If only they knew the truth about all the fancy television-inspired crime labs that could get DNA evidence back nearly instantly. The extraction of body fluid, the dropping of a sample of the fluid into a test tube, a flick of a switch and the spin of some centrifuge, and voilà, DNA results. In truth it took weeks and months to process, and then there was the matter of all the evidence that had been destroyed by the hurricane. Not only evidence that could convict a criminal, but evidence that might exonerate an innocent man. Or woman. It made him sick to think about it.

He locked the front door behind him, whistled to the dog, then with Bruno at his heels, walked briskly to his truck. The rain that had pummeled this part of Louisiana all day had stopped, leaving sodden ground and the air heavy with a thick mist that seemed to rise to the skeletal, bone white branches of the cypress trees.

A perfect night to discuss the subject of murder.

Hoisting himself easily from the pool, Vlad stood at the edge of the shimmering depths and felt the water cool upon his skin. The lamp beneath the water’s surface and the monitor of his small computer gave off the only light in this, his special retreat. He loved the kiss of the cold air against his wet flesh but had little time to savor it.

There was so much to do.

And one problem that nagged at him. He’d tried to ignore it, had spent months telling himself it was of no consequence, but with each passing day, he felt a little more irritated, a bit more compelled to correct his stupid mistake.

He’d hoped that the taking of the last girl would have calmed him, but it hadn’t. Not completely. Though Rylee’s ultimate submission and death thrilled him, the fact that he’d erred gnawed at him. Distracted him. Even now, he found himself biting his nails and spitting them into the pool, then forced himself to stop the disgusting habit he’d had since childhood, when he was certain his father would return, discover that he’d gotten into trouble, and lock him into the old outhouse.

At that thought his stomach convulsed, so he pushed all images of his childhood aside. After all, the old man had gotten his, hadn’t he?