'You should have been angry. They did abandon you.'

His fierceness was sweet. 'When I finally got out of St Anne's and went to college, I was mad at them and the world in general. I thumbed my nose at them, and then disaster struck.'

'What happened that night, Lucy?'

'Things were getting out of hand. Heath had gone from this sweet, reckless boy to a mean, spiteful person. He started driving too fast everywhere we went. At first I egged him on, because I loved speed. Then he started drinking and popping pills and I couldn't stop him.'

'You testified that you tried to take his keys that night.'

'I did, but he was strong. I had one glass of wine but he'd had two bottles. He found this road to race that went down to one lane over an old bridge. I tried to grab his keys from the ignition, but he hit me and threw me out of the car.'

'That's how your face got bruised.'

'Yes. The prosecutor claimed the bruises were from the accident, but the expert witness proved that false quickly. Heath revved his engine and took the road at about eighty. The limit was twenty. The woman was coming over the bridge and there was nowhere for either of them to go. Heath was in a convertible. He was thrown from the car, dead before I got to him.'

She squared her shoulders to finish the story. 'Because I had alcohol on my breath, I was charged. Because Heath died, it was vehicular homicide. Because I'd had a "troubled past", people were all too happy to believe that I'd done it.'

'What about your parents?'

Lucy laughed bitterly. 'They came to court every day, sat behind me looking so ashamed of me. The only character references I had were Mr Pugh and Barb.'

'Your parents didn't stand up for you?'

'No,' she said flatly. 'Heath's parents called me a liar, said their son never would have gotten behind the wheel of a car while drunk. What turned the tide in my favor was when my lawyer got hold of the autopsy report.'

Fitzpatrick frowned. 'I don't understand.'

'Heath had cancer,' she said, 'a brain tumor that was affecting his behavior. He'd been having awful headaches and had started drinking to self-medicate. His family knew, but hadn't told me. They said I was a bad influence, and at that stage of my life, I was. But I didn't cause him to drink and drive. When the jury heard about the tumor, it made a difference. They looked at me with sympathy and not revulsion.'

'So an autopsy report saved you.'

'That and a good defense attorney who knew to ask for it. I thought I knew what it was to be scared. I was terrified the first few nights at St Anne's. But to sit in a courtroom like that and know I could be truly locked up and that I was innocent . . .' The memory still had the power to make her queasy. 'That was fear.'

'That makes a lot of things clearer. When was the last time you saw your parents?'

'The day I walked out of court. My mother looked like she wanted to say something, you know, nice. But my father pulled her out of the courtroom. I didn't want to hear it anyway. When I graduated, I went as far away as possible.'

'California,' he said. 'Barb told me that's where you'd come from.'

'When I finished my residency I took a pathologist's position there. I came back for holidays with the Pughs. And then Mr Pugh was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.'

'So you came home for good,' he said and she nodded.

'I was lucky to find a position with the state. I'd kept in touch with the Bennetts, holiday cards and such. I owed them so much for hiring that attorney. I tried to pay them back, but they wouldn't let me. So I'd take them to lunch when they came into the city.'

'Then you went back to a place you hated to give them the news about their son.'

'That pretty well sums it up.'

'Not entirely,' he said and she frowned.

'What else do you want to know?'

He cast a sideways glance. 'After your fiance died, was there anyone else?'

Lucy looked away, too tired to even go there. 'We're almost in town.'

'I guess that means you don't want to answer my question.'

'You tell me about your buddies and I'll tell you about mine.'

He made an annoyed sound. 'How many "buddies" did you have?'

The Welcome to Anderson Ferry sign approached, then disappeared behind her. 'After Heath, two. You met one of them yesterday morning, slumped over a chess table. Where did you want to go first? Sheriff, Mr Bennett, or newspaper?'

'Sheriff's office,' he said, much more calmly.

She pointed ahead, the bracelet dangling. 'Then turn right at this intersection.'

'All right. Do me a favor, change the bracelet to your right arm.'

'Because I'll shake Sonny's hand with my right,' she said, bracing herself to see him again. And to see her parents again. Deep down, she'd known she'd have to.

Tuesday, May 4, 1.30 P.M.

Sitting on the edge of the sofa in his living room, Clay was slowly bringing his fury under control. No longer boiling, he felt ice cold inside. Nicki. Stabbed, gutted, throat slit. Left to rot.

'Evan was here in Baltimore last week and as recently as last night,' he said.

'In Nicki's apartment,' Alyssa murmured. He'd brought Alyssa here, not wanting to risk leaving her alone at the office. Not until he'd found Evan. 'I'm sorry. I know you were close.'

'She was my first partner in DCPD. We rode patrol together. She was smart, and good at her job. I don't understand how Evan caught her sleeping like that.'

Alyssa hesitated, then drew a sheet of paper from her purse. It was a photograph printed on a computer and Clay sighed. It was Evan, sleeping in a bed. Clay recognized the coffee mug on Nicki's nightstand he'd given it to her himself. 'Goddammit,' he said wearily. 'When did you find this?'

'While you were resting. I was reviewing the files on the laptop you took from her safe. She sent it to herself two months ago.'

'Two months?' Clay felt sick. 'Dammit.'

'I thought you'd want to know,' Alyssa said tentatively.

Clay rubbed his eyes again. 'This explains a lot, especially the missed clues. She didn't want to see them. So we know how he got into her place. Why that night?'

'Maybe she started to suspect him. That he'd lied to her.'

'Maybe. How could she have been so fucking stupid?'

'Because he's a good liar,' Alyssa said softly. 'Even you believed his story about not being able to go to the cops. That the woman who was stalking him had a powerful daddy on the force.' She bit her lip, hesitating, then shrugged. 'He could have picked you and Nicki because he thought you'd be sympathetic to his situation.'

Clay nodded, unable to speak. She was right. He closed his eyes, bile rising to burn his throat. God help me. 'I let my own bias blind me. Now three people are dead.'

He stood, began to pace. 'We know he was in Newport News a week ago. That's when he killed the cop and the pole dancer because they got greedy. Then he came back and . . .' He drew a breath, pushed the image of Nicki from his mind, focusing instead on the man who'd slept in her bed before he'd killed her. 'We know he was at the Orion Hotel last night.'

'He could be at his Ted Gamble apartment.'

'He never claimed his key, but that doesn't mean he's not there.' Clay stopped to stare out the window. Why is he doing this? Why the scam? 'He wanted the identity.'

'A new start,' Alyssa murmured.

'He's here in the city for a reason. I doubt he'd stick around a whole week after killing Nicki for softshell crabs,' Clay said. 'He didn't go to his Gamble apartment. That's over an hour's drive. He's here, somewhere.'

'Why? Why not take the new identity and run?'

'Maybe Nicki knew why.' He turned to find Alyssa's eyes trained on him. 'Evan could be anywhere in the city. Without a reason for him staying, we're looking for a needle in a haystack. Let's find where Nicki went in the days before he killed her.'

Chapter Eighteen.

Tuesday, May 4, 1.50 P.M.

Stevie and Dr Berman were waiting for them in front of the sheriff's office. The older man shielded his eyes as JD and Lucy approached, she with the duffle bag slung over her shoulder. She'd put her purse inside it to consolidate what she carried, but had refused to leave it in the car, afraid it would get tied up in another crime scene. JD couldn't blame her.

'So this is Dr Trask. I've heard much about you,' Berman said with a smile.

'It's nice to meet you. I'm sure Stevie passed on what Detective Fitzpatrick told her in the car. What do you think?'

'I think you are our key, my dear. I think your brother and his friends knew or did something for which they are being hunted. You could merely be a substitute for your brother or you could be involved, albeit unwittingly.' Berman brought her hand close to his face and examined the bracelet's charm. 'Was your brother the type to give you gifts?'

Her cheeks flushed as she glanced at JD. 'You don't think this was supposed to be mine.'

'I didn't say that,' Berman averred.

'But you think it and so does Detective Fitzpatrick.' She drew a deep breath. 'I guess we'll find out.'

Stevie tapped JD's shoulder as Lucy and Berman started up the stairs to the police station. 'We have other problems.'

JD looked down at her, forcing his focus away from Lucy. 'Like what?'

'Like Tory Reading just called me. She's in Ryan Agar's room, but he's not.'

'Shit. Where was she doing her surveillance?'

'Outside in her car like she was told to do. She said one of the waiters remembered Agar. He met with another man for breakfast, but didn't look well. The other man helped him to the elevators. In the Peabody those elevators can go up to the rooms or down to the parking garage.'

'Shit,' JD snapped again. 'We never should have let him out of our sight.'

'In hindsight, you're right. At the time, he wasn't a suspect. We couldn't hold him.'

'So what's Tory doing now?'

'Checking the security tapes to see if any of them show Ryan. She'll get back to us.' Stevie pointed to Berman and Lucy, who were just climbing the last stair. 'Let's meet Sheriff Westcott and hope he grew out of his asshole-ishness.'

JD snorted. 'Having met his mama, I don't think you'll get your wish.' He took the stairs in a jog and opened the heavy door for Lucy and Berman. Lucy gave him a look that was both thanks and a plea. 'It'll be fine,' he murmured. JD hoped he hadn't lied.

Behind the counter was an older woman whose nameplate said Gladys Strough, Clerk. 'Can I help you?'

'I hope so,' JD said. 'I'm Detective Fitzpatrick, Baltimore Homicide. This is my partner, Detective Mazzetti. Is Sheriff Westcott in?'

'Oh, you're here about the Bennett boy. Tragic,' Strough said. 'The sheriff is in. I'll tell him you're here and see if he's got time to see you.'

A few moments later a wide-shouldered, barrel-chested man in a uniform emerged from a back office. He looked older than his thirty-nine years, his face jowly and his hair thinning. He scanned their faces, lingering longest on Lucy's, his eyes narrowing.

JD watched placidly, although he seethed on the inside. From the corner of his eye he saw Berman cover the hand with which Lucy gripped his arm. Now no one could see Lucy's white knuckles nor the bracelet around her wrist. Good for Lennie B.

'I heard you'd come back,' Westcott said to Lucy a little too softly, then turned to JD with a brusque nod. 'I understand you've had a murder in the city. Russ Bennett.'

JD nodded, still placidly. 'Yes. Malcolm Edwards is dead too.'

'We heard about that weeks ago. Old news, Detective. Edwards was lost at sea.'

'About midnight we found another body, left much like Dr Bennett's had been,' JD said evenly. 'This morning we identified the remains as belonging to Janet Gordon.'

Gladys Strough sucked in a startled breath. 'Dear Lord.'

Westcott frowned down at her. 'Who?'

'Janet Agar,' she whispered. 'Dan Gordon was her third husband.'

There had been a moment, right after Strough had said Agar's name, that Westcott stiffened. But his reaction only lasted a split second and he went back to the guarded nonchalance with which he'd greeted them. 'Why?' he asked.

'We're not sure,' Stevie said. 'We think one of the reasons was to lure her son from his home in Colorado. Ryan arrived in Baltimore this morning.'

JD could see the wheels turning in Westcott's eyes. 'How did he know?' Westcott asked. 'If you didn't ID her until this morning, how did Ryan know to come?'

'We believe Janet's killer called him,' JD said. 'And now Ryan is missing too.'

Lucy's head swung so that she stared at him wide-eyed, but she said nothing.

Westcott paled, but didn't flinch. 'Maybe he made the ID and went home. Ryan and his mama didn't get along.' He glanced at Lucy. 'You know how that is, Dr Trask.'

'I do indeed,' she murmured. 'Times two. I don't get along with my mama or yours.'