“Let’s check the back,” she said.

Around the back of the house, he discovered the patio door partially opened. Curtains fluttered out the opening, blowing from the air-conditioning.

“He left the air-conditioning on,” he said. “Kind of a thing you do when you expect to be back.”

“Or you left in a hurry,” she said.

“Call in backup,” he said.

She called local police and reported a possible link to a serial killer. Cars were dispatched immediately.

Standing to the side, he waited until she was out of the window’s line of sight before he further slid open the door. A rush of cool air escaped into the humid heat.

Ramsey pushed back the curtains. The interior of the small house was dark, with no signs of life. He stepped inside, pausing to look left, right, and then up. He motioned her forward and she followed, employing the same search pattern.

Ramsey switched on a light, revealing a neat, organized living and dining room furnished in modern furniture. There was a long credenza in the living room filled with an extensive collection of LPs, and a group of guitars on the wall.

She had seen them all when he had played at the center. She and Sam had fallen into an easy relationship that had never been anything but friendly.

Ramsey kept moving down a center hallway. On the left was what looked like a spare room and an office. The bed was made and the desk clean and organized.

“He got the neatnik gene,” she said.

Ramsey regarded her, sensing there was more behind the quip than humor. Silent, he moved to the second door, which led into a small bathroom tiled in blue and white. Again, it was very neat. Mirror and fixtures polished, floor smelling of bleach.

The last door was closed. Each held their weapons up as he turned the knob and pushed it open.

Melina tensed when she saw the figure lying on the bed. The person was covered with a thick quilt from head to toe.

She checked the closet and then under the bed to make sure both were secure before Ramsey reached for the top of the quilt and pulled it back.

She drew in a breath as she stared at the lifeless, bloodied face of Bonnie Guthrie.

Ramsey pressed his fingertips to her throat. “There’s no pulse. But her skin is still warm. No rigor. She’s not been dead long. Less than a couple of hours.”

He pulled the cover back farther. Deep-purple bruises ringed her neck. “She was strangled.”

“Bonnie was playing some kind of game. Both ends against the middle.”

“And burned the wrong person.”

“She was trying to manipulate me when we spoke at the prison. Always scheming to figure out who to play next.”

Melina dug deep, wondering if she could scrounge any morsel of sadness for this woman who claimed to have saved her from social services.

She felt nothing for Bonnie. Had she been telling the truth? Oddly, Melina believed Bonnie’s story. But she was not foolish enough to accept that Bonnie’s motives had been good and pure. For a short time, the woman’s interests had aligned with Melina’s, and it had suited her to save Melina until she had dumped her on the side of the road. At least Sonny had cared enough to call the cops. She would always be grateful to that boy.

Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker’s man.

Memories of her laughter mingled with the boy’s. And she knew at some point in her life, she had loved him.

“Is there any sign of Elena in the house?” she asked.

They searched room by room, closet by closet, but they did not locate any evidence of the girl.

In the kitchen, Ramsey searched in the cabinets. He stilled and reached for a penlight. “Come and have a look at this.”

“What is it?”

He held up a cleaned mayonnaise jar with a single finger floating in formaldehyde. “It appears to be recent.”

“Who is it?”

He shoved out a breath. “I don’t know.”

She returned to Bonnie’s body and pulled back the remaining covers, exposing her hands. All ten fingers were intact. “He didn’t cut off her finger.”

“Maybe he didn’t have time.”

“He’s in a rush to find Elena.”

“Why?”

“She reminds him of me. He wants to recreate what we had as kids.”

“It’s very possible,” Ramsey said.

Melina had taken some comfort knowing that while Bonnie had Elena, the girl would be relatively safe. But with Bonnie dead in Sonny’s home, she feared the child was now in the hands of a monster.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Friday, August 28, 1:00 p.m.

Mecum sat on the edge of the motel bed. He glanced back at the sleeping child. He tucked the blanket up around her shoulders.

He heard footsteps approach the motel door, and then a pause to search for the key. He moved across the darkened room and stood behind the door for a moment. Sam stepped inside, confirming he was also Sonny.

Sam looked toward the bed and the sleeping child. His body was relaxed, as if he assumed it was Bonnie standing behind him. He whispered, “Thank God. We’re finally together.”

Mecum did not hesitate. He thrust the knife directly into Sonny’s lower back, knowing he had a direct hit on the kidney. Several more vicious thrusts followed in quick succession. On the last, he twisted the blade for good measure.

Sonny dropped to his knees and looked back. The poor son of a bitch almost looked relieved.

“No, it isn’t your woman friend,” he said.

Blood bloomed across the back of Sonny’s shirt and he fell forward. He caught himself with his right arm. He was already struggling to breathe. “Who?”

Mecum pushed him forward with his boot. Sonny’s face now lay flat against the motel carpet. “Nothing personal, pal. This has to do with Melina. That girl owes me a date.”

“Don’t hurt Elena,” Sonny begged.

“I won’t. Yet.”

“She’s just a kid.” Sam looked up toward the bed, staring toward the child.

“She’s now bait,” Mecum whispered as he sliced Sonny’s throat. The blood splattered onto the carpet, pooling around his head. The last of the air gurgled in Sonny’s throat and then stopped completely.

Mecum crossed the room to the bed and wiped the bloody knife on the spread before closing it and shoving it in his pocket.

He grabbed Sonny by the arms and pulled his body toward the bed and rolled him on his back. He opened the nightstand and removed a sheet of motel stationery and a pen. He quickly wrote a note to Melina. She was a smart cookie, and he had no doubt she would be here soon. Slapping the note to Sonny’s chest, he rose.

As much as he wanted to linger and enjoy the intoxicating copper scent of blood, there was no time to waste. Time was the primary commodity now.

He picked up the little girl, careful to keep her bundled in the blanket. Moving from the motel room to the van was tricky, but transitions were a necessary evil.

He quickly crossed the lot and placed her carefully in the back of the van. The child had not moved or stirred. She appeared heavily drugged. It was all the better and easier if she was asleep.

He got behind the wheel and slowly pulled out of the lot. The cops were closing in, thanks to Melina. Chances of him getting out of this alive were slim, but he was not overly concerned. The cancer was going to get him soon. At least he could go to his grave happy knowing Melina was dead.

Ramsey secured the area around Sonny’s house while Melina called in the local detectives and the medical examiner’s office. Within minutes, local uniforms and the forensic team were on site. Several neighbors had congregated at the edge of the yellow crime scene tape, and one news van was parked across the street.

Once the world got wind that they were likely dealing with a serial killer, all bets would be off. The investigation would turn into a zoo as the media stirred up public worries for the sake of ratings.

Melina interviewed several neighbors and was not surprised to hear that Sonny, a.k.a. Sam, was a good neighbor. He mowed and edged his lawn, planted flowers every spring, and had won yard of the month last summer several times. He never had crazy parties or created any kind of disturbance. In fact, if anyone needed a hand moving a piece of furniture or hauling fall leaves, Sam was their man.

Melina knocked on the door of the house directly across from Sam’s. The woman who answered the door was very pregnant, and she carried a young toddler on her hip. The mother had dark shoulder-length hair that skimmed her rounded face. Melina guessed the toddler was a boy.

Melina held up her badge, introduced herself, and explained why she was here.

“Sure, I know Sam. He’s great. When my husband was sick last summer, he cut our grass. Nice guy.”

“There was a woman found in his house.” She did not mention that Bonnie had been strangled. “Has he had many visitors lately?”

“He keeps to himself. But a few days ago, there was a woman and a little girl on his doorstep. Sam didn’t look happy, and when I stopped the stroller and waved, he didn’t seem to notice me. I figured it must be serious because Sam is so easygoing. My Donny and I didn’t want to intrude.”

Melina pulled Bonnie’s picture up on her phone. “Is this the woman?”