Back outside into the bitter night. Nearly fleeing to my car, where I put it in gear and raced out of the parking lot. Two, three, four blocks down before I got my breathing under control and forced myself to focus.

Grocery stores had security cameras to protect against shoplifting. I hadn’t taken anything illegally; ergo, I had nothing to fear. In fact, I’d dumped glass into glass recycling, so I really hadn’t done anything wrong.

Just go home, I ordered myself. It had been a long and trying day, dealing with my sister, the riddle of 153 and the terrible possibilities that now loomed ahead.

But time was on our side. The Rose Killer had struck only two days prior. Given the cycle of six weeks between first and second victim, odds were the police had at least another month before the killer attacked again. Plenty of time to figure out the best way for handling Shana and her manipulative games.

Plenty of time for me to get my head on straight.

Nine P.M. Finally entering my condo, where I dropped various shopping bags on the floor.

I walked straight into my bedroom. Turned on a lone bedside lamp. Stripped off my clothes.

Then moved into my closet, where I curled up on the floor, huddled in the pitch black, arms wrapped tight around my knees, as I gazed at the faint sliver of light formed along the edge of the door.

And finally succumbed to wave after wave of nameless fear.

How would you feel? What would you do? If you woke up in the middle of the night and found a killer standing in the middle of your bedroom?

“Daddy,” I whispered.

While out in the bedroom, my phone began to ring.

Chapter 23

CHARLIE SGARZI LOOKED DESTROYED. Set jaw, obstinate chin, solid shoulders, all gone. Instead, he sat on his mother’s sofa, a gutted version of his former self, and regarded D.D. and Phil with red-rimmed eyes.

“You don’t understand,” he said thickly. “She never opened her door without first checking the peephole. And she sure as hell wouldn’t let a stranger into the house. Even in broad daylight. When do you think my cousin was killed?”

D.D. nodded. She remembered Sgarzi having said that his mother basically lived as a shut-in.

And yet, sometime roughly between two and four this afternoon, according to the ME’s initial assessment, the Rose Killer had entered Janet Sgarzi’s home. At which point the killer had drugged Charlie’s ninety-pound cancer-ravaged elderly mother, carried her to a back bedroom and proceeded according to plan.

Charlie had discovered the scene shortly after seven, when he’d shown up at the house with dinner. Having Phil’s card from their earlier discussion, he’d dialed the older detective direct. In turn, Phil had summoned Alex to assist with the crime scene analysis and D.D. to serve as an “independent consultant.”