New York to Dallas

He didn’t rape me. He only hit me once in anger, and that was almost an afterthought. They kept me drugged at first, but I stopped drinking the water. He killed his partner. I saw—”

“Yes.”

“Sarajo—well, that’s how I knew her. I keep asking myself why I didn’t see she was a liar, that she’d duped me.”

“She was a pro.”

“I wanted to help her, and thought I had. When she contacted me again, so shaky, so urgent, I didn’t think twice. I played right into it.”

“Do you need me to tell you it’s not your fault?”

“No. I had plenty of time to replay it, rethink it. You have to trust, or you’re only living half a life. You have to try to help or even that half is empty. I believed her. I was concerned because I suspected she was on something, but I thought it was because she was so frightened. I let her into my car, I drove away from the diner where we’d agreed to meet because she asked me to. I pulled over because she asked me to.

“I never saw it coming. I felt it.” Melinda lifted a hand to the side of her neck. “And still I didn’t understand. Not until he was there. Right there.”

She closed her eyes a minute, then laid a hand over Eve’s. “I thought of you. Of Bree, then of you when I woke up in that room. In the dark, like before. But it wasn’t like before. I was alone, an adult.”

She opened her eyes. “This time I was bait. He made that clear, let me know he wasn’t interested in me like before. I wasn’t . . . fresh enough. He had her bring me food most of the time. Once she stood there, ate it in front of me. She hated me. I think she hated me most of all because I’d tried to help her.”

“Sick, twisted bitch,” Bree stated, and Eve said nothing. Could say nothing.

“She hated everything about me, and you,” Melinda said to Eve. “She taunted me with you. How they were going to lock you in there, how they were going to hurt you, teach you a lesson for what you did. How they were going to make a fortune selling you—Are you all right?” she asked when Eve jerked.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“I should’ve said pretending to sell you. I think she wanted you dead as much as he did, maybe more. She was obsessed with him. And couldn’t see, just couldn’t see how he despised her. She couldn’t see his contempt. He let me see it, like it was our little private joke. Then they brought Darlie.”

Tears shimmered now, and Bree brought Melinda’s hand to her cheek.

“He made sure I knew he was going after a girl—that’s a kind of torture. Sarajo threw her in after they’d finished with her. They left the lights on so I could see what they’d done to her.”

“Having you there helped her.”

“It’s a horrible thing, but having her helped me. Someone who needed me, someone I could comfort and counsel and tend to. When he came back for Darlie the next day, I did everything I could to distract him. She wasn’t there, the partner. I’d studied him, so I used that. I got him to talk to me—to converse. He enjoyed it, and sat there for a long time, showing off his knowledge of literature, art.”

“Did he tell you anything personal? Anything he planned, anything that could tell us where he’d go?”

“I don’t think so. It was all this lofty, cocktail-party sort of conversation. I kept it that way. I was afraid if I asked him anything, he’d remember Darlie.”

“What was he wearing?”

“Oh . . . ah.”

“Try to think back,” Eve prompted, “picture him there.”

“A crewneck with the sleeves pushed up. Very classic, and navy blue. Casual pants, but good ones. Buff colored, I think. Yes, with an embossed brown belt and silver buckle.” Her forehead creased as she concentrated. “Silver buckles on his shoes. They matched the belt. He had a leather sheath on the belt. Once I wondered if I could get him to come over, somehow get the knife out of the sheath.

“It had initials on it, the sheath. I’d forgotten that.”

“What initials?”

“His. I. M. I am,” she murmured. “He must love that.”

“On it,” Bree said before Eve could speak, and rolled out of bed, already pulling out her ’link.

“Did you notice anything else? Jewelry?”

“Silver wrist unit. It looked like a good one. A monogrammed leather sheath. You can trace that. I know that.” Frustration vibrating, Melinda pressed a hand to the side of her head. “I didn’t think before.”

“Give yourself a break,” Eve suggested. “You held on, and more, you held him off from taking the kid for another round.”

“He got bored. I’d amused him for a while, but he knew what I was doing. He would have taken her, but the partner contacted him. He looked puzzled at first, let it go to v-mail. Then he was furious. He didn’t rage, but he was so angry. He took out the knife. I knew he meant to kill us, but he just stood there.”

“Stood there?”

“Just stood there for a minute, looking blank, looking like someone who’d lost their train of thought or forgotten what they’d meant to do next.”

Eve’s eyes sharpened. “He wasn’t sure what to do?”

“Yes, but it was more like he couldn’t remember, or couldn’t decide. Then he just turned around and walked out, locked us in again. I kept waiting for him to come back, to come back with the knife. That was the worst of all of it. Waiting for him to come back with the knife, and knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop him.”

She fought off a shudder. “Why didn’t he come back?”

“The extra time, extra mess, lack of interest. The sudden, unexpected change in plans.” Eve hesitated, then decided Melinda deserved the full truth. “And he knows you won’t forget him, either of you. That’s important to him.”

“He marked her.” Melinda laid her fingertips on her heart. “And me, again. We can have it erased, like I did before. But it’s always going to be there.”

“You got through it. So will she.”

“I hope you’re right. You never get over it. You can’t. So you have to get through it. She’s one of us now, poor little girl. One of his numbers.”

“You’re not a number, Melinda, to anyone but him. You should remember that. Remember he tried to make you one twice, but he couldn’t.” Eve got to her feet. “And when he’s back in prison, go see him again, and show him that.”

“Will you talk to Darlie now?”

“Yeah. If you remember anything else, just let me know.”

When she stepped out into the hall, Bree walked up to her. “We’re tracing the leather sheath. It’s a good lead.”

“Look at the clothes, too. The belt and shoes especially. She bought some of the wardrobe for him, but he’d want to shop for himself after being caged. Browse, touch fabrics. Maybe he did a little shopping when he went to the bank. He might want to replace some of the things he had to leave behind.”

“I’ll work from here. They’re bringing in a cot so I can stay with her tonight. It’s not likely he’ll come back for either of them, but—”

“He won’t be back, but why take chances? Stay with your sister.” She crossed the hall, turned back. “He’s not as smart as he thinks he is, not this time. He’s caught up in being out, in being free as much as by the plans he made. He wants his fashionable wardrobe, his good wines. He needs them after being denied for so long. He can’t stay under long, it’s like being back in a cage.”

“And he’ll want another girl.”

“Yeah.”

Thinking of that, Eve opened the door to Darlie’s room.

The mother sat on the bed, an arm curved around Darlie’s shoulder, with the father flanking the other side. Eve’s entrance had interrupted. She could see the father desperately trying to make Darlie smile or laugh.

Tears shimmered in his eyes as he turned toward Eve.

“I’m Lieutenant Dallas.”

“I remember.” The mother stood up. “You were at the mall when . . . I remember. We’re so grateful, my