Meg was startled, not at all sure what to say.
Should she tell him the truth? About what she’d said—or what she felt?
“I said you were a good partner.”
“Oh, now, that would be a lie,” he said, obviously amused. “You think I’m high-handed, chauvinistic and intolerable.”
“That’s not true,” Meg protested. “Not the intolerable part. You’re bearable. Just bearable.”
“Ah, thank you for that!” he said, lifting his coffee cup to her and smiling.
“Well, let’s be frank. You feel I’m too young, too emotional and not nearly as capable as you are. You’d rather have an experienced man at your back.”
His smile deepened. “You’re young, yes,” he said.
“That means better reflexes,” she told him.
“And you’re emotional, yes,” he went on as if she hadn’t responded.
“Well, yes, I was emotional when we met.”
He eased forward again, running his finger around the edge of his coffee cup. “I didn’t mind.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“I wasn’t rude, was I?”
Meg waved a hand in the air, astonished by this whole conversation. They were almost flirting.
And she liked it. Liked him. How many times in the past few hours had she thought she’d like to take a moment not to be an agent, and to turn back into his arms?
“Am I more capable?” he asked. “I hope so. I’ve been out of the academy for years. A decade. So I hope I’ve gained something from my experience.”
“That’s fair,” Meg said. “Or fair enough.”
“Would I rather have a man at my back?” He shook his head. “No. I want someone I trust. I believe in you, kid.” He raised his cup to her again. He turned as their waitress arrived to deliver their meals.
“I’m not a kid,” she informed him when their waitress had gone.
“No, I guess you’re not,” he said. “Ketchup?”
She burst into laughter.
“Ketchup is funny?”
“I can’t read you. I can’t read you at all. One minute, I feel as if you’re…well, as if we’re almost on the same wavelength—and the next, ketchup.”
“It’s good on a burger.”
She gazed down at her plate and wondered if she was a fool. She thought about her past, her previous relationships. Nothing recently. A great romance in high school that ended the minute she’d gone to college. There’d been lots of flirting with male cops at the police academy. Then she’d dated a lawyer until he’d begun to look at her too oddly, uncomfortable with her “hunches.” Then more flirting, this time with the male cadets at the academy. All kinds of innuendo—and yet nothing that she chose to pursue, not with the goal ahead of her. And now…
She looked up. Matt was watching her, hazel eyes like broken shards of crystal, his expression as charming as she’d ever seen.
“What is it, Agent Murray? There are things we can’t learn at the academy, aren’t there? So, you want the truth—without condiments? You’re a stunning woman, but surely you know that. I’d love to sweep you into my arms, and never let you go. Of course, basic decency, not to mention social rules, keep me from doing that, especially when we’re searching for someone near and dear to you. So…if I’m moving too far in what might not be an acceptable direction, I move on to ketchup. It does go well with burgers. Should I have suggested mayonnaise?”
Meg stared at him blankly in bewilderment—and then she slowly smiled. “I do like ketchup,” she told him.
“Good,” he said. “Perhaps I could pass the salt or pepper?”
“Salt and pepper can certainly add flavor.”
“Ask for anything you’d like.” He lowered his head as he turned his attention to the food in front of him. Meg felt frozen—and on fire. She knew she should focus on her burger—and the ketchup—as well.
Or she could act. Act on her feelings. And she suddenly wanted to.
She reached across the table and placed her fingers lightly on his hand. “Want to know what I saw when we first met?”
“What?”
“Arrogance—which I’ve discovered is another word for the confidence needed in this work. And let’s see… A man who looks like a television gladiator, just like Maddie said. And most important, I saw someone who had my back even when I felt I was being judged.”
“Well, you were being judged.”
“And?”
“I’ve already laid it all out quite nicely,” he said, his eyes meeting hers.
“So have I.”
He studied her a moment longer. Then he asked, “Did you want anything else?”
“Pardon?”
“Anything else to eat. More coffee, dessert?”
“No, no, thank you. I’m done.”
He caught the eye of their waitress and quickly paid the check. “Let’s go,” he said, once his card had been returned.
He held her elbow lightly as he led her to the car. She slipped around to get into the passenger seat. When he began to drive, she asked him, “Where are we going?”
He glanced at her, his smile endearingly crooked. “My place.”
“Okay. There is mine.”
“Ah, but I have furniture.”
She eased back in the seat, realizing that they were headed to his house for the direct purpose of having sex.
It seemed remarkable, but she was glad, and the anticipation was warm and exhilarating. She refused to even wonder if she was committing professional suicide. The days had been hard and frantic, and now…
Evidently, foreplay had taken place at dinner. They’d barely stepped into his foyer before she was in his arms. His hold was more sensual than she’d ever imagined. They tore at each other’s jackets and shirt buttons, then paused.
The guns were awkward.
“Upstairs. Bedroom,” Matt said.
“You’re good with words, Agent Bosworth!” She laughed, but she took his hand and raced up the stairs with him. Soft night-lights lit the way. Their Glocks went on the bedside tables.
He paused again, looking at her in the shadowy light as he slipped her tailored shirt from her shoulders. She nodded in answer to his unspoken question as she returned the gesture. Moonlight played through a slit in the drapes, falling on the sleek, tightly muscled, bronzed expanse of his chest. She leaned against it as her bra fell away. She felt the electric delight of touching so gently, and as he tilted her head, he stared into her eyes one last time, and kissed her.
He was everything she could have hoped for—a practiced lover with the ability to tease with his lips and tongue, to awaken hunger and longing with every brush of his fingers. His kiss was deep and compelling, his touch purely sensual and erotic.
She wasn’t even sure exactly how and when they lost the rest of their clothing. She just knew that they were entwined on the bed. She felt the stroke of his fingers and the caress of his tongue and returned both.
Only the foreplay with words had ended. The sweep of his touch continued; his kisses roamed the length of her, brought her near climax and then drew back, again and again. They were in a tangle of kisses and strokes and whispered utterances of pleasure and encouragement. He took the time to look after the necessary precautions, then he was on top of her and within her, and she felt she’d never had such an experience before. Maybe it was the longing, the loneliness she hadn’t known she felt, or maybe it was just the magic of this man.
Climax was explosive and sweet, and it occurred again and again. Eventually she slept; it was sheer exhaustion that led her to it at last. At times, she woke, and felt the cool air in the room and saw the moonbeams filtering through, and she basked in the comfort.
She knew that when daylight came, she’d worry again; she would doggedly follow any chance of finding Lara.
And she knew she’d be helped. By Matt.
She closed her eyes and couldn’t believe what it felt like to sleep in his arms, surrounded by his warmth.
* * *
Slash had watched many people over the years; it was necessary in his business.
He’d never felt like a voyeur before. He didn’t like the feeling. And yet…
He couldn’t quite turn away. The drapes had been closed. There’d been just that narrow little window. And what he hadn’t seen, he’d envisioned in his mind’s eye.
The two of them, beautiful people, naked in each other’s arms. Her long shapely legs, the curve of her back. And him…holding her, touching her, feeling her, breathing her in…
Slash had felt the fury inside him become something terrible. He’d smashed his fists on the dashboard—almost broken it, but then remembered it was his own car. He’d stared at the slit in the drapes again. He’d been so upset he’d gotten out and walked the open pavement. It was late, so no one saw him.
He realized they wouldn’t be leaving and he imagined them in bed. He imagined her hands on the other man, her long elegant fingers moving over his body…
And finally he’d realized that he had to control himself.
He also had to sleep. It was difficult being two people—one who appeared by day.
And one who killed by night.
He forced himself to drive away.
He could not force himself to forget.
* * *
Matt woke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He saw that it was Jackson and answered immediately. They’d be at the cemetery, ready to exhume the body of Congressman Hubbard in an hour, Jackson said. He’d meet them at Arlington, along with Adam and Kat Sokolov.
Matt glanced at Meg, who was just beginning to stir. She could look so cool and efficient when they were working. Lying there, with her hair a dark and tempting halo around her face, she managed to look like a provocative vixen, even asleep.
He didn’t have time to wonder if what they’d done was a mistake, whether it was right or wrong; it had felt natural, and he could never regret the night.
Neither could he linger.
She was blinking at the daylight coming through the drapes. He couldn’t resist a tap on her backside. “Hey, new girl, no hot morning sex. We have to be at Arlington in an hour.”
In case he was tempted himself, he hurried to the shower and came out moments later, draped in a towel. He tossed one to her, trying not to look her way.
They hadn’t bothered bringing in her bag last night.
“I’ll run and get your things while you’re in the shower,” he told her. “Extra toothbrushes, soap, shampoo—in the cabinet over the sink.”
He dressed as she fled into the shower. Downstairs, he set the coffeemaker in motion, then went out to the car to grab Meg’s bag.
He paused. Something had been written on the car. He could hardly make it out because the car wasn’t dirty. But someone had written on the hood. He leaned closer to study the barely discernible scrawl.
It was just one word. DIE.
He hesitated, not wanting Meg to see it, but not wanting to remove it until he’d had the forensic team examine the car. There could be a fingerprint; of course, it might just be that of a neighborhood tough who knew it was a company vehicle.
It might also belong to the murderer—or at least the person who’d been following them, whether or not he was the murderer. Whether or not he’d taken Lara…
Matt dashed upstairs with Meg’s bag, calling out to her as he left it by the bathroom door. Downstairs again, he poured coffee.
Meg was down as soon as he finished. She’d gotten ready in ten minutes and yet looked as if she’d spent an hour securing her wealth of hair in a shimmering bun. He wasn’t sure if she was wearing makeup; her blue eyes were so darkly fringed with lashes she didn’t need much.
Although he didn’t want to tell Meg what someone had written on the car, he also realized that if she were any other partner, he would. “I think we had someone watching us last night,” he said. “Either that, or some juvenile delinquents were out writing on cars.”
“Oh?” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “What did they write?”
“‘Die.’”
“‘Die’—as in…die?”
He nodded.
“You really think someone’s following us, then?” she asked. “Are they afraid we’re getting too close?”
“It’s possible. So we need to be extra vigilant,” he said. “Ready?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, all business now.
And he meant to be, too. But as she set her cup in the sink and rinsed it, then walked to the door, he caught her by the shoulders and pulled her back. He kissed her, inhaling her clean sweet scent. “Quickie?” he whispered against her lips.
“No,” she returned, smiling into his eyes. “But one day, remind me—and I’ll show you a real quickie.”
“Wow, you wicked woman!” he teased, locking the door behind them.
In less than thirty minutes, they were standing at the grave site at Arlington. The cemetery workers had already broken concrete and were ready to extract the coffin. They waited for Adam Harrison, Katya Sokolov and Dr. Wong, as the official presiding medical examiner. The three arrived shortly after, greeting them beneath the blue sky of the beautiful summer morning.
Arlington always seemed solemn and yet beautiful to Matt. He had many relatives buried there, all of whom had served in the military at different stages of history.
He’d never seen any of those ancestors walking the grounds, and he saw no one that morning. Even looking up the hill to Arlington House, Matt saw no sign of the dead—that is, of the departed appearing, in some form, in the present. The Krewe always hoped the dead would speak, that they’d solve things simply by saying, “He did it!” or “She did it!” But too often, the dead themselves didn’t know. They remained behind because of what they might suspect or because they needed justice in order to move on.
They all stood silent as they watched the workers, perhaps because there was something so sad, something that felt wrong, about digging up the dead. Another car drove in to join them.
Matt was disheartened to see that the arrival was Maddie Hubbard, driven by a chauffeur. He went to the car to greet her as the chauffeur helped her out of the backseat. “Mrs. Hubbard, you didn’t need to be here,” he said.
“My boy, you’re as nice as they come,” she said with a wink, “but rather slow. I distinctly remember asking you to call me Maddie.”
He had to smile at that. “I’m sorry—Maddie,” he said. “This isn’t easy for you.” He shook his head. “You really don’t need to be here.”
Adam came over and repeated his words, but Maddie hugged him and told him she was fine. Matt introduced her to Dr. Wong, and after that she greeted Meg, who gave her a warm hug. She then took her place with the small group watching as the men worked.
Her voice just above a whisper, Maddie said, “Adam, I know what your people do.”
“We find the truth,” Adam whispered back. “That’s all.”
Maddie shrugged and turned to Meg. “Is he here? Is my Garth here with us?”
Matt saw the struggle on Meg’s face as she sought the right answer. “No, Maddie. I believe that he’s gone on. I didn’t know him—but I know of him. And no man has such a sterling reputation without good reason. He was renowned for his brilliance, his passion, his kindness. I’m sure he watches over you with love.”
Maddie took her hand and squeezed it. Meg squeezed back. And soon, the coffin was in the hearse to be brought to the OCME.
“Will you be going to the autopsy?” Maddie asked them.
“Dr. Wong, his assistant and I will be there,” Kat told her. “And I can promise you, we’ll be careful and very thorough.”
Maddie nodded and looked at Meg. “Perhaps you and Adam and Matt could join me for an hour or so? I promise I won’t cry on your shoulders all morning, but I could use a little company right now.” She lowered her voice and indicated her chauffeur. “Sweet boy, but I don’t really know him.”
“We’re at your service, Maddie,” Adam said.
“I’ll ride with Maddie,” Meg offered.
“I came in Kat’s car. I can go with Matt and follow you to Maddie’s,” Adam suggested.
As Wong and Kat prepared to leave, Kat turned to Matt and mouthed the words, “I’ll call you when I know something.”
He raised his hand in acknowledgment. Then he suddenly looked up the hill. Bright sunlight danced across his eyes for a moment, but he could swear that a strange cloud sat around Arlington House. He didn’t know if it was because of his talent, or merely something he wished to see, but there was Robert E. Lee, sitting on a rocking chair, and Mary, his beloved wife, at his side.
“What is it?” Adam asked quietly.
Matt turned to him and smiled. “I like to think that Lee’s up there,” he said.
“He was one of the most brilliant generals America ever produced—and sadly that genius probably prolonged the war.”
“But when it was over, no one worked harder for reconciliation and peace. Maybe he’s up there now and then, in the house he used to own, grateful that the country mended,” Matt said.
Adam shrugged, a wry smile on his weathered face. “And maybe he’s praying that politicians don’t mess it up again!”
Matt nodded.
He slid into the driver’s seat and followed Maddie’s chauffeur out of the cemetery.
* * *
Maddie gazed out the window, studying the cemetery as they left. She reached for Meg’s hand and clung to it.
“You’ve all gotten me thinking. I blamed myself for Garth’s death, you know. Oh, I didn’t let on to my children what I was feeling, but… I was in the house. I was humming away and baking, with salt-free salt and sugar-free sugar, thinking it was going to be such a treat for us both! And there he was upstairs—dying on the floor. In agony.”
“You two were truly a love match. Through all the years, the children—and politics!” Meg said. “That’s really beautiful.”
“It was,” Maddie agreed softly. “But…if you’re right, if his pills were switched… The thing is, he was with various members of congress all day. Not to mention aides, attachés, ambassadors and so on.” She turned to Meg. “If there’s some kind of drug in his system that shouldn’t be…will they ever figure out how it got there?”
“Maddie, there’ll be clues. The ME and Kat—they know what they’re doing. And I can’t help feeling that my missing friend might be able to tell us something—if only we can find her. She might point us in the right direction.”
Maddie frowned. “Am I in danger, Meg?”
“No. At least, I don’t think you are.”
Maddie looked out the window again. “I’ve been invited to accompany Ian and Kendra Walker to Gettysburg in a couple of days. Ian is due to give a speech—and he wants to use it as an occasion to honor Garth.”
“I’m sure they’re planning excellent security, Maddie. And actually, Matt and I were about to go up to Gettysburg. We’re following a…sort of trail my friend Lara and I used to take. When we were in college, we liked the usual nearby places—Busch Gardens, Colonial Williamsburg, Kings Dominion—but we were also broke a lot and loved to go to battle reenactments, old churches, historic homes, that kind of thing. She’s from Richmond and I’m from Harpers Ferry, so we’d often go to those two cities, and then Gettysburg, as well. Lara studied the events leading up to the Civil War, and during reconstruction. She maintains that politics lead to politics, that our country’s history influences our lives today.”
Maddie smiled. “You speak of her in the present tense. You obviously believe your friend is alive. And so do I.”
“I lose faith sometimes. In fact, for a while, I was sure she was dead. If she’s in hiding, I don’t understand why she hasn’t found a way to contact me yet. And if she’s been taken…well, why would she still be alive when so many other women are dead?” Meg asked.
Maddie patted her hand. “That’s why we have agencies like yours. To find out who, what, when, where and, above all, why. Have faith—until you can’t have faith anymore.”
“Okay.” Meg smiled at her.
“If I do go to Getttysburg, which I should, since the Walkers are dear friends, will you be there for me? I know I can clear it with Adam,” Maddie said.
“I’ll be there for you and with you,” Meg promised.
“Thank you, Meg.”
“My pleasure.”
They’d pulled up to Maddie’s house and into the horseshoe-shaped drive. Adam and Matt parked right behind them.
“Coffee and tea and tea cakes!” Maddie announced. She wagged her finger at Matt. “And don’t you worry that my tea cakes are delicate little lady things. I also have a lovely spread of sandwiches, and you’ll be quite full before we finish. I guarantee it!”
“I have no doubt whatsoever,” Matt said.
Maddie slipped her arm through Meg’s as they walked to the house. She drew her close and whispered, “I love to tease that one. I like him. He’s a keeper. That’s just my opinion, but I’m a good judge of people.”
“I’ll remember that,” Meg whispered back.
In the house, Maddie’s housekeeper, a middle-aged woman named Agatha, greeted them and ushered them into the dining room, where food had been laid out.
“And don’t worry that I spent taxpayers’ money on this!” Maddie told them as they sat down. “Garth was a smart man, and we invested in the right places. This home is mine free and clear, and my dear husband and I worked hard all our lives—I taught grade school until I retired.” They passed around sandwiches and tea cakes, and Meg suggested that Maddie tell Adam and Matt about Ian Walker’s upcoming speech.
“He’s honoring my husband,” Maddie said. “And I’m sure it’s going to be an impressive speech to attract followers for his presidential bid.” Maddie sighed. “Ian is a good man, with good ideas and a passion to serve. But he’s not Garth. My husband—you know, he never had a speechwriter. He wrote every one of his own speeches and they came from the heart. He had the ability to bring right and left together, a moderate everyone could accept.”
“Meg and I are leaving for Gettysburg next,” Matt said.
“She knows,” Meg told him.
Maddie turned to Adam. “You’ll see that they’re there for me, won’t you?”
“Thank the Lord that what you want is in my power. Of course.”
Agatha made an appearance in the doorway just then. “Maddie, you and your guests might want to see this,” she said.
They all stood and followed her to the back porch, now enclosed as a family room with a large-screen television. A reporter at Arlington Cemetery was saying that the body of Garth Hubbard had been exhumed and his widow had been spotted at the cemetery along with “District representatives.”
“Well,” Adam said, “I guess in a place like Arlington, there’s no way to avoid being seen. At least we—and Garth’s coffin—were gone before the media arrived.”
The reporter voiced her own curiosity about the event, stating that they were seeking an explanation from law enforcement.
The roving reporter was replaced by a handsome anchor sitting at the station’s news desk. He announced that there were no new findings in the River Ripper murders and that the public needed to stay on high alert. Police and FBI were reporting that various details indicated that the latest victim had been killed by the same murderer. While this victim was a known prostitute, he went on to say, the previous victims had not been. He stressed the need for safety precautions with a murderer in the vicinity. While the killer might have changed his vehicle, young women were warned to be wary of any black sedans that approached them.
Watching, Maddie brought her hand to her mouth, obviously dismayed.
“It just can’t be,” she said. She turned to stare at them all. “I can’t believe your friend is missing and that my husband might have been murdered and that all these women are dead. I know you told me it might all be a cover-up for…for some political reason. It’s all too horrible.”
Meg stood silent. She wanted to walk across to the older woman and hold her. Comfort her.
But Maddie was suddenly very straight and fierce. “If so, I promise you I will do anything in my power to stop them! Let me call that news station right now. I’ll give them a story to run with!”
“Maddie, what are you doing?” Adam asked her.
“Trust me!” Maddie said.
She dialed Information to get through to the station. A reporter was immediately available to speak with her. Maddie was charming as she said, “There’s no mystery about this, I’m afraid. I’ve had Garth exhumed because my children and I made a decision. Garth was a proud navy man in his youth and later a congressman, but he was a family man first, and he’ll be reinterred in our family plot. That’s all. Please let the public know they needn’t waste time speculating, and please stop your people from expressing their morbid curiosity.” She listened, thanked whoever was on the line and hung up. “Well?”
They all smiled.
“Excellent, Maddie, excellent!” Adam said. He gestured at Matt and Meg. “My agents should be getting back to the field. No matter how quickly Dr. Wong and Kat work, we won’t have results for a while, but I thought perhaps you’d want to go back to the morgue and see how they’re doing. Tomorrow, I’ll have the two of you head out, check out the speech venue in Gettysburg and settle in where Maddie will be staying. In the meantime, I’ll move a couple of agents in here with Maddie, as a precaution.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said.
“Yes, sir,” Meg echoed. She hesitated, looking at Adam.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Could I possibly have the dog back before we go?”
Adam smiled. “As you wish.” He turned to Maddie. “You good with all of this?”
“I am, Adam. Except don’t you leave me until your other agents get here! I have to admit that although I love my husband, I’m not quite ready to meet him on the other side.”
Smiling, he nodded and turned back to Matt and Meg. “You two can go straight to the morgue. Killer’s at the office with Angela. By the time you finish at the OCME, you can pick him up and, by then, Angela will be able to give you the information about where you’re staying. This speech…it’s Walker’s first bid for the presidency. He could be in danger, too.”
What he didn’t say in front of Maddie was If Walker’s not in on it.
Meg didn’t argue. But she didn’t agree. If Walker wasn’t in on it, someone in his retinue was. They’d learn who that person was if they could just find Lara.
And find her…alive.
* * *
Meg was getting accustomed to the morgue, Matt thought. Regardless of how often he’d been at autopsies, it was always difficult. Probably because all mortals knew that they were destined for cremation or earthworms…
Then there were the philosophical questions about the essence of life itself. Matt knew that when death came, the body was no more than organic waste. In the morgue, and by the time of burial or cremation, the body was no more human than a side of beef in a freezer.
What a terrible way to think.
But maybe not. He wasn’t an atheist or even an agnostic. He’d seen—and he believed. He knew that the human soul or essence—the quality that made every man and woman unique—moved on. Rarely, very rarely, agents had seen the dead at an autopsy or in a morgue. It was definitely an unusual occurrence. Perhaps the dead could bear it no more than the living.
As Kat explained that the body had been compromised by embalming and she wasn’t sure what they’d find, he was glad to see that Meg’s eyes were still somewhat wide and misty. Yet she had what it took to be here—even though she didn’t want to be. What she had was not only a sensitivity to human tragedy, but the strength to face it.
“What we’re really looking for is the absence of digitalis, yes?” Matt asked Kat.
“We’ll do all kinds of toxicology tests—including some not normally done,” Kat replied.
“Have you felt anything?” he asked her next.
Kat shrugged lightly. “No. But that doesn’t mean one of you won’t sense…something.”
Wong joined them in the room where Congressman Hubbard now lay.
“I have all the victims of the, uh, River Ripper here,” he told them, a look of distaste on his face. “They’re in the next room. I’ve been searching for anything they might have had in common, other than their size, their coloring, their age. Anything that might tell us more about why they were chosen. Do you want to make comparisons yourselves?”
“Of course.” Matt nodded. He shared Wong’s aversion to the “River Ripper” label, but he knew the media just couldn’t resist.
Meg fell into step with him as he followed the ME to the next room. Toe tags identified each of the victims. Cathy Crighton, the first to die, had been very badly cut by stones in the river and mauled by the creatures—beyond the brutality done by her killer. The second victim, the first one he’d seen, the woman Meg had feared might be Lara, was next. Her tag read Karen Grant. Genie Gonzales had been transported from Richmond and now, the last young woman, the prostitute Marci Henning, lay on the fourth stainless-steel table.
Matt viewed the four of them and realized that from a distance they really were remarkably alike. Just as he’d expected. But when he moved closer, he noted that the fourth was somewhat different.
“How tall was she, Dr. Wong?”
“Five-four,” Wong said, “approximately.”
“The cuts seem more jagged—as if they were done quickly,” Meg commented. He turned and saw that she was pale, but still right by his side.
“Good observation. Especially considering the condition of the corpse,” Wong said.
“But you still believe it’s the same killer?” Matt asked.
“Definitely. The kind of drugs found in the system and the amount of each, the way the first slash was made, the fact that the tongue is missing and the way the body cavity was torn open. Yes, I’d say the same man—right-handed, and following his method consistently. The difference is…he was either in a hurry on Ms. Henning, or…he was tired.”
“Interesting. If you’re a serial killer, why go after someone when you’re exhausted?” Meg wondered.
“Maybe he has a timetable,” Matt said. “Which is a very frightening idea.” He let out a sigh. “I’ll go over the morgue photos tonight and see if there’s anything else, anything at all that I can discover. So far, we know that Cathy Crighton left work and was probably taken off the street. It was likely the same with Genie Gonzales. We don’t know about Karen Grant, and we know that Marci Henning was working the street—and left in a black sedan.” He found himself gently touching Marci’s hair. A life never really lived, a life of broken dreams. And then death.
“All right,” he said. “Thank you, Dr. Wong.”
On the way out, he stopped at the table where the ME’s assistant was midway through Congressman Hubbard’s autopsy. He touched Garth’s shoulder and looked up at Meg; she needed to do the same. But he felt nothing except the coldness of death. Meg reached out, letting one hand rest briefly on the same shoulder, then shook her head. As they stepped into the hallway, Matt felt his phone ringing. It was Jackson.
“Meet me at the Walker house. We’ve had a strange development,” Jackson said.
“What is it?”
“A delivery was made to Congressman Walker.”
“Delivery of what?”
“A human tongue, Matt. A human tongue.”