The DI grabbed a bag and carefully lifted the remains of scalp and hair into it. Holly finally felt the gorge begin to rise. “Does that happen often?”

Moreno saved her. “Anything can happen to a body left out in the sun long enough. Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s going to be a long day. I’ll meet you at Montclair’s place. We’re all set on the paper. Judge Kerr signed off on the warrants late last night.”

“We should amend the physical search warrant to let us take a look around for gas cans and other flammable materials. Don’t want this getting tossed on a technicality.”

Moreno gave her a smile. “Yes, we should. Good call.”

The van doors slammed. Holly had a momentary bit of sorrow, allowing herself to feel the loss of another human, then slapped her sunglasses down and walked to her car. Better to get it over with quickly, rip off the Band-Aid. She couldn’t deny it now. Ethan Montclair was their indisputable prime suspect, and she wanted to see how he reacted to seeing the results of his elemental handiwork.

Crawling past the ever-present construction on Highway 96, wondering to herself, Did he do it?

For the first time, her gut told her he had.

And Never the Twin Shall Meet

AND NEVER THE TWAIN SHALL MEET

Ethan was watching for them. He’d woken with a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost as if he’d known today they were going to find her. When the doorbell rang, he steeled himself. Sure enough, when he opened the door, there was Officer Graham, dressed in plain clothes now, jeans and a T-shirt with a short linen motorcycle jacket over it, her gun clearly visible on her hip. There was a stranger with her, readily identifiable as a priest from his high, stiff collar.

A wave of fear and nausea went through him. She was gone. She really was gone.

“You found her?”

“May we come in, sir?”

Ethan stepped aside without a word. He saw a news van pulling onto the street. He shut the door before they had a chance to see anything. See him fall apart again. He needed to be careful. Watchful. Cautious.

Sutton.

They went to the kitchen. He sat at the table, the same spot he’d been in six days earlier when he realized she was gone. Wave after wave of emotion coursed through him. Love, fear, anger, all the horrible things they’d said to each other. Every beat of his heart brought a barrage of new, horrible words. He realized he was holding his breath.

I failed you. Oh, Sutton, I failed you.

The cop bit her lip, looked mournful. She clearly wasn’t used to delivering bad news. The priest was uncomfortable, too. Ethan wanted to force their mouths open.

Finally, Officer Graham cleared her throat. “Mr. Montclair, this is Father Jameson. He—”