“The good news is that Conor is off the cops’ radar.” Damian handed her a sandwich. “Police surveillance is an irrefutable alibi.”

Louisa set it on the bench next to her without unwrapping it.

Chewing, he nudged her sandwich toward her. “It’s pulled pork. Eat it. The world is a terrible place full of terrible people. Starving yourself isn’t going to change that.”

She opened it and took a bite without tasting anything.

Damian lowered his lunch. “I know you’re having trouble accepting all this, but those three girls aren’t coming back.”

Louisa’s next breath hitched in her chest. She looked up at the sunshine glinting on water droplets in the fountain’s spray like diamonds under a jeweler’s loupe. The beauty of the afternoon felt like a sacrilege, as if all pleasure and beauty in the world should cease existing while parents mourned the deaths of their children. Even as one predator was stopped, all over the world, the wicked preyed on the innocent. There was no shortage of evil opportunists.

She gave up on her lunch. “I know. I just pray the police have the right man. I don’t want any more young women to get killed.”

Damian escorted her back to the museum. Louisa went back to her office but couldn’t concentrate on her paperwork. Conor called to tell her about the videos he’d found in Heath’s house. He’d been tied up with the police all morning. She decided to work on finishing out the Celtic Warrior exhibit. It didn’t matter that the grand opening had been pushed back. The work needed to get done, and physical tasks took less focus. She headed to the third floor with a list of items still needed for the life-size diorama.

She got off the elevator and skirted a ladder in the hallway. A technician in a security company uniform was mounting a small camera to the ceiling. She spent an hour sorting through fake rocks and tufts of grass in the prop room. Then she went into the apparel room and started searching for a proper helmet for one of her warrior mannequins.

Louisa stifled a sob. She was going to miss her intern, and not just because of her superior knowledge of Celtic history. Zoe’s youthful energy and drive would be sadly lacking in the office.

Her arms were full. Why hadn’t she brought a box with her? Spying a large cardboard box behind the shelves, she rounded the unit and opened it. But it wasn’t empty. Inside were a number of small personal items: a bottle of antacids, an iPod, a flashlight, a pen, mints, dental floss, and a bottle of ibuprofen that looked exactly like the one that had been in her desk drawer. A museum brochure was tucked under the jumble. Could she have found the museum thief’s stash?