Have You Seen Her?

Meg stared at the page, a stricken look on her face. "I knew this would force his hand, but…"

"He was going to kill her regardless of what we did, Meg," Steven said wearily. "I've arranged for another chopper to take aerial shots of the coordinates in the note. He gave us a more specific range this time. We should be able to find Alev faster than we found Samantha."

"And once we have?" Harry asked.

Steven looked at the note that had no fingerprints. Not a single identifying factor. "Then we hope we've forced him to move more quickly than he'd pla

Tuesday, October 11, 7:30 P.M.

Steven pushed his front door shut, the desire to see Je

What he hadn't been prepared for was the scene that awaited him. Meg had thought the killer would either stop or kick it up a notch.

It had been the second one.

And Harry wasn't the only one to lose his breakfast this time, either. Steven still wasn't sure he could eat a bite, ten long hours later. But the worst part wasn't the body in the clearing. The worst part was having to pay the visit to the Rahroohs to tell them their daughter was dead. To try to prepare them for what they'd see when they arrived at the morgue to identify their daughter's body. That the beast had not only raped and murdered their precious child, but that he'd dismembered her.

Harry had not stumbled on one sign this time, but six. Head, Arm One, Arm Two, Torso, Leg One, and Leg Two. Lorraine Rush had not been the most horrific scene Steven had ever witnessed, but Alev Rahrooh… He could honestly say she was the worst in his career.

And to know he'd pushed the killer to commit such a vile act. Meg reminded him this evening of his own words from that morning, that the animal would have killed Alev regardless of what they'd done. But the words had been easier to believe before he'd seen that young girl's body. He sagged against his front door, emotionally drained. He closed his eyes when he heard Je

"Now you remember our bet," she was saying. 'Tell me what that says."

"Walla Walla, Washington," Nicky read in a grumpy voice. "You win."

"So where will you sleep?"

"In my own bed," he heard his son say morosely.

"So get to it," Je

"And we'll play the story game?"

"Sure, why not?"

They appeared and Steven forced himself to smile even though all he wanted was to drag her in his arms and bury his body in hers and pretend for just a little while that the world didn't exist.

That they were normal people.

That she didn't wear on her throat the evidence of some sick teenage band of thugs and that he hadn't seen an i

"Hey, Nicky, how's my boy?" he asked, injecting a happy note into his voice, instantly seeing his son wasn't buying any of it. Nicky looked up at him, then looked up at Je

"I think your dad's had a bad day. Maybe when he's had a chance to unwind he can come up and help us with our story. You go on up to bed and brush your teeth. I'll be there in a minute or two." When Nicky was upstairs Je

Without a word he pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair. "You always smell like beaches and coconuts to me," he whispered.

She kissed his shoulder through the layers of his clothing. "You found her. The third girl."

He shuddered and her arms tightened around his waist.

"I'm so sorry, Steven," she murmured, lifting her face. "I'm so sorry."

He searched her face, looking for something he hadn't yet defined, but finding it in her eyes. He kissed her, taking from her whatever comfort she could provide, finding the well more than deep enough. His kiss grew desperate until she slid her hands into his hair and pulled his head back.

"Steven, what happened?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't, Je

She pulled him close for a softer kiss. "Then stay here. I'll put Nicky to bed, then I'll be back."

As he watched her go up the stairs he realized more than anything in the world he wanted to hear about kissing llamas and any other silly tale Je

"What if I wake up in the night and decide I don't want to be in bed?" Nicky was asking.

Steven peeked around the corner to see Je

"Then you get out of bed and sleep in your sleeping bag," she said simply.

Nicky snuggled into the pillow and closed his eyes. "Once there was a man who lived in Kalamazoo." He opened one eye. "Aunt Helen has a friend there. It's in Michigan, y'know."

Je

Nicky didn't say anything for a long time, so long Je

Nicky shook his head. "No. Je

Steven wanted to sigh, but Je

He squinted up at her. "You're not mad?"

She shook her head. "No, you kept your end of the bargain. So into the bag." Nicky crawled into the sleeping bag and Je

"From Kalamazoo."

"Whose shoes were new."

"Who liked to eat glue."

Je

"He had to stay in bed with the flu," Nicky said, abandoning the rhyme. "But one day a bad hunter came and stole him from his bed."

Je

Nicky lay motionless. Then he shook his head.

Je

Nicky didn't open his eyes. "But they'll be okay, won't they? Jim and Jean-Luc?"

She kept rubbing his back, keeping her strokes gentle. "I hope so. The vet says they ate a lot of poison then and Jean-Luc got stabbed." Her voice faltered and she steadied it. "For me."

"There was a lady who got hurt for me," Nicky offered in a whisper. "Her name was Caroline."

Je

His nod was almost imperceptible. "From the bad man. Winters," he added in a harsh mutter. "He tied us up and put us in a dirty cabin. He said he'd kill her. He said he'd kill me.'"

Her hand on his back faltered, then resumed the soothing strokes. "And you were afraid."

"Yes," came his barely audible reply.

Je