The hacksaw vibrated for an instant. Pulling it free, gloved hands turned it toward the light, fascinated by the patterns of humanity on its blade. How easily life ended. How precarious.

The remains of Tom Farnen lay on the ground, head staring up at an awkward angle. Eyes frozen in fear asked the question he had not.

“Why?” As the killer checked the body for remnants of Tom’s winnings, the question was asked for him. “Because you helped the bitch. Men, women. We’re all the same. We help her, but she doesn’t see it. She’s too good for us. Men are the most gullible for her type.” The hacksaw was placed near his neck. “She is a parasite. A fraud. And what she doesn’t understand, she destroys. But I will finish her first.”

THE PAPER THUDDED against her door at dawn on Monday, but Erin was already up. The muggy morning had stolen through the bedroom windows she left ajar, waking her from dreams of tall, handsome men chasing secrets. Chasing her. When the face in the dream shifted from Nathan to a shadowy figure, then to Gabriel, she hadn’t known whether to keep running or to stop and be caught by one of them and face judgment.

Stumbling out of bed, she went into the living room, where she sat curled into the great chair, sipping tea and trying not to think. Since January, life had been blessedly dull. No stories on the missing Nathan Rhodes. Analise Glover had disappeared, after years of slowly evaporating. If nothing else, she could thank Nathan for giving her the courage to leave. Years as a curiosity to be devoured by scientists and press and passersby had stolen the daring she’d had as a child.…

“Let me come, Sebastian,” a ten-year-old Analise had whined.

“I’ve already told you no a hundred times.” Sebastian checked the collar on his shirt. Perfect. He looked like a nice young man out for a walk in the park. Then he patted the cards stashed in his back pocket. In a couple of hours, he’d have enough cash for a beer and cigarettes. Barely fifteen, he’d have to ask one of the older boys to buy for him. But since he’d be treating, they wouldn’t mind.

Analise read his mind and the telltale pat of his pocket. She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Take me, or I’ll tell your mom that you’re gambling in Gramercy Park.”

Sebastian blanched and hauled Analise into the bathroom, slamming the door. If his mother heard her, he’d be grounded until Judgment Day, assuming Saint Peter showed some pity. “What the hell are you talking about?”