"So he has mommy issues," Panetta said, obviously irritated.

"Everyone has mommy issues," Lucy countered. "I didn't say it was an excuse to kill."

They left the small conference room and went next door. A one-way mirror showed Dennis Barnett with his attorney. Dennis was wide-eyed and curious. Maybe a bit scared, but more interested in the room. His attorney was older and dressed in a suit. He didn't look happy.

Lucy focused on Dennis. He was broad-shouldered and muscular. He had blue eyes and an inquisitive childlike gaze. He also fidgeted.

He turned around to look behind him, at the blank wall, and Lucy had a flash of recognition. She stopped Panetta from opening the door.

The detective looked at her, irritated. He hadn't liked her a.s.sessment, he was old-school-the "psychobabble" wouldn't appeal to his investigative approach.

"Suzanne, where's the witness drawing?" Without waiting for her response, Lucy riffled through her file folders until she found a copy.

"It's him. His profile."

Suzanne looked at the drawing, then at Dennis Barnett. "I didn't see it at first, but I think you're right."

Panetta walked over and frowned. "I didn't see it either, but it's the profile. But everything is a bit exaggerated in the picture."

Lucy agreed. "He looks mean in the drawing, but not sitting in the room. He appears harmless now."

"It was done from an older memory," Suzanne said. "Unless the witness views a lineup and identifies him, I don't think we'll be able to use it."

Until now, Lucy hadn't believed that Dennis Barnett was guilty. She was certain that the killer was obsessed with Wade Barnett, either an ex-girlfriend or someone who knew him well, such as a secretary.

She was wrong. How many other things had she been wrong about? Why was she even here in the first place?

She sent Sean a message.

I was wrong. The man the witness drew with Alanna Andrews the night she was killed is Dennis Barnett.

Sean considered breaking into Charles Barnett's Brooklyn Heights penthouse apartment a challenge. It was a secure building with state-of-the-art locks, a doorman, and a security camera. But it was still just a place, and Sean had never yet been defeated by a building, or a computer system.

It took less than ten minutes to a.s.sess the best approach to breaching the twelve-story building, then one minute to bypa.s.s the electronic lock that led to the parking garage under the building.

He smiled as he drove his GT into the structure and parked in 12A, Charles Barnett's empty slot. He was in Europe, Wade Barnett was still at Rikers, and by now, the FBI would be interviewing Dennis Barnett. The apartment should be empty.

Once he was upstairs, Sean picked the lock of Barnett's apartment and slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind him. He had left his gun in his trunk-on the off chance that someone was living in Barnett's apartment, Sean might be able to talk himself out of an arrest for breaking and entering, but not if he was armed. Still, if his hunch was right, no one would be there.

He listened for any hint that someone was in the apartment, but it was dead silent. The place was tidy but not immaculate. There were a few gla.s.ses on the counter in the kitchen, the kitchen chairs weren't pushed in, and the cushions on the couch weren't aligned. It didn't necessarily mean anything.

But even through the steady drizzle, Sean could see the Brooklyn Bridge outside the picture windows.

There were three bedrooms. One was small and appeared unused. The second had a hastily made bed, the dresser littered with coins and crumpled dollars. Sean went through the items and found a receipt from Abercrombie & Fitch for $310.07. The credit card was in the name of Dennis Barnett.

He'd brought the tag from Kirsten's shirt with him. It, too, was from Abercrombie & Fitch, and he compared the item number to the receipt.

Match.

Dennis had bought her two pairs of sweatpants, a sweater, two shirts, and four pairs of underwear. Sean searched the bedroom and found no other clothing from the receipt.

He then went to the master bedroom and knew this was where Kirsten had stayed for five days.

The bed had been stripped and made, but the dirty bloodstained sheets were in the hamper. b.l.o.o.d.y bandages were in the bathroom garbage, and supplies from a local pharmacy were spread out on the nightstand: gauze, bandage tape, topical antibiotics, pain relievers.

Sean went to the den and booted up the computer. He looked through the browser history and saw that Kirsten had definitely sent the message from this computer on Thursday morning.

He stared out the window as he put together the final pieces of the puzzle. Dennis Barnett had been caring for Kirsten here in this apartment. Why had he not taken her to the hospital when it was clear that she was very sick? Had she convinced him that someone was trying to kill her? Or had she gradually gotten worse, leaving him with no choice?

Did Wade Barnett know? And if he did, why hadn't he gone to the police or the hospital? What was he trying to hide?

Sean didn't have all the answers, but if Dennis Barnett had gone out of his way to bring Kirsten home from the party, nurse her, then leave her at the church when he couldn't care for her any longer, he didn't see how he could coldly kill five other young women.

He sent Lucy a message detailing what he'd found, letting her reach her own conclusions.

He saw her message about the man in the drawing being Dennis Barnett. What had the artist said? That she'd seen someone with Alanna the night she died. Dennis Barnett already admitted to being a driver to the parties that his brother attended; it didn't mean he'd killed Alanna.

Sean sat back down at Charles Barnett's computer and logged on to the secure RCK East server to access the Party Girl website that Patrick rebuilt. But Patrick had taken it one step further: He'd created an index of all content, including all registered users.

He scanned the list of registered users for any name that might be Wade Barnett. Most people used something familiar to them, something that was part of their personal ident.i.ty. He clicked through a couple of promising names; neither of them was Wade Barnett.

Then he found what he was looking for near the end of the alphabetical list.

YankeeFan00 He clicked through and smiled. While it didn't have Wade Barnett's photograph, it had two important pointers: He'd posted that he was a twenty-six-year-old preservationist from New York.

And among his friends were Erica Ripley, Heather Garcia, Jessica Bell, and Kirsten Benton, all under false names, but all with their real images.

He sent the data to Lucy and Suzanne, logged off the RCK site, and wiped memory of the visit from the computer while leaving all else intact, then left.

In his car, he called FBI agent Noah Armstrong. He and Noah didn't see eye to eye on everything, but Noah had vouched for him with Suzanne Madeaux.

He needed someone with the clout to get him into Rikers Island.

TWENTY-NINE.

After fifteen minutes of relatively softball questions, Dennis Barnett was becoming confused and agitated. Lucy didn't think it was because of guilt. Dennis had been eager to help at the beginning, but he didn't understand why the questions were about him.

Suzanne asked for the third time, "And how did that make you feel when Wade's girlfriend called you a dumba.s.s?"

Dennis frowned. "I'm slow, not stupid. You asked me that."

"I'm trying to understand your feelings."

"No you're not. You're trying to make me feel bad."

Panetta said, "Why would we want to make you feel bad? Unless you have something to feel bad about?"

Dennis looked at his lawyer. "You said we were coming here to help Wade."

"We are here to help Wade," the lawyer said. "That's why you need to tell these officers the truth."

Lucy's instincts started buzzing. The lawyer had to know that Dennis was a suspect; had he not told him? Or had Dennis not understood?

Suzanne noticed the same thing and said, "Dennis, another young woman was killed last night."

He frowned.

"I'd like to show you her picture. It would help if you tell us if you know her or have seen her anywhere."

He nodded.

Suzanne showed him Sierra Hinkle's driver's-license photo. Lucy watched his face closely. It was completely blank, except for his forehead, which was crinkled in concentration.

"I don't know her."

Suzanne then showed him Jessica Bell.

He stared and bit his thumbnail. "If I saw her, is that going to get Wade in trouble?"

"If you lie, Wade will get in trouble," Lucy said. She'd been quiet most of the interview, but she sensed a turn in Dennis's demeanor.

The lawyer broke the moment. "I don't understand this line of questioning."

Suzanne said, "And I don't understand who you're working for, Dennis, or someone else."

Lucy focused on Dennis and said, "Dennis, do you know why Wade is in jail right now?"

"Because she"-he looked at Suzanne with a childish expression of anger-"thinks he hurt Alanna."

"Actually," Lucy said, "we don't know who hurt Alanna." She felt Panetta turn his gaze to her. He was not happy. "Wade is in jail because he lied to Agent Madeaux. Did you know that lying to the FBI is a crime?"

He nodded. "She told me."

"It's true. If you lie and we can prove it, then you will have to go to jail, too. I like you, Dennis. I don't want you to go to jail."

"I don't want to go to jail." He looked at Jessica's picture. "That's Jenna."

"Jenna?" Suzanne said. "How do you know her?"

"I stay with Wade sometimes. She was talking on his computer."

"Talking?" Suzanne prompted.

Dennis turned bright red and whispered, "She was naked. Wade didn't see me come in at first. Then he got mad and yelled at me."

Panetta steered the conversation away from that angle and asked, "Were you mad at Jenna?"

"No, I-"

"Because I would be," Panetta said.

Lucy wanted to shut the detective down. Dennis was getting agitated again, and it was because he was embarra.s.sed, not because he killed her.

"I wasn't mad at anyone. Wade told me to knock from then on, and I said the door was open, and then he just turned off the computer. That was a long time ago. Last summer."

Suzanne put the pictures of Erica Ripley and Heather Garcia in front of Dennis. "What about these two? Do you know them?"

He pointed to Heather. "I don't know her. But that's Erica. She works at the Java Central coffeehouse. She came with us to a party once, but-" He frowned, thinking.

"What party?"

"It was real hot. Labor Day weekend and I wanted to go to Martha's Vineyard with Charlie, but Wade wanted me to drive him to a party. He just lost his license because he was drinking. He said I was the only one he trusted. So we went. He made me come in because it was too hot to sit in the car. I did not like it. It was so loud my head hurt. And Wade was drinking, and he gets stupid when he drinks."

"Who says that?" Lucy asked him.

"Charlie. It's why Wade lost his license. Charlie said, 'You deserve it, you get stupid when you drink.' "

"What stupid thing did Wade do that night?" Suzanne asked.

"Lots of them. He wanted me to have s.e.x with a girl I never met before and I didn't want to. Alanna was mad at him about that. Then he hurt Alanna's feelings because he brought Erica to the party. She said, 'I don't care if you f.u.c.k around here, but don't bring it home.' "

Lucy wondered if Dennis had an eidetic memory, or at least an enhanced auditory memory.

Suzanne prompted, "You told me earlier that Wade and Alanna broke up. But they went to a Yankees game together after that party."

"They broke up, then Wade said he was sorry and gave her the tickets. She said, 'This is your last chance.' Charlie said it would never work out because they had an open relationship."

"Do you know what an open relationship is?" Lucy asked.

"When you have a girlfriend but still have s.e.x with other girls."

"And after the Yankees game?" Suzanne asked.

"I don't know what happened. But Wade was real upset about it and said he f.u.c.ked up again."

Panetta asked, "Were you mad at Alanna?"

Dennis shook his head. "She was nice to me."

"Was Erica nice to you?" Lucy asked.

Dennis shrugged. "Sometimes."