But right now Kelly heard the hiss of the dragon. The bodies had never been located. Banks still refused to say what he had done with his victims. There was no negotiating with him. A guy without a body had nothing to lose. But for the families of the victims, the lack of closure was painful. Beyond that, Kelly felt an unsolved mystery in those remains. The bodies might tell her what he would not.

Like who the hell he was. Or what he was.

Kelly got on her computer and called up the Acid Man’s file. She wasn’t the only one connected to the case. An agent out of the Ohio office had made additions to her notes. The woman—Special Agent Dana Richards—had interviewed Julie Banks in the hope of finding out what made her husband tick, and where he had gotten the acid. Dana had struck out. Julie said she had never suspected a thing.

“Sure, you didn’t,” Kelly said. She noted Julie’s current address. The woman had not moved from her old house. It was impossible to imagine she remained so close to him after all that had happened. Especially since Banks was not allowed to see his son.

Kelly decided to book another flight to Ohio.

MICHAEL GRANDER answered the door—the guy she had originally thought had ordered the books from China and India, Julie’s boyfriend. He had classic good looks: tall and dark, thick eyebrows and heavy lips—someone to eat, not marry. He regarded her through the screen door with a mixture of innocence and confusion. She already had her badge out and was feeling official.

“Kelly Fienman, FBI. Julie around?”

A kid squealed at his back and he glanced over his shoulder.

“She’s on the phone, long distance. Was she expecting you?”

“No. But I was in the neighborhood.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes. He opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The house was a wooden castle with a green lawn in place of a moat. He had on a white T-shirt and blue shorts—sexy legs. In a way she was pleased to meet him first. He had always been an enigma to her. He was Banks’s imaginary pawn.

It was a hot Ohio afternoon. She was dehydrated and not particularly lucid. The air conditioner in her rental was broken and the drive from the airport had been a swamp. A barbecue simmered off the side of the house—tender meat and mystery sauce. She needed a cold drink in the worst way.

“It’s you,” he said, impressed.

“Yeah. I’m the one.”

He was instantly sympathetic. “How’s your health?”

“Getting there.”

“Happy to hear that. You don’t know how much Julie and I talk about you.”

“Yeah?” Julie had not even sent her a card at the hospital. “How’s Julie these days?”