LITMIR.BIZ

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      Dammit, this should be her case! She’d worked her ass off to solve it five years ago, every nuance of this killer’s MO was burned onto her brain.

      She’d also blown it. And it had been ugly.

      “Lundgren!”

      Kitt stopped and turned. Mary Catherine Riggio strode toward her, expression set. “I wanted a word with you before you left.”

      No surprise there. She folded her arms across her chest. “Floor’s yours.”

      “Look, I know your history. I know how important the SAK case was to you, and how it must feel to be shut out now.”

      “Shut out? Is that what I am?”

      “Don’t play games with me, Lundgren. It’s my case, and I’m asking you to put aside your personal feelings and respect that.”

      “In other words, butt out.”

      “Yes.”

      Kitt cocked an eyebrow at the other woman’s arrogance. “May I remind you, Detective, I know every detail of the original SAK killings. Should this one prove to be a fourth, that knowledge would be invaluable to you.”

      “May I remind you, Detective, that each and every one of those case details are already available to me.”

      “But my instincts—”

      “Are shot. And you know it.”

      Kitt fought the urge to become defensive. Riggio would perceive it as weak emotionalism. “I know this guy,” she said instead. “He’s smart. Cautious. He plans his crimes down to the tiniest detail. He prides himself on his intellect, the fact that he keeps emotion out of his crimes.

      “He stalks the children, learns their routines. Bedtimes. Location of their bedrooms. Spots the ones who are vulnerable.”

      “What makes them vulnerable?”

      “Different things. The parents’ situations. Socioeconomics.”

      “How are you so certain?”

      “Because for the past five years, I ate, drank and shit this son of a bitch. Catching him is nearly all I’ve thought about.”

      “Then why haven’t you?”

      Kitt couldn’t answer. The one time she’d gotten close, she had blown it.

      Riggio leaned toward her. “Look, Lundgren, I have nothing against you. I’ve been a cop long enough to know how the job can get to you. How a case can get to you. But that’s not my problem. This is my case. Stand back and let me nail this guy.”

      “I was so arrogant, once upon a time.”

      Riggio turned to go. “Whatever.”

      Kitt caught her arm. “Wouldn’t working together be a benefit? Wouldn’t my experience with the SAK be a benefit? If you spoke to Sal—”

      “That’s not going to happen. I’m sorry.”

      Kitt doubted that. She dropped her hand and stepped back. “You know, Riggio, it’s not about you. It’s about catching this guy, no matter what it takes.”

      The other woman narrowed her eyes. “I’m well aware of what this is about, Detective Lundgren. I suggest you ask yourself if you are.”

      “I’ll go to the deputy chief myself.”

      “Have a ball. We both know what he’s going to say.”

      Kitt watched the other detective walk away, then climbed into her car. Problem was, she suspected she did know what he would say. But that wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

      6

       Tuesday, March 7, 2006 Noon

      Deputy Chief of Detectives Salvador Minelli listened quietly as Kitt presented her case. A strikingly handsome man, with silvering hair and at fifty-one, a nearly unlined face, he dressed with panache and walked with the barest hint of a swagger. These days, Sal—as almost everyone in the department called him—was as much a politician as a cop. In fact, most of those in the know felt he was the front-runner for the chief of police’s job when he retired in a couple of years.

      Sal had been a very good friend to her. He had been her superior five years ago and had been as supportive as a man in his position could be, maybe more. He’d certainly gone to bat for her, facing the displeasure of the chief himself.

      Perhaps it had been because he was the father of five. Perhaps because he came from a family that valued familial bonds above all else. He had seemed to understand how deeply painful the loss of Sadie had been.

      “I know this guy,” Kitt argued. “I know the SAK case better than anyone, you know that. Give Detective Riggio the lead spot, no problem. Let me assist.”

      He was quiet for long moments after she finished. He steepled his fingers. “Why are you doing this, Kitt?”

      “Because I want this guy. I want him behind bars. Because I’d be an asset to the investigation.”

      “I suspect Detective Riggio would disagree on the last.”

      “Detective Riggio’s young and overconfident. She needs me.”

      “You had your shot, Kitt. He slipped through your grasp.”

      “This time he won’t.”

      He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “You know how important a fresh pair of eyes can be to a case.”

      “Yes, but—”

      He held up a hand, stopping her. “Detective Riggio’s good. Damn good.”

      There was a time, she knew, he had said the same about her. She doubted that would be the case again. To a certain degree, she had become a liability. “She’s headstrong,” Kitt countered. “Too ambitious.” He smiled. “White’s a good ballast for that.” “How can I prove to you that I can handle it?” “I’m sorry, Kitt. You’re too close. Still too fragile.” “With all due respect, Sal, don’t you think I should be the one to make that determination?”

      “No,” he said simply. He leaned forward. “Have you considered that working this case might overwhelm you and send you running back to the bottle?” “It won’t.” She met his gaze unflinchingly. “I’m sober. I have been for nearly a year. I intend to stay that way.”

      He lowered his voice. “I can’t protect you again, Kitt. You know what I’m talking about.”

       She’d let the SAK slip through her fingers. Sal had covered for her. Because he had felt partly responsible.

       And because of Sadie.

      “I’ll ask Riggio and White to keep you in the loop. Bounce things off you. It’s the best I can do.”

      She stood, shocked to realize her hands were shaking. More shocked to realize that she longed for a drink to still them.

      The urge she could never give into again.

      “Thank you,” she said, then crossed to the door.

      He stopped her when she reached it. She turned back. “How’s Joe?” he asked.

      Her ex-husband. High school sweetheart. Former best friend. “We don’t talk much.” “You know how I feel about that.”

       She did. Hell, she felt the same way.

      “If you see him, tell him I said hello.” She told him she would and walked away, with Joe suddenly very much on her mind.

      7

       Tuesday, March 7, 2006 5:30 p.m.

      “Hello,

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