Linn Park, 10:45 a.m.

Jess hated this part of her job.

The reporters were shouting questions at her before she’d gotten the cursory thank you out after giving her statement regarding the Grayson case. The whole crowd had nearly gone to sleep during the mayor’s opening remarks. Jess had spent that time mulling over what the evidence tech had found at her place—nothing. The note left on the photo had been written in blood but it wasn’t human. No hits on any of the prints yet. Officer Cook was at her place now overseeing the installation of new locks while she was stuck here doing this.

The shouts drew her attention back to the present.

No matter that she’d given a detailed, admittedly brief, statement, now she had to do the rest. Take questions.

Okay, Jess, just pick somebody.

Gina Coleman, Channel 6, stood out amid the clutch of reporters. She had been the first to find and report Jess’s abandoned car to Burnett only moments after Jess had gone missing on Friday evening. The entire concept of Lopez’s younger and seriously twisted sister sending two of her goons downtown to snatch Jess off the street scarcely a block from the police department still blew her mind. It wasn’t exactly the way Jess had planned to rescue DeShawn Simmons, but she’d managed to accomplish that goal just the same.

And though it pained her to admit it, she owed the reporter one. “Ms. Coleman, Channel Six.”

“Thank you, Chief Harris,” Coleman said as the others backed off.

How could the woman look this good on a regular basis? A white sheath gloved her thin figure and showed off her perfect tan, which in turn made an amazing backdrop for her dazzling smile. Not a single, lovely hair was out of place. Makeup was exactly right. Jess could spend days prepping and never look that good.

“You stated,” Coleman said, dragging Jess’s wayward attention back to the reason they were all gathered on this muggy August morning, “that Gabrielle Grayson’s murder is not related to the MS-13 violence we’ve seen escalate this past week. How can you be so certain of that conclusion? Are there any details about where you’re taking this investigation that you can share with us at this time? A suspect, perhaps?”

Jess smiled politely. “Let me clarify, Ms. Coleman. I did not say that Gabrielle Grayson’s murder is unequivocally not related to the MS-13 activities,” she corrected. “I stated that we found no link and, for now, we’re moving on to other scenarios.”

“Point taken,” Coleman acknowledged.

Grumbling and mumbling rolled through the crowd of newshounds and citizens curious enough to come out in the heat.

“We have gathered considerable evidence,” Jess went on, “and we do have a list of persons of interest we’re narrowing down.” Let them make what they would of that. “We will find Gabrielle’s killer.”

“Are you giving your personal guarantee?” Coleman challenged.

“What about you, sir?” Jess said to the gentleman from the Birmingham News standing behind Coleman. She’d gotten her question. Time to move on.

Before the reporter could ask his question an African American man pushed through the gaggle of reporters. “What about me?” he demanded. “Are you going to call on white reporters all morning?”

More of that grumbling churned around the crowd of onlookers. Just what she needed at her first open press conference. Someone drawing the race card.

“I’m new here, sir,” Jess acquiesced. “I didn’t recognize your affiliate, but, please, go ahead with your question.”

“No one in the BPD,” he said, his tone mildly accusing, “ever explained why it took almost seventy-two hours to start investigating DeShawn Simmons’s case. Or why police protection was removed from his friend, Jerome Frazier, ensuring he lost his life to the devils who call themselves the MS-13!”

A crowd of angry folks who apparently wanted answers to those same questions seemed to come out of nowhere and everywhere at once. The small group of reporters and curiosity seekers were suddenly flooded with a mob of people who had no real interest in the life or death of Gabrielle Grayson. Uniforms filtered into the throng but they were vastly outnumbered.

This just got better and better. Jess moistened her lips and braced for whatever came next.

The man who had asked the questions shouted over the rumbling. “Do you have any answers, Deputy Chief Harris?”

Burnett moved up next to her and whispered for her ears only, “Let’s get you out of here.”

Jess ignored him. “Yes, sir. I have answers.” She surveyed the disgruntled crowd of new arrivals. “If anyone is interested in listening. Y’all need to settle down so no one gets the wrong impression of why you’re here. You’re here,” she suggested, “because you want justice. You want to feel safe in your own homes and on the streets of your city.”

The crowd relaxed a bit. “As to your first question, sir,” Jess began, “there was a communication drop between the North Precinct and my office, which created the delay you spoke of. The moment we were made aware of DeShawn’s case, we launched an investigation that ultimately saved his life.”

Several in the crowd started chanting Jerome’s name. The man asking the questions held up his hands until they quieted. Then he repeated his other question. “Why was police protection dropped for Jerome?”

Burnett’s hand settled at the small of her back. She understood the signal. Don’t answer. Walk away.

“That was my decision, sir,” she announced. “And mine alone.” Jess rode out the angry cries of outrage. Her heart stepped up its pace. This could get ugly, but the man had asked her a question and there was no need to give him anything less than the truth. Jerome Frazier deserved no less.

The man, who she had decided was about mid-sixties, and definitely the leader of this citizen group, raised his hands again. Silence fell over the park. “Will you explain to us why you did this?”

“I will.” Knots of regret twisted in her belly. “I dismissed his surveillance because he asked me to. Jerome—”

The crowd hurled accusations at her for five or six seconds, until their leader raised his hands again.

Jess cleared her throat. “As soon as I became aware of how close DeShawn and Jerome were and the possibility that he might have some knowledge of certain things that could endanger him, I put him under protective surveillance. Jerome confronted me about this and demanded that I cancel the surveillance because he feared that being followed by a cop was going to make a target out of him far more so than anything he knew. I honored his request, sir. I wish I could have made a different decision but I had no choice but to do as he asked under the circumstances.”

More of those vicious remarks were shouted at her. A chant calling for equal treatment started out with one voice then grew into a roar. Jess focused on keeping her respiration steady and her attention on the crowd. Burnett tugged at her arm. She wanted to say something more… but what? That the law didn’t always make their job easy? Or that a passionate young man had made a mistake that almost cost him his life and did cost his best friend his life?

As if her internal struggle had summoned him, DeShawn Simmons elbowed his way through the crowd. He stared at Jess for a moment and a certainty passed between them. He broke free of the crowd and came to stand beside her.

Silence fell over those assembled.

DeShawn pointed at her. “This lady saved my life.” He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself before going on. “We were both hostages. I was one”—he poked his chest with his thumb—“because I was a fool. Chief Harris was one because she was trying to save me. She had a chance to get away before we were both almost killed. But she didn’t. Instead, she told me to run… to save myself. She was willing to sacrifice herself for me. A kid she had never even met before that night.” He shook his head. “Whatever beef you got, it’s not with this lady.”

He hugged Jess and that was just about her undoing.

Silence fell over the crowd again and Jess turned to see what was going on.

Burnett had walked into the crowd and offered his hand to the man who had been asking all the questions.

Cameras were snapping and rolling. What was this?

“Mr. Jones, you are welcome in my office any time you have questions or would like to offer any suggestions for how I might better serve our entire community.”

Several of the younger, angrier men huddled around Burnett and started making demands of their own. Jess’s pulse reacted. Uniforms pushed forward. This could turn into serious trouble. What the hell was Burnett doing?

Jones held up a hand. “I believe it’s time we allowed the newer blood in the police department to fight our battle with their badges rather than our brothers fighting with their blood in the streets. We”—he surveyed the crowd that had arrived with him—“would be best served to take our efforts back to our neighborhoods and our churches and expend them there.” His gaze settled on Burnett. “We’ve all learned a great lesson these last weeks.”

Burnett nodded. “Yes, sir, we have. The Birmingham Police Department protects and serves all our citizens. We won’t be repeating the past under my watch.”

While the crowd dispersed and the reporters reluctantly followed, Jess watched Burnett and this Mr. Jones shake hands again. She had to hand it to Burnett. He had turned into quite the man on the street. Mayor Pratt had better watch his back.

“I gotta go, Chief Harris,” DeShawn said. “If my grandmamma sees me on the news, she’ll skin my hide.”

“Thank you, DeShawn.” Jess gave him another hug. “For coming to my rescue this time.”

“Chief Harris.”

She turned toward Burnett’s voice. He and the man, Mr. Jones, were striding toward her.

“This is Wendell Jones,” Burnett told her. “He’s the current president of the Black Brotherhood.”

“Mr. Jones.” Jess offered her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

He gave her hand a firm shake. “I’ve been working with Chief Black and Captain Allen. It seems my followers have been blamed for certain black on brown activities that we absolutely did not do and do not condone. Despite what you saw here this morning, we are a peaceful group. Fierce but peaceful.”

Fierce was a good description. “With the Grayson investigation, I’m afraid I’m a little behind on where we are with the Lopez situation. But I’m very pleased our Gang Task Force is seeing results and working closely with folks like you to sort out the needs of the community.”

“It is my singular goal to see that our community leaders become completely color-blind,” Jones said. “I’ve been watching you. Your briefing this morning allowed the opportunity for my people to see you and our good chief of police say those things with such heartfelt determination. We’ve had too many broken promises in the past, Chief Harris.”

So the angry crowd was a setup. Judging by his reaction, Jess was confident Burnett had been as in the dark about it as she was. “Mr. Jones, I’d like to make you a proposition.”

The older man smiled. “It’s been a while, but I think I can handle whatever you throw my way, young lady.”

A sense of humor, too. “I am in charge of the BPD’s new Special Problems Unit.” She wished she had a proper card to give him. “I’d like to invite you to breakfast the first Monday of each month so that we might discuss any issues you feel need to be hashed out.”

“I’ll join you,” Burnett offered, “when possible.”

Jones shook Jess’s hand again. “I look forward to the opportunity, Chief Harris.”

Jess realized something very important about herself at that moment. “I grew up in Birmingham, Mr. Jones. I’ve been gone for more than twenty years, but now I’m back and I’m here to move forward.”

Whatever enemies she’d made here in the past or in the last three weeks, Jess wasn’t afraid to face a single one of them. Whatever happened with her and Burnett, she wasn’t running away. She might not have a long-term relationship or children to show for her forty-two years on this earth but she had other assets, like the ability to ferret out evil. Birmingham needed her. Her sister needed her. Maybe even Burnett needed her.

Jess was here to stay. That was what she needed.

Noon

After surviving her first official BPD press conference, Jess was starved but there was no time for lunch. Officer Cook had kindly thought to pick up a little something for the crew. Burgers and colas in the office wasn’t Jess’s favorite kind of lunch but it beat nothing.

Harper was at the case board adding new developments. These kinds of brainstorming sessions were an important part of any investigation.

“There were four distinct sets of prints on the baby bottle. Our victim’s, the mother. And the baby’s.” He scrawled this information on the white board. “And two others we haven’t identified.”

“Why do most men have such lousy penmanship?” Lori asked.

Jess almost choked on her Pepsi.

Harper shot both of them a look over one broad shoulder.

“Is that harassment?” Officer Cook rallied to the defense of the males in the room.

“No, it is not,” Jess said for the record. “It’s merely a statement of fact. Carry on, Sergeant.”

Lori smirked.

“One set is clearly a child’s, but not the baby’s.”

The little boy next door, Devon Chambers, came immediately to mind. “We need to ask Lieutenant Grayson if the Chambers boy who lives next door ever came over to play or visit. If he visited earlier on Sunday, the prints might be his.” The more accurately they could pinpoint who had access to the home in the hours before Gabrielle’s murder, the better the understanding of the events leading up to her death.

Lori stood and strolled over to the board. She took the dry erase marker from Harper. He straightened his tie and went back to his desk.

“Dr. Baron has determined,” Lori began, “that cause of death was manual asphyxiation. Since some results haven’t come back yet, the official autopsy report won’t be available for a few more days. But one screening has shown that the victim had at least one glass of wine and either consumed or was administered a rather large dose of OC, OxyContin. According to her husband and her medical records, which I was able to have a look at this morning, Gabrielle was not on any prescription medications. He wasn’t aware of her taking anything beyond an Aleve for the occasional headache. And, to his knowledge, she had not consumed any wine when he visited around eight that evening.”

“The OC explains the lack of defense wounds,” Harper noted. “With a heavy dose like that, if she wasn’t a regular user, she was probably unconscious.”

Lori jotted down his comment. “And it suggests intent on the part of the perp. He didn’t drug the vic for nothing. He had a goal. But was it murder?”

“If murder was his intent,” Jess argued, “why the disorganized methods? What was the motive? Did Gabrielle have something he wanted? Did she make him angry? Did he kill her because he hated her or was this an unplanned act of rage?”

Lori jotted down jealousy and rage as possible motives.

Harper pointed out, “This new development confirms we’re not dealing with a gang hit.”

“Definitely not,” Jess agreed. “If any one of the MS-13 cliques operating in Birmingham had wanted her dead, they wouldn’t have bothered with all the foreplay. She’d be dead.” She thought about that for a moment, then added, “If one of the anti-gang groups wanted to make her murder look like a gang hit, someone somewhere would be bragging.”

“Still no tagging about this one,” Harper confirmed.

Gangs always tagged their threats, accomplishments—anything they wanted to brag about would be scrawled on walls somewhere for the world to see.

“I spoke with the administrator at the rehab center this morning as well.”

Lori had been very busy this morning. “Anything interesting come of that?”

“Unlike the pool guy’s assessment”—Lori tapped Trenton’s name on the case board—“Gabrielle’s former supervisor said she loved being a housewife and mother. The patients loved her, and her coworkers, subordinates, and supervisors all adored her. She was above reproach. A true saint was the term used.”

“And yet,” Jess offered, “Gabrielle Grayson is dead. The victim of a brutal homicide that is not related to a burglary or any other criminal activity we have found thus far.” Didn’t add up, that was for sure. Honestly, the only real credibility she gave to Trenton’s statement was that he had spent time with the victim more recently. Still didn’t make his remarks the gospel.

“I got the same reaction about the husband.” Cook joined Lori at the case board. “The guys and gals in the South Precinct think he’s some kind of god. He adores his wife. Talks about her and the kid all the time. Carries tons of photos in his wallet. His friends call him a saint.”

“Seems to me,” Jess countered, “that somewhere between these two saints there’s a little splinter of evil.” Somehow that splinter had sliced right through their lives like a machete laying down sugar cane. “And we have to find that tiny splinter.”

A somber silence held the room for a moment. No one wanted to believe evil could lurk so close to home. Yet there was no escaping the facts. Gabrielle Grayson had almost surely known her killer.

“Detective Wells, dig deeper into Gabrielle’s work and social life. Find someone, besides our less than credible pool guy, who knows the dirt. It’s there. Maybe only a speck, but it’s there. Something or someone that worked its way into the Graysons’ lives. We need to find it.” Jess wadded her burger wrapper and tossed it into the trash. “Sergeant Harper, set the lieutenant down and go over everything again. Maybe he’s remembered something else.”

“His mother-in-law is arriving today,” Harper reminded her. “I may have to catch him around that schedule.”

For the moment, Gabrielle’s mother would need her son-in-law for emotional support far more than Jess needed him for questioning. “Don’t push the issue, Sergeant. See when he’s available. We can work with the family’s schedule for now.”

Cook looked at Jess expectantly.

“Officer Cook, check in with Captain Allen and verify that he’s found no connecting threads between recent MS-13 activities or enemies and this case.” Jess couldn’t completely close that avenue of the investigation just yet. Particularly after last night’s warning that she was next. That note put a slightly different spin on the investigation. There were two common denominators shared by Jess and Gabrielle Grayson. They were both involved with cops and each had a connection, however remote, to this out-of-control gang business.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And while you’re there, get a feel for how Lieutenant Grayson and his partner were fitting in with the GTF.” Maybe he could get more from Allen’s people than Harper had. Most in the department knew that Jess and Harper were friends as well as colleagues. If anyone was holding back on account of their dislike for Jess, sending in a new face could help.

Cook grabbed his jacket. “On my way.”

When Cook was out the door, Harper cleared his throat.

Jess turned to him. “You have something you want to say, Sergeant?” She hadn’t told Lori about the business at her newly rented apartment. Harper might have beaten her to the punch.

“I saw your press briefing,” Harper announced.

“We saw your briefing.” Lori nodded to the flat panel TV on the wall.

Jess looked from one to the other. “And?”

The two shared a look. He said, “I had to break out my handkerchief for her.”

“You did not,” Lori argued. “You did good,” she told Jess. “You looked very professional.” She gave Jess a nod of approval. “Love the new suit.”

Jess had worn the ivory one today. She liked it, too. “Thank you. I’m curious to see how the community reacts to what I’m doing.” Working under the public microscope was a little different. At the bureau she had been just a small cog buried deep in the big machine. There were people who handled interaction with the media in all but very rare situations. Like when the media stalked her after the Spears case went to hell in a handbasket.

Harper stood and reached for his jacket. “You got nothing to worry about, Chief. They love you already.” He grinned. “They have since you sent a cold-blooded killer the message to man up and come get you.”

God, Jess didn’t want to think about that. Especially since a twinge of guilt accompanied the idea that Eric Spears had contacted her just yesterday and she hadn’t told a soul.

She didn’t have time to worry about him right now.

The other message, the one delivered to her new place, however, was a different story. That one she had to worry about. At least a little.

“I’m working on getting an interview with Grayson’s partner’s wife,” Jess said, focusing her attention back on their homicide case. “I didn’t want to push since she and her husband have been so involved with helping Grayson. But I think it’s time. The grandmother will be here to help with the baby. No need to cut Sarah Riley any more slack.”

“I’d like to go with you on that one,” Lori said.

“That’s a good idea,” Harper remarked with a knowing look in Jess’s direction.

Before Jess could admonish him, Lori said, “He told me about the break-in.” She shook her head when Jess would have griped. “Harper and I think whoever it is in the department that has it in for you is using this case to reach out. It had to be someone close to know your new address.”

“And”—Harper moved a step closer as if he feared being overheard—“since no one has claimed responsibility for tearing apart your old place and now this… I’m thinking this has something to do with Lopez and the GTF.”

Jess was thinking along those same lines. She had to keep that theory under wraps until they had a hell of a lot more than supposition. Particularly, as Lori pointed out, whoever sent the note last night had to be close. Too close. “We can’t go accusing anyone until we have evidence.” She held her hands palms up. “If someone in the department has it in for me, we don’t know how deep or how high it goes.”

“High enough,” Harper said, prodding a memory she’d just as soon forget, “that Salvadore Lopez warned Chief Burnett about it. Why do you think the chief wants someone with you all the time?”

“Let’s just get on with the job of investigating this homicide,” Jess suggested. She wasn’t debating her ability to take care of herself with Harper too. “I’m thinking of having a security system, complete with cameras, installed anyway.”

“Good idea,” Lori agreed.

“So,” Jess steered the conversation back to work, “we’ll shoot for this evening or first thing in the morning for interviewing Sarah Riley. Unless I get my car back today, I’ll need a ride anyway.” Jess had a feeling her car wasn’t ready for pickup yet because Burnett didn’t want her to have that much freedom. Knowing him, he’d had a GPS tracker put on the Taurus. Fat lot of good that had done him.

“Sounds good.” Lori pulled out her smartphone and tapped the screen a few times. “On the Chambers family, I don’t have much yet, but there are no parents. The mother died a year ago and the father doesn’t appear to have been in the picture for quite some time. I confirmed what Leslie told us about school and work. I haven’t tracked down Devon’s school yet. Must be a private one.”

“So it is just the two of them.” Damn it. Jess had a bad feeling about those two. Her cell vibrated against her desk and she reached for it. “Harris.”

“This is Leslie Chambers.”

That bad feeling crept deeper into her bones. “Hey, Miss Chambers.” She and Lori exchanged a questioning look. “How can I help you?” Judging by her voice, she needed something. She sounded as if she were in tears.

“It’s my brother. He’s missing. I think he might be in real trouble.” She burst into outright sobs. “I think he might know something about Mrs. Grayson’s murder.”

“Where are you, Leslie?”

“At my house. I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find him.”

“Stay right there. I’m on my way.”

Whispering Stream Lane, 2:05 p.m.

“He said he heard the baby crying.”

Seated at the Chamberses’ well-used kitchen table, Jess readied her pad and pencil. Leslie had explained how her brother had come clean with her after they left yesterday. “What did he do about the baby crying?”

As Leslie Chambers told her story, Lori was outside calling in the All Points Bulletin on eight-year-old Devon. He had been at a neighbor’s home when his sister left for work last night. When he wasn’t up at breakfast this morning the neighbor, eighty-year-old Earlene Nicholson, assumed he had gone home to be with his sister. At eleven Leslie had gone across the street to pick him up and he wasn’t there. She hadn’t freaked out until she searched their house, including the crawl space, and cruised the neighboring streets. Her brother was nowhere to be found.

Lori was also to get someone over here from Alabama Power to reinstall the utility meter. The idea that this young woman and her brother had suffered so much ripped at Jess’s heart.

“He said he climbed out the window in his room and went over to see if the baby was okay.” Leslie wrung her hands. “There’s an old iron trellis outside his window. He climbs up and down it like a ladder.”

“This was the night of the murder, Sunday night,” Jess clarified, “during the storm?”

Leslie nodded. “When the lightning would flash, he said he could see Mrs. Grayson lying on the floor in the family room. She was dead—like our mother at her funeral. You know, not moving or breathing and there was blood everywhere—that part he’s seen in movies.” She shook herself as if her thoughts were all running together. “He understands dead but not the difference between natural causes and murder, I don’t think. Anyway, he touched the blood and that’s how he got blood on his T-shirt.”

She stared at her hands. “I shouldn’t have thrown the shirt away. But I was worried for him. I didn’t want him to be in trouble. And he said he didn’t see anyone in the house other than Mrs. Grayson and the baby, so I didn’t figure he could be of any help. Mrs. Nicholson had already agreed to keep him last night. I planned to talk to him some more about what happened this morning. By the time he told me I had to get to work and…” She made a desperate sound. “I should have called you.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now.” Jess tapped her pencil on her pad. “Did he remember the time when he heard the baby crying?”

Leslie shook her head. “Time is irrelevant to him except for the things he knows should happen at a certain time. Like breakfast by ten. The sun rising or setting around a certain time frame. He’s very schedule oriented when it comes to the routine of his day, but when he’s doing something or watching something he’s totally oblivious to the passage of time.”

“Where does he go to school, Leslie?”

“Our mother tried several different schools but he seemed to do best at the Gateway Academy. It’s really expensive. By the time our mother died she had used up her savings. But the school let me keep bringing him this last year. They’re looking for scholarship money for next term. I’m hoping he’ll still be able to go.”

“I know this is hard,” Jess said carefully, “but where is your father?”

Leslie shrugged. “He left after Devon was diagnosed. He didn’t want to deal with it.”

That kind of cowardice was all too common. Made Jess want to hunt the guy down and kick him right in the… focus, Jess. “Your mother died nearly a year ago and you haven’t asked for any assistance?” Good grief, this poor girl was working herself into the ground. “You’re entitled to numerous benefits, Leslie. Social Security benefits for your brother. Probably food assistance and help with your utilities.”

“I was afraid they’d take him away from me if they found out I was trying to take care of him alone. I promised my mother that I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“So you’ve been working nights at this factory while he stays here by himself? And while you’re at school three days a week?”

She nodded, her expression one of shame. “He’s done really well. This is the first time anything like this has happened.”

Jess suppressed the urge to lecture the girl. Now wasn’t the time. “First, we’re going to find your brother. Then we’re going to make sure the two of you get all the help you’re entitled to. And no one,” she promised, “is going to take your brother away from you.” Jess would never forget those first few days when she and Lil went into foster care. They weren’t sure if anyone would take the both of them or if they would have to be split up. “You have my word on that.”

“Thank you.” Leslie swiped at her tears.

“So.” Jess readied to take notes. “Let’s go over this again. Devon climbed down the trellis.”

“He checked on Mrs. Grayson first. He recognized that she was dead. Then he went to see about the baby. The baby wouldn’t stop crying, so he filled his bottle with milk and that made the baby happy. Once the baby was happy, he was coming back here to watch from his window until Mr. Grayson came home.” She licked her dry lips. “I’ve drilled it into his head for so long that he shouldn’t let anyone find out he’s staying here alone while I work that he was afraid to call the police. And he knows Mr. Grayson is a policeman and that he would take care of everything when he got home.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “But that’s no excuse. This is my fault.”

“There was nothing anyone could have done for Mrs. Grayson,” Jess reminded her. “The fact that he didn’t call the police didn’t cause further harm.” She could see how it made sense to the boy to wait for the father to come home.

“But,” Leslie said with obvious hesitation, “someone was still in the house.”

The news interrupted the rhythm of Jess’s heart. “Did Devon see this person?”

Leslie shook her head. “It was too dark. He just kept saying it was probably the angel who takes the dead people to heaven. One of his teachers tried to explain about angels and heaven after our mother died. Whatever he heard that night, I don’t think he knew whether it was a man or woman even. Or real, for that matter. He swore to me that he didn’t see anyone. He heard a noise and thought it was the angel coming for Mrs. Grayson and he ran home.” Her lips started to tremble again. “I should have asked him more questions.”

Jess reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “We’ll find him.” Now for the most important question. “Is there any chance that Devon would leave out part of the story? That maybe he did see someone and that someone saw him?” Jess found herself holding her breath in anticipation of the answer.

Leslie shrugged her slumped shoulders. “He said no but he might not tell me that part if he thought it would make me worry. He worries about me as much as I worry about him.” Her face furrowed with worry. “But he had scratches on one arm. Like someone grabbed him and their nails dug into his skin as he pulled away. I asked him about the scratches and he said it was from when he plays under the house. He calls it his secret hiding place.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “But I’m scared to death that the angel he thinks he saw may have been a person… the killer, and maybe the killer saw Devon and he barely escaped being murdered.”

That was exactly what Jess feared as well. “We can’t rule out that possibility,” she confessed. “But Devon could be hiding because he thinks he’s in trouble. He sounds like a very bright and resilient young man. What about his school or your work? Would he know how to get to either one from here?”

Leslie shook her head. “He’s never been to my work and his school is in Mountain Brook. I don’t think he would remember all the turns.”

Leslie had already confirmed the boy wasn’t on any medication. That was one worry they wouldn’t have to deal with. Depending on the health issue, missed medication could create a deadly scenario. Beyond being taken by the killer or some other sick bastard, the next big worry was water. There were no bodies of water nearby other than a few pools, all of which had been checked already.

The most likely scenario was that the killer had seen him and had returned to tie up that loose end. Jess hoped that wasn’t the case but, based on what she had just learned, the odds were not in the child’s favor.

“Has Devon ever run away before?” The sister had said nothing like this had ever happened before but it never hurt to rephrase the question.

“Never.”

“When you came home did anything look out of place? Was the door locked? Anything unusual at all?”

“The door was locked and everything was exactly as it always is except Devon wasn’t here.” Tears welled in her eyes. “This is my fault.”

The front door didn’t have a dead bolt and like the old one on Jess’s apartment the lock would be simple to pick. That safety issue needed to be addressed immediately. She made a mental note to have her locksmith change the locks on the house and add dead bolts. What was a couple more hundred on her already hefty credit card balance?

“You can’t blame yourself, Leslie,” Jess urged. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Considered that the girl probably needed a hug or something. She reached across the table once more and patted her arm. “You’ve been doing the best you could. Now, until we find Devon, I’m sure you want to stay here in case he comes back, and I think that’s wise.”

Leslie nodded adamantly. “I don’t want to leave. This is the only place he really knows.”

“I’m assigning surveillance, so you’ll see an officer in an unmarked car parked in the street in front of your house. I’ll just feel better knowing you’re safe until we get Devon home.” On the slim chance Devon had wandered off on his own or decided to run away for some reason, there was still the risk that Gabrielle Grayson’s killer had seen him and would be looking for him here.

Leslie nodded her understanding. “What happens now?”

“Let’s make a list of anyone he might try to contact or places he might try to go. Is there a favorite toy store or bookstore? A doctor he’s visited enough times to remember the location?”

Leslie gave the name and address of his physicians. The name of the mall they usually shopped at, though those occasions were rare. The names of their few friends, all of whom they hadn’t seen in ages. Leslie had no time for a social life.

When they had exhausted the young woman’s ideas on the subject, Jess moved on to the one other detail she needed to cover. “One last question, Leslie.” Jess dreaded asking but, until they knew more, no rock could be left uncovered. Every possibility had to be explored.

Leslie waited expectantly.

“Did anything happen between the two of you that might make Devon want to run away?” More tears spilled down the girl’s cheeks. Jess felt like a wicked old witch for making her feel worse.

“I complain every day about how much trouble he is. Every single day. Yesterday was no different. So, yeah, he had every reason to want to run away. But he never did. He always stayed right here as if he were the one protecting me instead of the other way around.”

Urgency welled in Jess. She wondered if Leslie understood that she had just made the situation crystal clear.

Devon Chambers hadn’t left his sister because he was angry or afraid or for any other reason. He would never leave Leslie willingly. Devon was victim number two in this grisly case.

Dear God, would they be able to find him before it was too late?