Patrick Rossum was a good kid, even though he had decided to skip classes today in his eighth grade year. Head only ever done it twice before, and that was when he and his dad went fishing. He walked along the trail he knew so well in the woods head grown up in, just outside Woodland. He used the walking stick his grandfather had whittled from a fallen log, and had used for years in his hiking and fishing expeditions. The 11 year old boy had been overjoyed when it was passed down to him after the death of his granddad.

He stopped, snatching the sandwich his mom had prepared for him that morning, expecting him to eat it in the cafeteria of Woodland Middle School. He grinned as he took a mighty bite of the peanut and peach jelly sandwich, cut in half, just as he liked it. His friends made fun of him because his mom still made his lunch, and he didnat eat the lunch the school provided. He shirked it off. He loved his momas PB&J. Even when he made them himself, he could never make them as good.

He hacked at a couple clumps of wild flowers with his stick, the tip hitting something hard. Figuring it to be a rock, he kept going, munching contentedly as he enjoyed the crisp day. The frosting from the other day had melted, but from the looks of the sky and the smell of moisture in the air, Patrick figured they were due for their first good storm. Halloween was a week away, and that was typically when they got hit hard for the first time.

Patrickas thoughts died to a dull roar in the back of his mind as he caught sight of something just up ahead, partially sticking out from underneath the dirt. Curious, he tapped his way toward it, using the end of the stick to push away some fallen branches.

The freckles on Patrickas cheeks stood in stark relief to the paleness of his face, his blue eyes widening to the size of saucers. Suddenly he wished he were sitting in Mr. Alfredoas English class.

A half-eaten peanut butter and peach jelly sandwich landed in a pile of dry leaves.

Roman walked along the sidewalks of downtown, headed from where head parked his car, two blocks away from the coffee shop, where he was due to begin working in seven minutes. Hands shoved into his heavy winter jacket, he was startled as a small army of police cars whizzed by, not one of them with a siren on. The police station was just down the street at the corner, so he wasnat surprised He was, however, surprised by the sheer numbers: one

two.

three, four, five six. Next came a van marked Coroner.

aOh, that canat be good,a he muttered, turning into the recessed doorway of the coffee shop, and pushing against the wood and glass door. Instantly strong fragrances met his senses, as well as the well-heated shop. A few patrons sat around, drinking some sort of concoction or eating the scrumptious offerings, all homemade. Roman was pleased to see Remmy sitting near the window, though Matt Wilson sat across from her. He now recognized the guy from the newspaper articles about his sister. Remmy grinned and gave him a small wave upon noticing Roman. He waved back, then ducked into the backroom to get ready to begin his shift.

aThis one is of my son, Skylar, and Julie. Thatas Bonnie in her lap,a Matt said, pointing to the Yorkie curled up in the snapshot. Remmy took the picture in her fingers, bringing it up to study it. She studied the boyas face, smiling in response to his huge grin and happy eyes, directed at his aunt.

aTheyare close?a she asked absently, feeling the love bounce off the boy in the picture. It didnat take a psychic to see that.

aVery. Half the time I was surprised Julie brought him back at all, when shead take him for a weekend or for the week.a Matt smiled, pride in his eyes as he watched Remmyas reaction to his son.

aOkay. Show me more.a Matt had been against letting Remmy roam around his sisteras house, especially with whatas happened. For him, it still held Julieas energy, and he couldnat bear to have that interrupted with someone else. Understanding and compassionate, Remmy had suggested pictures, showing her in vivid detail what meant the most to Julie Wilson.

aThis was Christmas last year.a Matt chuckled aYou shouldave seen the look on her face when I threw that snowball,a he tapped the glossy that his son had snapped. Julie stood in shock, the remnants of the snow still clinging to her cheek. Her green eyes were wide with disbelief.

Remmy smiled, able to feel the shocked cold that had traveled through the womanas body at that moment. As she reached out for the print, she shivered, the photo paper seeming to be about thirty degrees in temperature. Her fingertips actually burned from the intense cold.

Matt watched the woman sitting across from his closely. He wasnat sure what to make of her. She had the oddest reactions to things, almost literally responding or reacting to what was in the picture presented before her. She seemed to believe so strongly that Julie was alive. Though he wanted with everything in him to believe her, that his sister was alive, and would be found, the realist in him just couldnat hold on to that kind of hope. He feared in the end, when it came out that Julie had in fact been dead all along, the disappointment would kill him.

He had recently taken Skylar to a therapist to try and help the 8 year old understand what had likely happened to his beloved aunt. The boy had taken it hard, and was shattered. It wasnat lost on him that aboth his mommiesa had left him. It was an uphill struggle every day, but Matt was determined to help him get through it. If only he could get through it, himself.

Brian Wong chewed casually on a piece of Big Red as he looked down at the discovery at his Wing-tipped feet. He had to admit, it was pretty gruesome. The body had been dismembered, the head found in a thicket of wild flowers, a goodly amount of the skin gone, either from decomposition or some sort of chemical that helped it along. Further along the trail, half-buried, an arm had been found, hand still attacked, fingertips missing. The arm was in the same condition as the head.

aMore over here!a one of the officers called out, his voice echoing in the calm forest.

The detective made his way over, latex-covered hands shoved into the roomy pockets of his pants. He stepped across the yellow tape barrier two officers were setting up, declaring it as officially a crime scene. The newest find was the most grisly of all-a womanas torso, amputated just above the hips. Many of the ribs could be seen, a massive hole in her stomach where the scavengers of the forest feasted.

The officer, a young rookie just out of the academy, stood looking down at the mess, a cloth held to his mouth and nose.

aYou get used to it,a Wong muttered, squatting down beside the torso. The Asian man glanced over his shoulder when he heard footsteps in the foliage. Grace Cowan soon emerged around the small crops of trees between this and the arm. He turned his attention back to the torso.

aThey found the rest about a half mile to the west,a she said, standing just behind her partner and looking over his shoulder at the find. Brian Wong nodded, standing. Both detectives stepped out of the way as the department photographer stepped in, snapping the body from every direction and angle. aWhatas Dave say?a Grace asked, speaking of the ME.

Brian sighed, looking up into the heavy clouds, pregnant with cold and moisture. aHavenat spoken to him, yet.a He met his partneras tired eyes. aLooks to me, though like maybe some sort of solvent was used. Dunno, just doesnat feel like typical decomposition here. I mean, look,a he said, pointing toward the torso. aThereas been critter activity, but it just feels too fresh, somehow.a Grace nodded. aI agree. Has anything else been found? Personal items?a aNope. Nothing. Just this,a Brian said, indicating the torso at their feet.

Back at her office, Grace scanned through any reports of recent missing persons, other than the known cases. The thought was that perhaps the woman was Cameron Sanchez, but that had been discounted when the family was asked if Cameron had a tattoo on her hip. She did not. Back to square one.

The Jane Doeas fingertips had been removed, so no fingerprinting could be done, and they had no one to compare dental to. aShit,a Grace said, running a hand over her hair, smoothed back into a tight bun. The patterns on the remaining skin did not match natural decomposition at all, especially with the cold temperatures, so it was decided something had been used-an acid, lye, something-to speed along the disintegration of the body. That made things harder, because now they would have a much more difficult time figuring out how long the body had been there. Also, with the cold weather, it kept the flies away, which meant the fly larvae couldnat even be used to gauge the time.

Grace glanced up, looking into the faces of her four missing women, one already taken out of the possible mix. That left Pamela Beecham, Roxie Carmichael and Julie Wilson as possibles. Pulling the files on the three women for the twentieth time, she read up on them, trying to see if anything would jump out at her.

What am I missing? she asked herself over and over again.

Chapter 18.

aHoney, Iam home!a Sergio called out, amused at his own joke as he entered into the kitchen from the garage door. He glanced around, brows narrowed as he studied everything-nothing out of place, everything exactly as head left it. He passed by the fridge, absently straightening one of the plastic, magnetic letters that had become slightly askew. He was about to pass the appliance, but then stopped, opening the door and grabbing a bottled water and a beer for himself.

Passing into the living room, Sergio was satisfied that all was well in that room, too. The furniture, covered in plastic, sprayed down with 409 the night before, was perfect. Above the love seat, stacked neatly on shelving, were stacks of building blocks, the type a child would enjoy with colorful letters or numbers on all four sides. They were the wooden kind, not the cheap plastic that were sold now. On the other wall, above the 19a television, was another shelf. On it were neatly stacked rows of TV Guides, dating back more than six years.

Walking down the hall toward the bedrooms, he passed the first two-one on his right the other on his left-a bathroom on the right, then straight back was the third bedroom, his bedroom. Before he even crossed the threshold, he could hear soft, even breathing, which automatically brought a smile to his face. Nothing was changed in the bedroom, alls well. Julie slept peacefully on the bed, just as head left her.

Sergio wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell of female blood and urine. It had been wise, indeed to leave her with the diaper. He took in the sprawled body of his prize, Julie, and decided she needed a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, Julie was being led back to the bed by the arm. The thought of lying down again made her feel nauseous. Shead almost rather go back down to the pit.

aUm,a she said softly. She made herself look into his dark eyes. aYou mentioned dinner.a She swallowed heavily so very afraid of the man who had a tight grip on her. aIs it possible that maybe, well, maybe I could eat with you? In the kitchen, or something?a She held her breath, so afraid of what head say or do. She tried not to sway on her feet, but the lack of food was catching up to her. Julie did everything in her power to not wince as he raised a hand, brushing her cheek with his fingertips.

aDo you want to sit down, or change of scenery?a he asked.

Julieas mind raced, trying to figure out what was the right answer. She swallowed reflexively as his fingers trailed down across her throat. A quick image of that same hand on Roxieas throat came unbidden to her mind. Apparently the look on her face expressed such. She felt a cold sweat break out on her skin as his face hardened.

aI told you it was an accident,a he growled, forcing her back to the bed, falling with her until she was pinned beneath his body. He was in her face, the hand still firmly attached to her throat, though not squeezing. aJudge not lest ye be judged,a he hissed, a bit of spittle landing on her cheek.

aIam sorry,a she whispered, hoarse from fear.

Sergio was breathing hard, his anger and heart rate pounding in his head. He looked down into the green eyes, seeing the fear within them. Moisture began to well up in them, Julie valiantly trying to hold it in. A surge of warmth spread over him, compassion lightening his touch back into a caress. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss to her forehead, trying to soothe her.

aYou eat in here today,a he whispered in her ear. aWeall talk about the kitchen later.a Julie didnat struggle as she was bound to the bed again, her tears finally falling as he strode from the room.

Taking a deep breath, Grace entered the interview room. She dreaded this. Placing the file she had tucked under her am onto the small, square table, she smiled at the two men sitting, waiting for her. She took a seat across from the older of the two.

aHello, Iam Detective Grace Cowan, and Iave been working the cases dealing with the missing women, including your wife, Roxie.a She studied the two men, who looked remarkably alike-short, brown hair, though the older had gray running through his. Both had deep-set brown eyes, the younger sporting a soul-patch beneath his bottom lip.

aNice to see you again, Detective. This is my son, Trevor,a he nodded indication toward the young man sitting to his right. Grace nodded an acknowledgment.

Getting down to business, Grace cleared her throat, putting on the most professional, yet compassionate, face she could. aMr. Carmichael,a she began softly, athree days ago a body was discovered in the woods outside Woodland. There was no way to identify her except by a tattoo, which is only partial.a She studied the man carefully, noting his Adamas Apple bob as he swallowed. aI saw in an earlier statement from you that Roxie had a tattoo.a Trevor looked to his father. aMom has a tattoo?a Mack nodded. aYes, she does.a aCan you tell me what that tattoo was of?a Grace tried to focus on the man sitting before her, doing her damndest to get the image of their Jane Doeas tattoo out of her head. In some ways it was like God trying to tell them something, trying to point a finger of recognition: on the entire area of the hip and pelvis, that area where the tattoo was, was the only part still with remaining flesh.

aYeah, I can. It was a little blue fairy, little yellow wings.a Grace nodded. The tattoo on the body was faded from time, as well as the solvent used on the body, and was stretched due to childbirth, and the simple truth of weight gained since the application. aI have a photograph that was taken in the Medical Examineras office. Do you think you could take a look at it for me? Tell me if itas the tattoo your wife had?a Grace asked softly, looking from one to the other of the men. Trevor put an arm around his fatheras linebacker-like shoulders. Mack nodded.

aYeah. I can do that.a aOkay.a Grace opened the folder and pulled out a picture shead just received that morning, taken during the autopsy. The image was centralized only on the area of the tattoo-no reason to upset the family anymore than need be.

Mack took the picture, holding it in a trembling hand. It only took a moment for him to break down, still clutching the photo. Trevor gathered his father in a strong, one-armed hug, resting their heads together. Grace watched, trying to fight the burning in her own throat as she struggled to maintain her professionalism.

aIam sorry, Mack,a she said at length, reaching across the table and resting her hand upon his much larger one.

Remmy held up another pack of smokes, her brows raised just as high in expectation.

aNo, that ainat them, neither. What about the blue and white pack?a the old man said, halfway leaning across the counter to point.

Remmy put the Marlboroas away and grabbed the pack the old man indicated. Holding it up for his inspection, doing her damndest to not get exasperated with him.

aNo, them ainat it, neither.a aSir, weave been through ever brand Iave got here. The pack you had last week just may not be here,a she tried to reason, putting the blue and white pack on its shelf again.

aNo, damn it! I know I bought it here!a He slammed his fist into the counter.

aMaybe you were at Smoker Friendly down on Pike Avenue,a she suggested, hoping, oh so hoping, head go away. To her astonishment, and irritated amusement, he looked off into space, as though thinking. Remmyas gaze was pulled away from him as the bells above the door rang, and Grace Cowan walked in. She gave the dark woman a quick nod, then turned back to the old geezer.

aYou know,a he said, voice just above a whisper. aI think youare right!a Remmy smiled big and encouragingly. aIam sure theyad be more than willing to help you out over there, sir.a Without another word or comment, the old man hobbled toward the door, but not before letting out a huge, wet cough. Grace watched him go, disgust clearly written on her dark features, then walked up to the counter.

aHiya,a Remmy said with a big grin.

aHi, Remmy. How are you?a aJust peachy keen.a aListen,a Grace said, leaning on the counter, aIave got some good news, and Iave got some bad news.a aOkay.a Remmy leaned against the opposite counter in the small bullpen, arms crossed over her chest as she studied the other woman.

aIf I didnat believe in you before, I definitely do now. You were right. Someone was killed, her name began with an a'Ra, and she was 41 years old.a Remmy listened, feeling like shead just taken a punch to the gut. Swallowing, she nodded, encouraging Grace to continue.

aHer name was Roxie Carmichael, mother of three and a wife. Shead been missing for more than eight months. But,a she held up a finger, ahereas the kicker. She hadnat been dead all that time. She was left in the woods, and due to insect and animal activity, the MEas office doesnat believe shead been there for anymore than a week, at most.a aIam really not sure what to think of this, Grace,a Remmy said softly, her stomach roiling.

aI know. Hereas the good news. We finally have a link. Tire tracks were found near the scene, and were compared to the ones of the Cameron Sanchez, and they match.a Remmy had heard of the young woman who had been taken from her own bed. She nodded. That was good news. That was very good news. She met the intense gaze of the detective.

aRemmy, do you feel in your heart of hearts, that Julie witnessed the death of Roxie Carmichael?a Remmy met the gaze dead on, nodding. aWithout a doubt.a aOkay. Then hereas what I need from you. I want you to make a connection, make a mental call, whatever it is that you do, with Julie, and get as much goddamn information as you can. I want to nail this motherfucker, you hear me?a Remmy nodded with a smile. aYeah, I hear ya.a

Part 10.

Pamela glanced through the darkness ahead and slightly to the right. She could hear the soft moans of the new girl. Her heart, what was left of it, went out to her. She knew what kind of a headache accompanied that first day back in reality. She had no idea what he used to knock them out, but it was potent. She didnat think it was your normal, run-of-the-mill chloroform. That shit kept you out for days if he wanted it to, which was always the case with the new girls.

As much as she hated to see another life ruined, she was glad for the company. Head kept the cute blonde upstairs forever, it seemed. She wondered if she were still even alive. Hell, she even missed Roxieas crying and sniffling. Pamela had lived in the dark so long now, her eyes were quite well adjusted. She could make out the girlas face enough to see that she was just a young girl. Even younger than Julie.

aHow are you doing, kid?a she asked, her voice quiet and soft.

The girl moaned again before raising her head, blinking several times. aWhere am I?a The older woman smirked, giving the standard answer. aHell.a Cameron looked around, though could see nothing. Suddenly it all came back to her: shead been sleeping, in a nice, deep sleep for the first time in weeks, when shead woken to the sight of a man in her room. She gasped, thrashing against her bindings, nearly hyperventilating. aOh my god!a she choked. She had no idea where she was, only the womanas voice telling her she wasnat alone. The darkness began to close in around her, her lungs heaving, growing tight as her eyes grew wider. aHelp! Help me!a Pamela rolled her eyes. aFuck.a She took a deep breath, then let her have it. aShut the fuck up!a she yelled above the girlas screams. aNot unless you wanna loose Satan, himself on your ass!a Cameron shut up immediately, stunned. aWho are you?a aYour fucking best friend if youall shut up.a Pamela glanced over at the girl, feeling slight guilt and pity. aTrust me on this-youall make it worse on yourself if you pull shit like that. No one is coming to help you, okay? No one.

Upstairs, Sergio spooned another mouthful of the fragrant soup to Julie, near giddy as he saw her relish at the new taste. The smile slid from his lips as he had a flashback to another time, a bad time: Head managed to get her sitting up against the headboard of her simple, wooden bed. A blanket of pure white was wrapped tightly over her short legs, her gown this day the color of cement. Her small, dark eyes bored into him from cracked, white skin, a mapping of lines threading out from those hard eyes.

Sergio brought up another spoonful, the smell of the perpetual oatmeal making his stomach want to churn. As he brought the spoonful up to her mouth, he missed slightly, some of the lumpy mess sliding down her chin. Quickly he reached for a napkin to clean it off.

aCanat even do that right, can you?a she whispered. aGod rejected you too long ago-leaving your mother.a Sergio didnat rise to the bait-wouldnat do any good, anyway. Instead, he dipped the spoon into the bowl again, gathering another mouthful for his mother.

He shook himself free of the memory, looking instead into the clear green eyes that gazed out toward the window, even as Julie silently chewed the meat and potatoes that had been in the last bite.

Julie savored the warmth that slid down her throat and into her stomach. She was amazed she hadnat gotten sick, yet, only wandering around in her birthday suit. He kept the house reasonably warm-upstairs, anyway-which helped. She never thought shead ever feel so blase about her nakedness. She was amused at that, as she fully admitted to being one of the shyest, most self-conscious people about being naked, that she knew. Hell, even living alone, she never walked around naked, or even half-naked.

She knew it was silly, but the naked body was always something she equated with the sexual, sensual-side of life, and she didnat reveal that, or give that, to just anyone. The human body, she felt, was a sacred, beautiful thing, not to be squandered. Now, sitting in that bed, her breasts revealed to the wandering eyes of the man feeding her, she felt that gift slipping away. Never again would she see her body the same way. Never again would she be able to give the gift to someone. For one, she was probably living out the rest of her destiny. For two, the human body and sexuality of the human body, had forever lost its beauty and specialness.

Julie looked at the man who was busy stirring the remnants of her dinner, gathering more of the hearty chunks. She examined him, and for a brief moment, allowed the anger that she felt to enter into her eyes. How dare he take that from her? How dare he steal something so special?

She hated him.

Chapter 19.

Romanas hand snapped out, fingers grabbing onto the oh-shit handle, his grin a mile wide. He watched as the scenery past by in a circular blur, the engine of his car roaring as the car was once again righted.

aHoly shit!a he howled, unable to keep the smile from his face. aHow do you know how to do this?a Remmy grinned, gunning the engine once more. aCanat tell ya,a she answered, sending them into another doughnut. How could she possibly tell her friend that stealing cars over the years had taught her how to be one hell of a driver.