She wondered what Gavin would say if he knew where she was and what she was about to do right now. I’m not going to worry about that, she thought. She didn’t need to. He wouldn’t be coming for the visit to the apartment today. There was no reason for it. Like Julia’s place, this apartment was not a crime scene anymore. Plus, Gavin had lost interest in any musings these two privately hired detectives might come up with, and elaborate on. DNA had sealed Colin’s fate. It was ironclad.

Val looked around at the shabby, government-subsidized buildings. Their depressing appearance told a story of poverty and Gavin’s warnings about being fired intensified. The twinge in her gut strengthened to a wrenching twist. She was one paycheck away from an existence like this.

But Val couldn’t ignore the possibility that Colin might have been set up. And she couldn’t ignore the suspicions she had about Dr. Blythe. Something just wasn’t right. And then there was the prominent role of Francine Donohue. More of Francine had been found than of any other victim. And now her DNA had been discovered on Colin’s clothing. What was her link with these other dead women—apart from the similarities in the killings?

Though Francine’s murder seemed to be strongly connected to Julia’s, Val had some doubts about what might be gained from visiting her apartment today. She finally broke the silence in the car by saying, “I told you that the fingerprints on the back of the linen closet and on the ceiling in the bedroom closet both belong to Francine Donohue. Both places had small repairs to the drywall and she probably did it herself. I’m not sure why you want to see this in person.”

A good set of usable prints had been obtained from the mummified remains of Francine’s hand. Gavin had told her that they had compared these prints with those found in her residence.

“Because that,” Jack said, “is something interesting.”

The group got out of the car and went up the walkway. Thomas knocked on Stanley Wallace’s door. It took a few moments for him to appear, and after some hesitation, to let them in. Val could see why he wasn’t eager to have guests. The place was nasty.

It was as shabby on the inside as it was on the outside. Val couldn’t help but notice that Stanley himself didn’t seem right standing in the dingy space. He invited the group to sit down. Once positioned on the couch, carefully trying to touch only what was absolutely necessary, Val took a closer look at Stanley, studying him as he answered Thomas’s and Jack’s questions.