“I don’t know. Haven’t had time to look it up. But here’s my second thought. If our killer researched Harry Day, his daughter Shana’s name is bound to come up. And while he can’t ask Harry any questions about his technique, Shana, on the other hand . . .”

“He might have reached out to her in prison,” Phil supplied, making a quick note.

“More questions worth asking.”

“What about your doctor?” Alex spoke up, laser focused. “Have any of her father’s fans contacted her?”

“According to her, no. Her last name isn’t Day, however, but Glen, meaning the killer would have to dig deeper to find the family connection. Plus, if the killer’s inspiration is the personal . . . appeal . . . of preserving human skin, there’s no reason for him to reach out to Adeline. Shana, on the other hand, would be a better source, having infamously sliced and diced during her first murder. Now, Dr. Glen says her sister doesn’t receive visitors or respond to correspondence. But I don’t know how much she’s pushed the issue, either. Or how much her sister would admit to her.”

“We need to interview Shana,” Phil said.

“Dr. Glen said she’d be willing to assist with that,” D.D. provided.

“You’re going to be there, aren’t you?” Alex stared at her, not really saying it as a question.

“If Horgan allows it, I’d like to be.”

“Why?”

“Because. It’s what I do. What I know best. And given I can’t remember what happened that night, or if it was a man or woman or an asexual space alien who shoved me down the flight of stairs. And now two women are dead and I’m still stupid while the killer is walking through our home and thumbing his/her/its nose at us.” Her voice picked up, though she didn’t intend it to. “What if next time it’s not champagne? What if next time, he/she/it leaves crime scene trophies on our pillows? Or ribbons of skin in the middle of our bed? It’s going to get worse, Alex. What’s the number one rule of serial killers?”

“Their crimes escalate.”

“That’s right. Their crimes escalate. Now, look at me! Look at my stupid fucking shoulder. Look at our house, where, let’s face it, we both know we won’t be sleeping tonight. This is my life. My family. And I can’t even load my gun. I can’t do anything and it’s all my fault . . . Dammit!” Her voice broke roughly. “God dammit.”

“I’ll be posting a patrol car outside,” Phil offered stiffly.

She nodded but didn’t look up.

“And we got a lot to go on now,” Neil offered. “These are good avenues of investigation. Given the publicity, you know Horgan will approve expanding the team. Pressure will be on to get to the bottom of this quick.”