“And I’ll call the boss and have him assign someone to follow Gleeson, assuming he’s at home.” Signy was furious with herself. Talking to Corinne Brown had been the top of her list this morning but she should have gotten hold of the woman yesterday.

“Signy.”

She looked up at Eban, expecting censure, seeing only understanding.

“It’s a mistake any one of us could have made.”

She pinched her lips and looked away. “I feel like the guy has been playing me from the start.”

Eban nodded. “We’ll get him. Let’s not make any mistakes and make sure he goes away for a very long time.”

“Damn right.” She made the phone call to her boss who wasn’t even in the office yet. He sounded excited by this break in the case and promised he’d send one of their narcotics guys who was experienced at undercover stakeouts to watch Gleeson’s house. She was grateful it wasn’t one of the other two detectives. Either one of them would have arrested Gleeson and, on paper, it would be their collar.

Signy wanted this arrest. She wanted to question this latest victim and confirm it was Gleeson who’d attacked her. She hoped to hell Corinne remembered more than Darby O’Roarke did when she woke up.

* * *

Eban slammed the truck door closed and followed Signy down an alley in one of the poorer neighborhoods in Fairbanks.

Despite the wind and snow, he noticed nothing really closed down inside the city limits. The plows kept the roads clear, and people seemed to carry on business as usual.

“This is where the medics said they picked her up. Someone called it in, but I don’t have their name yet. I’ll get it off the dispatcher.”

Eban waited while she did so. He looked up at the surrounding houses, but no one was outside. It was too cold to even make snowmen in this frigid wasteland.

The wind peppered snow in his face and it was difficult to see as he and Signy walked slowly along the lane at the back of some houses. A dog barked furiously, chained up in its yard.

“What’s that?” Eban noticed a splash of dirty-red on the ground.

“Could be blood.”

They followed a fast-disappearing trail through an open garden gate. A bloody handprint sealed the deal they were in the right place.

“Do you think he thought she was dead and left?” asked Signy.

A shiver rippled down Eban’s spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. “I don’t know. What do we know about this address?”

Signy radioed in a request for more information as he edged along a path beside a garage. No effort had been made to clear the recent snowfall and he avoided treading in any footprints or blood drops as he made his way past the garage. The house was a neat 1950s bungalow, white with yellow trim.

“Property belongs to a woman called Debbie Abbot. No known priors.”

Eban pulled his weapon as he followed the blood all the way to the back door of the property. “Any known connection to Gleeson or Brown?”