She opened her jaw and screamed at him in anger, her neck extended as far as it would go. That did it. He stalked toward Braithe, the little gold hammer in his hand.

“No! No!” Rainy knew she shouldn’t have screamed. “I won’t yell again—”

But it was too late: he swung the hammer. She saw Braithe tilt her head up to look at him; she made a noise in the back of her throat, and then the hammer came down. Braithe’s head fell once more to the side. The breath whooshed out of Rainy; her lungs pushed but they wouldn’t pull. Straining against her cuffs, she yanked forward, but she was held fast.

He’s killed her, he’s killed her, she thought as she saw the blood drip from Braithe’s ear to the floor. He killed Sara, and now Braithe...

She took her first breath in; her lungs expanded. She was going to scream again because this time Paul was heading to her, the little gold hammer wet with Braithe’s blood.

A crime scene, she thought, watching another drip hit the floor. He was a serial killer. She’d be dead and she’d never know if they caught him. How many murders did it take to class someone as a serial killer? Three, she thought. And she would be the third, assuming he hadn’t killed anyone else first. Her photos had been third on the disk, behind Feena’s and then Sara’s.

She’d searched Jon’s last name, too, and two pages of articles had popped up, his obituary among them. Jon died of a heart attack years before Ginger killed Feena. They’d been living in Texas at the time. Feena had later moved to Colorado to be near some family, and that’s where Ginger had tracked her down.

“You killed Feena, too,” she said.

He didn’t acknowledge this, but he didn’t need to. “She started using her real name after Jon died. You were the hardest to find.” He was standing in front of her now. “Who would have thought you’d be D-list famous? I was looking in the slums and our girl was eating caviar in the city. I thought I’d have to travel to see you, but then—I couldn’t believe it!—you brought yourself right to me. Can you believe how lucky I am?”

Crouching down, he reached out and chucked her beneath the chin. “It was fun, too, the whole little game to draw you out. I make it my mission to know my girls. And you, Summer—Rainy...whatever you want your name to be—carry a lot of guilt. Despite how Braithe treated you, I knew you’d come after her. A person can be controlled by their weakness.” His crooked mouth pulled to the side.

“What’s your weakness, Ginge? Taured?”