“She had a Canadian passport in a different name,” Sanchez said. “A fake, obviously, but a good one. It didn’t raise any flags. The car was registered in the same fake name as the passport. We have the plates, but she’s probably dumped it by now.”

Archie’s pulse throbbed in his throat. He swallowed hard. “The entire world is looking for her, and she manages to drive over a border? She’s not even wearing a disguise.”

“Exactly,” Sanchez said.

Of course. It was the smartest move she could make. Everyone expected her to have altered her appearance. No one was expecting Gretchen Lowell to look like Gretchen Lowell.

“The customs agent had just finished training,” Sanchez continued. “She’d probably been watching. It was the kid’s first solo shift. He’s on leave now. I suspect he won’t be going back on the job anytime soon.”

“What name did she use?” Archie asked. “On the passport?”

“Isabel Stevens,” Sanchez said. “Does that mean anything to you?”

Archie’s head stung. He reached up and scratched at the fresh scab. “Isabel was the name of Jack Reynolds’s dead daughter,” he said quietly. He chuckled darkly. He had only learned about the name Stevens a few months before. It was the closest he had ever gotten to Gretchen’s past, and still he knew only what she had allowed him to discover. She was always one step ahead. And she was reminding him of that. “And Stevens was the last name Gretchen used when she was a teenager in the foster system.” He glanced up at Sanchez. “But you knew that.”

“Why would she use Isabel?” Sanchez asked. “Of all the people she killed?”

“It means something to me,” Archie said. He touched his pants, making sure that the brass pillbox was still there.

“You want to share?” Sanchez asked

Gretchen had maintained that she hadn’t, in fact, killed Isabel Reynolds, that it had been Isabel’s brother Jeremy. Jeremy had been a spoon short of a full drawer and he’d sure as hell had an unhealthy obsession with the Beauty Killer. Archie half believed Gretchen was telling the truth. Then again, Gretchen never told the whole truth. But Jeremy was dead, and that was a hornet’s nest that Archie didn’t feel like kicking. “It won’t help you,” he said.

They were quiet for a few moments, the photo between them on the table. Sanchez fished the tin of mints out of his pocket again, and put one in his mouth. This time he didn’t offer one to Archie. “You want to change your mind about protection?” Sanchez asked.