“I promise I won’t get her upset.”

“That’s not a promise you can keep,” Clark said. “She’s a big girl, but she’s a child. She’s scared of things she doesn’t understand.”

“May I see her?” Maggie asked.

“What, now?”

“Not to talk to her. I just want to see what she looks like.”

Clark frowned. “I don’t want to wake her up.”

“I’ll be very quiet. I’d like to see her room, too.”

Clark relented and led her down the hall. For a big man, he walked quietly on the old floorboards. He inched Mary’s door open and peered inside, then let Maggie squeeze into the room in front of him. Mary was asleep and snoring gently. Her father was right—she looked like any other teenage girl that way. Other than Mary being blond, Maggie didn’t see any physical characteristics that she shared with the other victims. She was heavier than most of the other girls. Her hair was the curliest. She was lying on her stomach, with the blankets kicked halfway down her body. Her nightgown had bunched up, and her lower back was exposed. Maggie noticed a tattoo of a butterfly on her spine.

She silently checked out the windows. With the night-light shining, she wasn’t sure if Mary would have been able to see much outside. Maggie didn’t feel confident about getting any results from the photo array of local sex offenders.

She returned with Clark Biggs to the living room.

“I notice your daughter has a tattoo,” Maggie said.

“So?”

“I was just surprised.”

“Mary loves butterflies. Her mother thought she would like having a tattoo of one. They did it without telling me.”

“Would you have objected?”

Clark frowned. “No, I guess not, but I’ve got tattoos, and I know it hurts like hell to get them. Even so, Mary was thrilled with it. She likes showing it off by lifting her shirt, though. She shows it to everyone. I don’t like that.”

“What do you mean, everyone?”

“If someone drives by, and she’s in the yard, she lifts her shirt. If someone comes to the door, same thing. I can’t make her stop.”

“I understand. I think that’s all for now, Mr. Biggs.”

“I hope you nail this bastard. I’m going to sleep on the floor in Mary’s room until you do.”

“There’s really no need for that,” Maggie told him. “I know it was an awful experience for Mary, but it’s over.”

“Until the next time,” Clark said.

“I don’t think you need to worry about a next time. This peeper keeps changing targets. We’re trying to catch up to him by figuring out how he picks his victims.”

“Bullshit,” Clark snapped.

Maggie arched her head in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, he’s done this to Mary before. What’s to say he won’t come back again?”

“You’re saying this isn’t the first time Mary saw this man?”

Clark shook his head. “I think it happened last week, too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why didn’t you report it?”