“It took him ten days to find the next victim. He wanted to draw attention to his crime, but he knew it would be a while before the links were made. I closed on the condo a couple of weeks later.”

“At the bank?”

“No,” she answered. “I did most of the paperwork electronically.”

“From here?”

“Here and from the office. That’s why I didn’t remember Mr. Singleton. We never met.” She lifted the loan contract. “I mailed in my paperwork, after I signed it.”

Unable to sit any longer, Gabriel wandered over to the window. “But someone knew he was your loan officer. The banker. Bludgeoned. Again, simple clues, but not dispositive until someone noticed the pattern.”

“Now he’s in the thick of it. Two dead bodies. Neither kill is spectacular, though. With number three, he wanted to demonstrate his cleverness and his education. He used an obscure Middle French spelling and the cultural knowledge of a native dance to make his association.” Another thought clicked. “Maggie was G because he was watching me and her. The wire, the violence of it—it was about emotion again. Rage that she could show me kindness.”

Gabriel heard her voice break, could hear the coating of shame. Not yet, he thought. You won’t get her yet. “D and F are missing.”

Looking up, Erin nodded. “I know. Without access to police files, I can’t make the connection.”

He dug in his pocket for his car keys. “That’s where I come in. I’ll get you inside the police station. We can locate the files from the right time periods and see what we find.”

Then he jerked her close, and his mouth closed over hers in a searing kiss. When neither could breathe, he lifted his head. “Be ready to go when I get back.”

SYLVIE IBERVILLE MOTIONED in her late-afternoon visitor. “Look who finally decided to stop by. Been too busy stirring up trouble to return my call?”

Gabriel ignored the chair to lean against the filing cabinet, long legs crossed at the ankles. “Something like that. How are you?”

“Fit to be tied. And you?” Sylvie answered as she settled into her chair, stifling an angry sigh. Men like Gabriel Moss tripped the heart and accelerated the pulse. But they rarely stood still long enough to grab hold of. In her younger days, Sylvie had enjoyed a brief romance with Lincoln Moss, Gabriel’s daddy. Then Lincoln had met her best friend, Nadia, and Sylvie became an aunt to their two kids. Still, one look at Gabriel reminded her of a young Lincoln and a time she’d never forget.

“Don’t be mad at me, Sylvie. Who else can save the world and make the best beignets outside Café du Monde?”

Boy had always been a charmer, working his way around justified anger. She could feel the heat settle, but she wouldn’t smile at him. “Better, boy. Mine are better.”