“You’re welcome,” he said stiffly. “What do you think about Easton’s conjectures?”

“I don’t disagree with anything. In fact, he’s opened my eyes to much that I chose not to see. With no offense intended toward your department or any law enforcement agency, I believe you should listen to him and act on his advice.”

The detective sighed. “Easton, you said there were three reasons why you think he’d stick around. What’s the second?”

“To kill Talia.”

Drex’s candor took Locke aback. He cleared his throat before asking her if Jasper had ever threatened her.

“No.”

“Did you ever feel threatened by implication or—”

“No,” she replied, interrupting him. “That’s what makes it so terrifying to me now. He had some odd habits, but I didn’t perceive them as aberrant characteristics or take them as the warning signs I should have.”

“We don’t have time for her to rehash what she’s already told me about their relationship,” Drex said. “Just take my word for it. He won’t leave here with her still living. It would be untidy.”

“He’s right, detective,” she said. “I’ve lived with Jasper. I know his habits. He won’t leave me as a loose thread.”

“To say nothing of her dough,” Mike said.

“Who’s that?” Locke asked.

“Mallory.”

“So the gang’s all there?”

“Hello,” Gif said.

“You know you’re all screwed,” the detective said. “Rudkowski has vowed to see to it. Is it true that—”

“Look,” Drex interrupted. “We’ll sort all that out when we have to. Right now, we’ve got to figure out a way to draw Jasper into the open.”

Locke said, “You didn’t get to the third reason why you think he’s still in the neighborhood.”

“Ego.”

Drex pushed himself off the bar and went to stand at one of the narrow windows on either side of the front door. He twirled the wand to open the blinds. “He knows I’m on to him. Doesn’t make any difference to him whether or not I carry a badge, he knows I’m after him and, because of the trouble I went to with that impersonation of a writer, he must have some inkling of my determination to nail him.

“But he pulled a fast one on me. He plotted and executed a humdinger of a murder. He duped Talia. He had me chasing my tail. He somehow swayed Elaine. None of us saw it coming. I didn’t see it coming, and I should have. He outsmarted me, and he’ll want to rub my nose in it.”

“Okay, but how?” Locke asked. “By killing Talia?”

That was the question that had tormented Drex that afternoon as he lay in the dark and focused on his quarry. If he were Jasper, would he want to dispatch Talia right away and be done with it? The game would be over. Where would the fun in that be?

“What I think,” he said slowly, “is that he’ll want me to worry about her, to fret over when and how he’ll strike. He’ll want to keep her on edge and afraid, too.”

“You’re contradicting yourself,” Mike said grouchily. “You just argued that he wouldn’t leave until he’d taken care of her.”

“But not yet.” Drex stared out into the rain. “In order to get my attention, to let me know that he’s not done with me yet, that he’s still pulling the strings, he’ll strike swiftly. But he’ll kill somebody else.”

Locke exhaled loudly. “Oh, shit.”

Chapter 30

Alerted by the detective’s tone, Drex turned away from the window and looked at the phone lying on the bar. “What? Locke? What?”

Locke started backpedaling. “It’s not his MO. Not at all.”

Drex crossed to the bar and shouted toward the phone. “What?”

“A woman was found dead in Waterfront Park.”

“Near the water, and you say it’s not his MO? He’s sending me a valentine. When did it happen?”

“First call came in less than an hour ago.”

“How was she killed?”

“No visible wounds. No blood. No obvious weapon.”

“Then why’s she dead?”

“Her neck was broken. Looks like he killed her barehanded.”

Drex plowed his fingers through his hair, then held them there, cupping the top of his head.

Locke said, “But you didn’t hear any of this from me. Other detectives were assigned. It’s their case—”

“Not anymore. It’s mine.” Drex pushed the phone toward Gif. “Get the details.”

“He may not want to tell—”

“Then get them from someone else.”

Gif picked up the phone and began talking to Locke.

Drex said to Mike, “Get on your laptop. It may already be online news. Get the buzz.”

“That’s what it’ll be. Buzz.”

“Get it anyway.”

“Where are you going?”

“To bring the car around. Where’s the key?”

While still talking to Locke, Gif fished the key fob from his pants pocket and tossed it toward Drex. But Talia’s hand shot out and caught it in midair. “I’ll drive,” she said.

“You’re staying here with Mike.”

“Half an hour ago, you said you don’t have any contacts in Charleston. You don’t know your way around.”

“We’ll find our way.”

“I’m going.”

“You need to stay here.”

“No, I need to do this. I need to do this.”

He tried to stare her into compliance, but realized how unfair that would be. She had offered to help, and she needed to do something to assuage the guilt she felt over Elaine.

Mike huffed up behind them. “I got the exact location. I’m coming, too.”

The four of them piled into Gif’s car. Drex rode shotgun, the other two got in back. Talia was driving—speeding—toward the waterfront at the confluence of the Cooper River and the Atlantic, where the so-named park, the pier, and other attractions made the area a destination landmark of Charleston.

Gif filled them in on what Locke had told him. “Locke says CID is hopping.”

“CID?” Talia asked.

“Criminal Investigations Division,” the three men said in unison.

Gif continued, “Two back-to-back female homicide victims within twenty-four hours sent up red flags.”

“No shit,” Mike said.

“Have they identified the victim?” Drex asked.

“Sara Barker. Her purse was found beneath her, strap was still on her shoulder. Driver’s license, credit cards, all there. Diamond wedding ring on her finger. It’s believed she was attacked from behind as she was about to get into her car.”

“Age?”

“Thirty-nine. Having dinner out with three girlfriends. Her husband was at home with their two children, boy, age nine, girl, six.”

Drex clenched his fist and thumped his forehead with it. “Completely random victim. Something else he hasn’t tried. Or, hell, maybe he has. Maybe he’s killed dozens we don’t know about, and I’ve only spotted the ones that fit a pattern.”