Never Die Alone

“And wake the whole damned neighborhood in the process. You about blew out my eardrum, girl!”

“Never the one for melodrama,” Bria

Tanisha chuckled.

“How was Selma after she left the restaurant?”

“The same, but kind of disappointed, you know. I think she half-expected the girls to be there at the house. But they weren’t, and their car was still parked where they’d left it.”

Bria

“I figured Enrique would have phoned you.”

“He knows how I feel about any kind of violence.”

“Yeah, but he knows how you feel about finding Selma’s twins. Huh. And get this, I got another call, too. From Elise. Can you believe that?”

“It is a support group.”

“I know, but I haven’t exactly been quiet about what I think about that loser of a boyfriend she has. Ashton. Humph.”

Tanisha was rarely quiet about anything; she put her opinions out there. And when it came to men who lacked respect for women, she did not hold back. A result of her horrid track record with boyfriends. “But she called,” Bria

“Yeah, yeah. Worried, you know. Wanted to help.”

“Why didn’t she call me or Selma?”

“I don’t think she wanted to be too nosy or have Selma think she was intruding. You know, give Selma her space.”

“Okay. And me?”

“I think she finds you intimidating.”

“Me?” Bria

“Hey! I’m a friend to all women! Besides, I think she wanted to tell me how sweet Ashton was being, which made my bullshit meter soar into the red zone. But I let it pass. Bigger fish to fry, y’know. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Selma yet?”

“Today?” As the coffeepot filled and gurgled, Bria

“Trust me, she ain’t go

Bentz’s eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and, so far, no amount of coffee could shake the headache that was begi

He rubbed his jaw and noticed it wasn’t quite ten. In the three hours he’d been at work, he’d already popped four ibuprofen, a handful of Tums, and even downed a bottle of water. Breakfast had been a Snickers bar from a vending machine. He guessed he wouldn’t tell Olivia, as she was always getting on him about his eating habits, exercise, and, oh, yeah, the job. That was begi

He stretched in his desk chair and stifled a yawn. Last night, he hadn’t slept much, the argument with Olivia simmering along with his worries about work. Fear that two of the worst criminals he’d ever had to chase down, Father John, the murdering wa

Or at least so he’d thought.

Yesterday, he’d left messages with the Phoenix and Dallas police, hoping to get further information about the missing twins whom Bria

“Until now.”

“Yeah, well, I talked to someone about this, a concerned citizen or some such crap, and she . . . let’s see, where’s the note . . . ?” A pause as he either shuffled papers or checked his computer. “Yeah, all right. Here it is. A Ms. Hayward, from your neck of the bayou.” Crenshaw had chuckled at his own joke. “She was tryin’ like hell to string some kind of theory together that ol’ 21, he was at it again, and that the guy in prison, who’s her cousin, by the way—I checked—is i

“I’ve met her.”

“Ye-ep, I imagine if you’ve got a set of twenty-one-year-old twins missin’ that you have. Yours are female, you say?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I’m not inclined to believe that the January twins are victims of 21. Hell, I believe the LAPD got their man. But yeah, we’re doin’ some checkin’, just in case.”

After further discussion, Crenshaw had promised to share the info his department had collected about the missing twins, Belle and Beau January, as well as keep Bentz updated on any new developments in the case. Bentz had hung up and stared at the phone a second or two. A nagging, uncomfortable feeling had crawled through his gut. He was torn.

Crenshaw made sense, he thought.

Yet the De

As for the missing men in Arizona, the Reeves brothers, the Phoenix PD hadn’t yet weighed in. But Bentz doubted that the twins missing in Arizona were the work of 21. As Crenshaw had said, the 21 Killer had stalked only women.

So far.

Bentz wasn’t really buying that 21 would take the lives of men as well as women, but then he would never have believed Father John would attack a prisoner in jail, a nun no less. His MO had been prostitutes and, of course, his ultimate target had been Dr. Sam, aka Samantha Wheeler. But he’d changed.

Could 21 have altered his actions, too?

If so, then the wrong man was serving time.

It was still too early to hear from Phoenix, with the time difference. Although he expected a call soon, he didn’t think that case would give him new inroads on the De

Though Bria

Bentz had sent officers to the Bourbon Street bars in the area where that last photograph posted on the Internet had been taken.

Now, staring at his computer, he was looking at that photograph on Zoe’s Facebook page, where it had been posted about fifteen minutes before their phones had gone dark.

Was the 21 Killer responsible?

Maybe. Most likely not.

But something had happened to those girls, and he was determined to find out what it was. With the information Selma De