“Look, the investigation is ongoing. I was just talking to Detective Hayes from the LAPD. He was my partner for the years I was on the force. He tells me nothing is certain yet. There will be an autopsy. Lab tests. You know how those things go. The final report could take weeks.”

“Won’t they rush the autopsy?”

Bentz shrugged. “It’s not really an emergency. And they’ll be extremely thorough. Caldwell was convicted of heinous acts, didn’t have a lot of fans in prison. The Department of Corrections will want to make sure everything was on the up-and-up.”

“You’ve heard Brianna Hayward’s theory,” Bridges pressed on. “Do you really think Donovan Caldwell was the 21 Killer?”

Bentz wanted to stick to the company line, that, of course, the LAPD had gotten their man, but in light of recent findings, he wasn’t a hundred percent certain. Before he could come up with a suitable answer, he heard a ruckus out in the hallway.

Once again, Nellie’s sharp voice could be heard over the usual hubbub of cell phones, voices, printers, and the air-conditioning fans.

“I’m sorry, but Detective Bentz is with someone right now.”

“Tough! I have to talk to him. Now.” The woman’s voice sounded close to hysteria. Lately, it seemed, it was the story of his life.

“If you can wait—”

“No way! This is a damned emergency. My name’s Zoe Denning and my mom says Detective Bentz has been looking for me.”

“Denning?” Nellie repeated as Bentz shot to his feet and Jase Bridges, who hadn’t yet sat down, stepped into the hallway.

“She’s my daughter,” another voice said as a shriek loud enough to wake the dead in the neighboring parishes ricocheted through the station.

Bentz grabbed his sidearm and ran out the door to the hallway, where a terrified Zoe Denning cowered as she stared, wide-eyed, at Jase Bridges. The girl was a mess, with stringy hair, her skin burned and streaked with mud. But she was alive. And in a panic.

“It’s him!” she cried. Frantic, she scrambled backward, trying to get away from Bridges. “He’s the psycho who grabbed me! Him! For the love of God, somebody get him!”

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 30

“For the love of God!” Zoe screamed at the sight of the freak. “He’s the one! He’s the perv who’s got Chloe!” What the hell was he doing here? At the police station? All cleaned up and . . . “For the love of God! Arrest him,” she said, panic flooding through her. This was wrong. So very wrong.

“Miss—?” The cop who followed him into the hallway looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Are you all right?”

“Do I look all right? Did you hear me?” she said, her voice rising, anger and rage beating through her.

“Miss—?” The damned cop again.