Carnie. She’d pulled her red hair into a ponytail. Soft curls framed her pale face and accentuated the freckles covering her slim nose. She wore a dark green turtleneck, black drop beaded earrings, and jeans. Smiling, she rose. There was a relaxed easiness about her that Kendall envied.

‘Carnie,’ Kendall said with a rush of relief.

‘Kendall Shaw.’

‘Thanks for agreeing to see me.’ She shrugged off her coat and draped it over her arm.

‘What can I do for you?’ She gestured toward a chair in front of her desk.

Kendall sat down and fearing she’d lose her nerve spoke quickly. ‘I wanted to talk to you about an adoption.’

Carnie nodded. ‘I can’t discuss anything about Nicole’s adoption plan.’

‘No. No. I understand that. This isn’t about Nicole. It’s about me.’

Patient green eyes focused on her. Waited.

Kendall moistened dry lips. ‘I want to talk about …’ Even now the words stuck in her throat. She sat a little straighter. ‘About my adoption.’

Carnie’s eyebrows rose. ‘What can I do to help you?’

Kendall tapped her foot. In the span of seconds, she felt disloyal to her mother and angry that the same woman had so completely hidden the truth of her past. She pulled the letter from her briefcase. ‘I found this in my mother’s paperwork.’ She handed the paper to Carnie.

She studied the paper. ‘What do you need from me?’

Her mouth felt dry. ‘I want to find out about my birth parents. Can you help me find them?’

Carnie sighed. ‘It’s not that simple.’

‘What do you mean? I’m over twenty-one.’ She hesitated. ‘My adoptive parents are dead. Why can’t you just point me in the right direction? Isn’t there someplace where these records are kept?’

Carnie sat back and set the letter on the pile of papers in the middle of her desk. ‘Your adoption was a closed adoption and it took place before nineteen eighty-nine.’

Impatience welled. ‘Okay.’

‘The search process is much more detailed in cases like yours.’

‘But they are my records. I have a right to know where I came from.’

Carnie kept her voice even, but the frown lines around her mouth deepened. ‘Hey, I’m on your side. I’m an adult adoptee and I’m searching for my birth family too. And for the record, I’ve been searching for three years.’

‘Three years.’ God, she couldn’t go three years of more dreams.

A bitter smile tipped the edge of Carnie’s full lips. ‘Don’t get me started.’

‘So what are you telling me, that it’s going to take years to find my family?’

‘Virginia has very clear laws about closed adoption searches. But that doesn’t mean all this is impossible. Who knows? You might get lucky and the search will go quickly.’

Kendall was good at masking her emotions. Anger or frustration could shut down an interview in a flash. She had to keep her cool. But it was a struggle to keep calm. ‘What do I do?’

Carnie looked truly sorry. ‘The search has to be done through the agency that placed you.’ She glanced at the paper. ‘Virginia Adoption Services. I know them. They had a fire in their building last fall. They lost a lot of paperwork and were forced to close their doors. I’ll have to do a little checking to see what records survived and whom they turned their records over to.’

‘Then what?’

‘The social worker who now has charge of your file will contact the birth parents, and if they are willing to meet or have contact, they will let the social worker know.’

‘And if they don’t want to see me?’

‘Then that’s the end of it.’ Carnie’s eyes softened. ‘There’s another wrinkle. If your birth parents have passed, then the search gets more complicated.’

Kendall leaned forward. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The social worker would have to determine if you have any siblings and if they are aware of the adoption. If they’re not, then the social worker can’t pass any information on to you.’

Resentment and desperation collided in her. ‘I need to know where I came from.’

Carnie pulled out a stack of forms. ‘I know. I know. It can be frustrating.’

‘My life feels like a movie. Like I’ve walked in the middle of the first act. Only what is happening now directly relates to the first moments of the movie.’

‘Look, let’s get the process started. See what happens. It may go faster than you think.’

Kendall pursed her lips. ‘Fine. Whatever.’

‘I’ll do what I can to help you.’

Kendall sighed. ‘Look, I know I’m being a bitch about this. And I do appreciate your help. I’m just frustrated.’

‘I understand.’

Kendall clenched her fists. ‘I can’t believe this is going to be so difficult.’

‘Did your mother have friends at the time of your adoption?’

Kendall shrugged. ‘I suppose. Why?’

‘The adoption process can be quite emotional for the adoptive parents. Often they confide in friends or family about what is happening.’

‘My mother wasn’t the chatty type.’

‘You’d be surprised how women talk when it comes to becoming a mother.’

Kendall’s heart raced at the possibility. She thought back to the photo album her mother had kept and remembered seeing a picture of a woman her mother had once been close friends with. ‘There was one woman.’ What was her name? Jenny somebody. Her name was in the album.

‘Start with her. In the meantime, I’ll track down the contact person who is now handling the agency’s records.’

Already her mind skipped ahead to finding this woman. She rose. ‘Carnie, thanks. I mean that.’

‘No sweat. Keep me posted, will you? I want to know how this goes for you.’

‘Sure.’ She paused. ‘No one knows that I’m adopted and I’d like to keep it that way for now.’

‘Of course.’

Kendall left Carnie’s office and drove straight back to her house. For so many years she’d pushed the thought of a search out of her mind and now it consumed her as if her life depended on it. As she waited for a light to change from red to green, she pushed open her cell phone and dialed Brett’s number. He picked up on the second ring.

‘Brett, it’s Kendall.’

‘Kendall. Where are you?’ He sounded annoyed. Typical.

‘It’s a long story, but I’m going to be late today. I’ll be back in time for the editorial meeting at two.’

He huffed into the phone. ‘Kendall, I need you here. The day is jam-packed.’

‘I edited the footage from the double murder story last night. My copy is written. If the police announce the name of the second victim call me. I’ll come back.’ No sense telling him she was sorry. She wasn’t.

‘This isn’t like you.’

No, it wasn’t. Work and deadlines had always come first for her. But she couldn’t explain to Brett that she needed to find her birth family. She needed to finally fill the hole that had been inside her for as long as she could remember. ‘Like I said, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

Brett’s voice dropped. ‘Are you with a guy?’

‘What?’ She would have laughed if not for the bite in his voice.

‘That cop who was here this morning. You’re seeing him, aren’t you?’ Anger hissed.

Her spine straightened. ‘Who I spend my time with is none of your business.’

‘It is if it impacts this station.’

She could picture him sitting at his desk staring out the window, his back to his office door. ‘The station isn’t going to fall apart because I’m a couple of hours late today.’

‘Get back to the station now, Kendall.’

‘I’ll be in soon.’

‘I hired you; I can fire you.’

She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. ‘My ratings are too good. You’d be a fool to fire me.’

‘Everyone’s replaceable.’

She gripped the phone. ‘You manipulative worm. How dare you threaten me. I’m good at what I do and the ratings went up because of me just as much as your advertising campaign.’

‘Don’t be so sure.’

‘I can leave Channel Ten and get picked up by another station.’ The money wouldn’t be as good, but she’d manage, even if she had to sell her house and move to another market. Of course, leaving Richmond now was not what she wanted. But pride kept her from backing down.

Brett was silent for a moment before he sighed into the phone. ‘Kendall, just come by the station. We need to talk. You’re making me nuts.’

A horn behind her blared and she realized the light had turned green. ‘I’ll see you at two and if that means you have to fire me, then so be it.’

She hung up, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and punched the gas. Anger roiled inside her. Her cell phone rang. She didn’t need to glance at the phone to know it was Brett. She turned off the phone and headed to her house. She parked in front and dashed up the front steps.

When she pushed through the front door of the house, a heavy haze of sawdust lingered in the air. A machine blared in the kitchen. Todd was sanding floors today. The cabinets were coming today. Todd was friendly and liked to chat, but she didn’t have the patience for small talk so she bypassed the kitchen and dashed upstairs to the second bedroom, where she kept the photo album tucked in a box under the bed.

She flipped the pages of the album until she found the picture of her mother and Jenny. The caption read Irene and Jenny Thornton celebrate their fortieth birthdays.

Kendall had forgotten that Irene and Jenny shared the same birthday. She moved to her bedside and pulled out a phone book. She scanned the T’s until she found Mrs Jennifer R. Thornton. Shoreham Drive.

She dialed the number. Her heart raced.

On the third ring the phone was picked up. ‘Hello.’ The woman’s voice was old, fragile.

Kendall cleared her throat. ‘I’m looking for Jenny Thornton. She was a friend of Irene Shaw.’

Silence followed. ‘Who is this?’

She gripped the phone. ‘This is Kendall. Irene’s daughter.’

‘Kendall. I haven’t seen you since you were a toddler.’ Running water from a tap in the background shut off.

Her throat felt dry. ‘I was wondering if I could come by and talk to you about Mom.’

‘Sure, honey, when?’

Emotion welled inside her. The hectic pace of these last few months had pushed thoughts of her mother from her mind. She’d almost thought she was immune to the grief. Now she realized she wasn’t. Her mom would be so disappointed if she knew about this search. She shoved the guilt aside. ‘Now.’

‘Sure. You come on by. I’d love to see you. My word, it’s been so long.’

The distance of the phone annoyed Kendall. She needed to see Mrs Thornton, look her in the eye when they spoke. ‘Thanks.’

Kendall hung up the phone and hurried down the stairs. Todd had turned off the sander, and when she reached for the front door he poked his head out of the kitchen. Sawdust covered his hair. ‘Ms Shaw. I thought you’d left for work.’

She forced a smile. ‘I forgot something. I was just heading back out.’

He nodded as he dug his hand into his pocket. ‘I found something I thought you might be interested in.’

‘Please don’t tell me you found rotted floorboards or a dead body behind the wall.’

He grinned. ‘Nothing so serious.’ He pulled a small mirror from his pocket. ‘Found this behind the wall.’

She crossed the hallway toward him and accepted the mirror. Trimmed in silver, it fit into her palm. The silver had tarnished and the glass had grown dull. It wasn’t an expensive piece but it possessed a charm. She turned it over and scrawled on the back was the initial E.

‘Where did you say you found this?’

‘It was behind the cabinets. Must have been put there when the last kitchen renovation was done.’

‘That would have been in the late fifties.’

He shoved worn, calloused hands through his dark graying hair. ‘Maybe. Likely some little girl tucked it away and then lost track of it.’

She turned the mirror over in her hands trying to imagine the owner. A flicker of a memory danced at the edge of her mind and then it was gone.

He took a step back. ‘Well, I best get back to work. And you look like you’re in a rush.’

She tore her gaze from the mirror. ‘Yeah. Thanks, Todd.’

‘Glad to help. And you’ll be glad to know that your cabinets are on schedule. I gave the manufacturer hell when he told me he was going to be late.’

The renovation had been so important to her just days ago and now it felt so unimportant. ‘Thanks.’

She tucked the mirror in her pocket and left him standing in the hallway. The cold morning air bit her skin as she dashed toward her car. Just in the last few minutes, the heat had dissipated and the interior was cold again.

She slid behind the wheel and fired up the engine. She glanced at her phone and saw that she’d missed two calls. She checked the numbers. Brett. For the first time since she’d taken the job as news anchor, she wondered if she’d made the right decision. Money and fame hadn’t satisfied her as she’d thought they would.

The muscles in Jacob’s lower back bunched painfully as he pushed through the doors of the conference room. The county’s four other homicide detectives were waiting when he strode in. At the head of the table was his boss, Sergeant David Ayden. To the right sat Zack and across from him sat Detectives Nick Vega and C.C. Ricker. Vega was a New York transplant who’d lived in Virginia fifteen years. Dark hair hinted at Hispanic heritage. C.C. had red, curly hair and an athlete’s short, compact body.

Jacob laid his folder on the table, opened it, and removed head shots of the two victims pre- and postmortem. He moved around the conference table to a dry-erase board, where he hung up the pictures with magnets.

Jackie and Vicky were from opposite ends of life. Jackie’s straight, conservative haircut contrasted with Vicky’s short, spiked hair with purple and red highlights. Vicky had painted her nails black and had six tattoos. Jackie had neatly trimmed nails, no polish, and no tats.

Still, the women shared stunning similarities. High cheekbones. The shape of their lips. And their vivid green eyes.

David sipped his coffee. ‘Do you think we have a serial killer?’

Leave it to him to voice the fear lurking in all their minds. ‘Before we go there let’s look at what we have so far,’ Jacob said.

David nodded. ‘Fair enough. I want my facts crystal clear when I go to the chief.’

‘Jackie White is our first victim. Thirty-eight. Separated. She and her husband fought a month before she died. Several of her neighbors heard the exchange. He left before anyone thought to call the cops. He had motive and opportunity. The last sighting of Jackie White was on a surveillance tape on Friday night. A man approaches her; then she vanishes from view.’

‘Is Phil White linked to the second victim?’ Nick asked.

‘No,’ Zack answered. ‘He has an airtight alibi for that murder. He was marrying his pregnant girlfriend in a church in Northern Virginia. There were twenty witnesses.’

A rumble of disapproval echoed in the room.

Jacob shuffled through the file in front of him. ‘Vicky Draper, age thirty-five. Did five years for drug trafficking. She’s been out of jail two years. Her motel room was chockful of prescription drugs. She was last seen on Friday morning. She and a friend of hers were drinking. She went out for more tequila and never came back.’

Jacob nodded toward the pictures. ‘Both women were strangled from behind. Both the bodies appear to have been kept in a sitting position before being moved. White’s lividity discoloration is more pronounced and suggests the killer kept her body longer.’

Zack took over. ‘Dr Butler believes the killer had very large, powerful hands. Both women’s larynxes were crushed. Both women had rope burns on their wrists and feet.’

‘We have victims who share similar facial features and they both were wearing identical charms,’ Jacob said. ‘Each charm was inscribed with a different name.’

Zack continued. ‘Gold, oval shaped with a name inscribed on them. ‘Ruth’ on White and ‘Judith’ on Draper.’ His gaze settled on Vega and Ricker. ‘Anything on the necklaces?’

Nick drew circles on the legal pad in front of him. ‘Nothing. We’ve hit at least thirty jewelry stores. No one knows anything. We’ve got detectives in robbery scanning the Net and checking pawnshops as well.’

David tapped his pencil on the edge of his legal pad. ‘So how is he choosing his victims?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ Jacob said.

‘Ruth and Judith are women in the Bible,’ Nick offered.

David pressed his fist to the spot above his right eye as if he had a headache forming. ‘So we have a religious freak on our hands?’

‘My Bible is lacking,’ Jacob said. ‘What else can you tell us about these two women – Ruth and Judith. I mean the ones in the Bible.’

Nick shrugged. ‘Both very virtuous. Ruth stayed with her mother-in-law during a great famine. And Judith was a bit of a warrior who helped save her people from the enemy.’

C.C. folded her arms. ‘I’m impressed, Nick.’

He shrugged. ‘Thank Sister Mary Margaret, my Sunday school teacher in the third grade. She made us memorize a good bit of the Bible.’

‘It’s not only the mode of murder but the charms that link these killings,’ Jacob said.

‘Which brings us back to the Bible theory,’ David said.

A headache throbbed behind Jacob’s eyes. ‘Maybe. But I don’t think so.’ He flipped through the pages of his file.

‘Why?’ David challenged.

Jacob tapped his finger on his thigh. The Bible theory looked good on paper but his gut told him it wasn’t the key to this case. ‘I don’t know.’

David arched a brow. ‘Did these women grow up near each other?’

C.C. rechecked her notes. ‘No. Jackie was an only child. She went to VCU and got a degree in teaching. Her parents were older. Both passed about eight years ago. Vicky was a foster kid. She bounced around a lot but never could be placed. Trouble from day one.’

Two unrelated backgrounds.

Jacob tapped his thumb on the table. The killer saw something in these women that had attracted him to them. Was it simply the brown hair and similar facial features?

David tapped his thumb on the file. ‘Send a report to ViCap and CODIS. Let’s see if our guy did this thing somewhere else.’

‘I did that last night,’ Jacob said.

‘Good. These killers don’t always just pop up out of nowhere. Often killing is the last step in a string of events.’

It was early afternoon when Nicole sat in Carnie Winchester’s office and flipped through the pages of the prospective parents. The couples all looked so happy. The descriptions all conveyed their palpable desire for a child.

All were quite capable of giving her child a good home.

She’d narrowed her list down to three couples. She couldn’t put into words how she’d narrowed the search. She just knew.

The Latimers. The Davidsons. And the Snyders. They all lived in Richmond. All spoke of love, quality parenting, stable marriages, and nice homes. The Latimers had a son, Billy, who was eighteen months old. The Snyders owned a jewelry shop. The Davidsons had a golden retriever.

They were all perfect.

So why did she feel more frightened than she did when she first walked in here?

Nicole cupped her hand under her belly and rose. She crossed the room and moved to the picture window. Frost covered the glass. The sky was gray and it looked like the city would get more snow.

The baby kicked as if to remind Nicole that she was waiting for her to make a decision.

The door opened. Carnie stood in the doorway. She held two cups of tea. ‘I thought you could use a break.’

Nicole’s shoulders sagged with relief. ‘I wish that would solve all my problems.’

Carnie closed the door. The two women met halfway and Nicole accepted the hot cup of tea. Decaf. Herb. Just as she’d asked for the other day. Carnie had remembered.

‘So have you made any progress?’ Carnie always kept her voice light and soothing.

‘I’ve narrowed the pile to three.’

‘May I look?’

‘Sure.’

Carnie sat on the couch, sipped her tea as she stared at the profiles. She nodded. ‘They’re all very good families. They all desperately want a child.’

‘I can see that.’ Nicole faced the window. ‘Then why can’t I choose one?’

‘It’s a big decision, Nicole. Maybe the biggest you’ll make in your life.’

‘I’m paralyzed, Carnie. I’ve always been able to make decisions. Now I can hardly decide which pair of shoes to wear, let alone who should raise my child.’

‘This situation is difficult even in the best of times. Toss in a bucket of hormones and it’s that much harder. Ease up on yourself.’

‘Do you have kids?’

A bit of light faded from her eyes. ‘No.’ She sighed. ‘As I told you, I’m adopted. My past is a huge mystery. Having a baby just feels like genetic roulette to me.’ She offered a wan smile. ‘It was a big issue for my husband and I. He wanted lots of kids. We divorced over it.’

Nicole’s back ached and her breasts felt like melons. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think my baby will feel this way?’

‘My adoption was closed. Yours is going to be an open adoption. Your baby will know how to find you. My guess is that you’ll be good with sharing information when the time comes.’

Nicole smoothed her hand over her belly. ‘Of course.’

Carnie studied Nicole. ‘Can you tell me about your baby’s father?’

Nicole stiffened. Even now, talking about Richard sent a bolt of fear through her. He was dead, couldn’t hurt her. But an illogical part of her brain whispered that he could somehow return from the grave and harm her. ‘I figured you read the papers last summer.’

‘I did. But I want to hear it from you.’

Nicole straightened, annoyed at her fear. ‘My husband, Richard, was the most romantic man I’d ever met when he first strolled into my photography studio. So charming. So handsome. So funny.’

She dropped her gaze to her thumbnail and studied the rough cuticles. Richard would have been furious if he had seen her right now. For an instant, fear tightened her chest and she had to remind herself that he was dead. Gone.

‘After we married everything slowly started to change. He started monitoring my cell phone calls and e-mails. He’d drop in at work and insist I have lunch with him. And then he began hitting me.’

Carnie traced the rim of her cup. ‘I’m sorry.’

So was she. ‘He started to hit me more and more. The last time was the worst. He …’ She stopped, still not able to put the event into words. Counseling had helped enough that she could say the word. ‘He raped me. The baby was conceived then.’

Carnie’s face tightened with sadness. ‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.’

‘I ran here to Richmond. I moved in with my friend Lindsay O’Neil and she hid me. The rest was covered by the papers. Richard found us. Nearly killed Lindsay.’ Nicole’s heart rate quickened. The baby kicked. ‘So here I am unable to love the child growing in my belly.’

‘You can’t say that you don’t love this baby. You’re bringing it into the world. You’re seeing a doctor and you want the best for the child. You’re more maternal than you realize.’

‘So why do I just want this damn pregnancy over with? I want my career to get restarted. I want my life back!’

Carnie smiled. ‘That’s very normal, Nicole. My partner is pregnant with her fourth, and she’s ready to jump out of her skin. All she can talk about is seeing her toes again and sleeping on her stomach.’

‘So I’m normal?’

‘You’re very normal.’

The tension eased from her chest and she was able to sip her tea. ‘Thanks, Carnie.’ She glanced at the profiles, still not ready to decide.

‘Sleep on it. Another day or two won’t matter.’

That made her feel better. ‘Thanks.’ She checked her watch. ‘I’ve got to run. I have an appointment to take pictures of a couple and their dog. All three are wearing matching red sweaters.’

Carnie laughed. ‘Sure.’

Nicole grabbed her coat and purse and headed out. When she stepped out the front door, the cold hit her across the face. She turned up her collar and fished her keys out of her pocket. She hurried down the sidewalk and climbed into her car. Breath puffed from her mouth. She stuck the key in the ignition and turned on the engine. Then she turned the heat on full blast. For several minutes it blew cold air. Her toes felt numb. She glanced in her rearview mirror. Someone had written a message on her back windshield. The roughly scrawled letters were backward and hard to read. She got out and waddled around to the back of the car.

Written in the frost was Hi.

Most likely a kid had written it. Much like ‘Wash Me’ or some other nonsensical statement.

But it reminded her of something Richard would do in the early days. A simple gesture that no one but her would ever see as a threat. It had been his way of letting her know he was following her. Tracking her.

A chill passed down her spine. She stared at the word until the back window defroster melted it from sight.

Allen sat at the small workbench. An overhead light shone down on the large magnifying glass. He rubbed his dry eyes and stared at the tiny gold oval pendant. With engraver’s tools, he carefully started to write the first letter. He added an extra swirl to the R, paying close attention to the loop at the end of the letter. His engraving skills were expert.

His first charms, way back in the beginning, had been crude and sloppy. Like a child’s. But he’d been a child in so many respects then. It had taken years to hone his skills. He’d started preparing for this moment in Alaska, the frozen land where he’d fled to so long ago to escape the demons. He’d thought that up there he could begin anew. But the demons had followed.

The first woman in Anchorage who had caught his attention had flowing black hair like Her. The woman had been a waitress. The first hint of winter – Termination Dust, snow on the distant mountains that encased the city around the bay – had arrived. The wind had been blowing and the air possessed a chill like nothing he’d felt before.

For one moment he’d stopped short, his breath frozen in his chest as he’d watched her. The hair had reminded him of the woman he’d loved and despised.

The woman’s skin wasn’t smooth or pale. It was olive and pockmarked. And she didn’t smell like fresh peaches, but of old cooking grease.

But her hair had captivated him. It had allowed him to pretend that she was someone else.

After he’d paid for his meal he’d waited across the street in the cold for her shift to end. He’d waited for nearly three hours.

When she emerged bundled in a parka and smoking a cigarette, he had watched her move down the street to a lot where her car was parked.

She was unlocking the door to her beat-up VW Bug when she’d seen him. He’d smiled, slid his trembling hands into his pants pockets.

Pale moonlight had washed over her face. ‘Who are you?’

‘Sorry,’ he’d said, careful to keep his body relaxed. ‘I saw you in the restaurant. Waiting tables. I thought you were someone I knew.’

She’d frowned her distrust. ‘I don’t know you.’

His gaze had slid to her slim neck, where he imagined he saw the throb of her pulse in the hollow. ‘My name is Jack.’ That had been a lie. He’d not given his real name in so long. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

Allen had kept his posture relaxed and dropped his gaze before raising it again. He’d wanted her relaxed so he could get closer. He’d just wanted to touch the soft skin of her neck.

The woman had remained suspicious. She’d unlocked her car door and tossed her purse inside. ‘It’s fine. Have a good night.’

She’d started to lower herself into the front seat. He’d clenched his fists in his pockets. He hadn’t wanted her to leave. Not yet. ‘Hey, can you suggest a good place to stay tonight? Someplace not too expensive.’

She’d shrugged. ‘There’s a motel at the edge of the city. It’s called Trail’s End. Low prices. Fairly clean.’

He’d edged a few steps closer. ‘Thanks. Now, which way do I head out the main road to get there? I still get turned around here.’

Impatience had darkened her eyes. She’d gotten in the car and closed the door. Dismissing him. Rejecting him. An old rage that had lain dormant inside him had flickered and caught fire. In seconds, it had rumbled inside him.

She’d fumbled for her ignition key.

He’d forced a smile and knocked on the glass. To keep her calm, he’d stepped back.

‘Hey, I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but I still don’t know how to get there from here.’

She’d rolled down the window, feeling more relaxed now that she had the car to protect her. ‘Just follow this road. You can’t miss it.’

‘Right, thanks.’ He’d watched as she turned her attention to the keys in her hand.

Bitch. How dare she? He was trying to be nice.

With her attention distracted, he’d lunged toward the car and grabbed hold of her neck, her pulse throbbing under his calloused fingers.

Her gaze had shot up to him, panic glistening. A surge of desire had shot through him and he’d squeezed harder. She’d dropped her keys and reached up to his hand trying to pry his hands from her neck and clawing at his skin.

The pain had pissed him off and he’d squeezed harder, making her cough. Tears had rolled down her face. He’d never felt more powerful than he did at that moment. Then the life had drained from her eyes.

She’d passed out. He’d opened her door and lifted her out of the car. He’d put her in the back bed of his truck and covered her with a tarp before driving back to his place in the woods.

For sixty-two days he’d kept her. Those had been good times. And then the day had come to send her home. He’d strangled her and left her body in the woods for the animals.

Allen’s mind refocused on the charm in front of him. The engraver’s tools shook in his unsteady hands. Even now the memory had the power to excite him.

He blinked and stared through the magnifying glass at the charm. He drew in deep breaths and tried to calm himself, but he couldn’t. His hands weren’t steady enough to finish the work tonight.

‘It’s okay. There’s still time. No rush.’

He studied the R. He smiled.

‘Rachel isn’t going anywhere.’