Mendez bummed a pen off his boss and connected the wounds one to the next, to the next. First on the drawing of Lisa Warwick, then on Karly Vickers.

It took some imagination, but the pattern was there: long legs, long neck, long head . . . and two wings.

“It’s a bird,” Dixon said.

The rush of realization went through Vince, but he let Mendez say it.

“It’s a crane.”

Peter Crane.

Chapter 84

84

“Dr. Crane,” Anne said, surprised to see him, but not that surprised. She had just been thinking about him. She had spent the evening with him. It wasn’t so strange he would show up at her door, she rationalized.

He smiled sheepishly. “Anne, I’m so sorry to bother you.”

“No, no, not a problem.”

Her mother had raised her to welcome guests, to be courteous. Of course she stepped back from the door, and allowed him to come in. Why wouldn’t she? He had been her hero earlier in the evening.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” Hostess with the most-est. That had been her mother’s role.

“No, thank you,” he said. “I don’t want to interrupt your evening more than I already have. What a lovely home you have. Is it original?”

Charming, disarming. Half the women in town would have killed to have him in their foyers.

“Nineteen thirty-three,” she said. “Renovated, of course.”

“But very true to the architecture,” he said, looking around, taking in the Craftsman detail . . . and seeing that she was alone.

“What can I do for you, Dr. Crane?”

Again the self-deprecating smile. Very Tom Selleck without the mustache. “This is a little awkward, but it’s about the gift Tommy gave you.”

“Oh?” The necklace she had tucked in her pants pocket before she opened the door. The necklace only graduates of the Thomas Center program owned.

Peter Crane had been the last person to see Karly Vickers before she disappeared.

“You can’t possibly think he’s involved,” she said to Vince. “He’s the nicest man.”

“Have you, by any chance, opened it?”

Something was not quite right. Anne couldn’t have put her finger on it. She couldn’t have described the feeling in a way that wouldn’t have sounded silly.

Without exactly knowing why, she opened her mouth and lied. “No, not yet. I haven’t. Is there a problem?”

He stepped a little farther into the house, very casually taking it all in.

“I’m afraid I have to ask for it back,” he said, perfectly apologetic, and yet goose bumps chased down her arms. “Tommy . . . misunderstood . . .”

“No, really, you don’t have to explain,” Anne said, her heart tripping over itself. “I left the box in the kitchen. I’ll just go get it.”