Her lip curled. “Yeah, well, too bad about the Brad Pitt thing,” she said and Bentz could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. “And by the way, I want my lawyer. I’m not saying another word until we have some kind of deal.”

Martinez stopped by Hayes’s desk and handed him blowups of the picture of Olivia. “This is the hard copy of what they came up with in the lab.”

Technicians in the lab had analyzed the shot, which they’d enlarged and enhanced in an attempt to bring out every detail of the picture, even images that were hidden.

“They sent it to you via e-mail, too.”

“Got it,” Hayes said, bone tired. He compared the images, on the screen, on paper.

“It’s a boat, obviously,” Martinez said. Sliding her finger a bit, she touched the corner of the picture over Olivia’s head. “These puffy things stuffed in here? Life jackets. And take a look at those curved lines on the walls. Seems to be painted with stripes.” She pointed to a detail in another blowup. “They make that out to be the handle of an oar.”

“A boat. So she’s being held on the water somewhere?” Jonas touched the knot of his tie, thinking about that. “So in a marina probably? Or private boat slip? Or…even dry-docked?” He eyed each shot, looking for more details.

“Or out to sea.”

“Damn.” Something about the blowup nagged at him, tugged at his mind.

“We might have to coordinate a search effort with the Coast Guard.” Martinez brought him back to reality as she tapped another shot. “There’s an image that isn’t visible to the naked eye in this one. The lab thinks it’s a script, probably the name of the vessel on a life preserver. It ends in n, n, e.”

Hayes closed his eyes for a second, then looked again. She was right. The image resembled a life preserver. With the letters n, n, e stenciled on faintly.

The end of a boat’s name?

He blinked again, feeling a sense of dread crashing over him as he studied the original photo. It couldn’t be.

No way.

No fuckin’ way.

But the boat looked so damned familiar.

He’d seen those preservers, those oars. His insides turned to ice…no, it couldn’t be…but the proof was right in front of his eyes. Those letters on the life preserver, they were the last letters of the Merry Anne, the boat he and Corrine had used a couple of times…

Panic swept through him as his mind turned back to all the cancelled dates, the cell phone calls from God-only-knew where, the hot sex that never really became warm affection, the understanding of his job and the questions about his cases, and her keen interest in his work.