Erin’s hands began to shake. The weapon, the story noted, was a hacksaw. No fingerprints. No motive. Only a wallet identifying the victim as Thomas Farnen.

Quietly Erin wept as she read further. According to a neighbor, Mr. Farnen had recently lost his job as a salesman and had become a frequent visitor to the casinos. “He acted like slots were his job now,” the neighbor explained. “He even dressed up, like he was going to work.” The police had no other leads. Hoping for more news, maybe information that proved her theory wrong, Erin checked the Ledger’s online edition. They, too, carried the blotter item and a quote from a neighbor. Impulse had Erin shifting the mouse to a link for the ABC Murders article that had run earlier. Again she read her words, analyzing the victims, speculating about what had driven someone to murder them.

Through the sorrow, her mind supplied the words that would link his death to the others. That would make his murder the eighth in the series.

Tom Farnen was H. Another life had been added to the tally, as the killer had promised. Another letter closer to retribution.

Guilt gnawed at her as she burrowed into the sofa, staring at the brief recitation of Tom Farnen’s final minutes. Eyes closed, she recalled the moment in the vestibule, how he’d been sweetly concerned about her. She’d smiled at him, touched. Had that been the instant when Tom lost his life?

Tom Farnen. Rose Young. Harriet Knowles. Three new names to add to the roster of death, she thought. One name she may have been able to spare, if she’d avoided him yesterday.

Even as the distressing thought occurred, she knew better. Farnen had been the plan all along. The killer had known of his new avocation, had known of the trips to the bike shop. He knew her life inside out.

Chapter 17

Erin’s first thought was to call Gabriel. When she couldn’t find him at home or at the Ledger, she made a desperate call to Genevieve that proved equally fruitless.

Thinking he may have gone to the police station, she phoned Detective Iberville. A bored receptionist informed her that she hadn’t seen Gabriel. Out of options, Erin asked when Sylvie would return. The detective was off duty until two, and no, she couldn’t give Erin her number. If Gabriel showed up, she’d give him the message.

Perplexed by her urgency, Erin hung up the phone. She needed to hear his voice, to feel the touch of his hand taking hers. When had he become her talisman? Before, always, she’d been better alone. Once, in crisis, she’d turned to Sebastian, but only because she was too injured to take care of herself.