Missing a witness? We have her but I think you’d rather have the man who tried to kill her. If so, we can deliver. This is a private transaction. You’ll get your man and all the credit, and we’ll ask for very little in return.

If you wish to discuss this further, please respond to the e-mail address at the bottom with a time and place.

Attached to the e-mail was a photo of a bloodied garrote wire. No one knew that’s what the killer had tried to use. The kids thought he’d been strangling her with a rope, which hadn’t explained her bloodied hands. The wire looked like the same gauge used on the Lee woman. That made sense.

He’d tried to trace the e-mail, of course—using what resources he could without arousing suspicion—but the trail ended at a dead account. So he’d done the only thing he could: responded with a time and place. Here and now.

They’d expected him to come alone. He hadn’t, of course. He was ambitious—not crazy. But he’d told the young agent accompanying him only that he was meeting a witness in a public place and wanted backup, then positioned him across the room, where he could watch for trouble, but couldn’t overhear the conversation.

Had it been any other case, there would have been a team of agents with him, ready to take into custody whoever showed up. But this was the case of a lifetime, one that every agent dreamed of—a dream that was fast turning into a nightmare.

They hadn’t blamed him for the Chicago killing. That had been his free swing. Then he’d had his entire team on a train to California…and the killer took a victim in Nebraska. Strike one. So he’d pulled them back into the investigation, and sent a skeleton crew to organize security at the West Virginia parade. And the killer had not only shown up in West Virginia, but left an eyewitness who just up and walked away. Strike two. He had twenty-four hours to produce that witness. If not…strike three.

Now he had a shot at getting her. That would redeem him, for a while. But if he could go all the way? Bring down the Helter Skelter killer? That would hit the ball out of the park, home run, bases loaded…safe forever. He could ride the wave for a few more years in the bureau, retire with full pension, maybe even tour the lecture circuit.

The bell over the café door tinkled. He glanced up. In walked an older woman. White-haired, elegantly groomed, the country club type. He was about to look away when she caught his gaze…and headed straight for him.