“I’m talking serious tired. As in waking up and not wanting to get out of bed and dragging myself through the day.”

“Sorry,” I said.

He picked up a strand of linguini. Sucked it into his mouth the way little kids do. “I’ll be fine.”

* * *

Two days later, he called.

“Daney mighta wiped his Jeep down, but it’s a forensic trove. Pubic hairs, semen, tiny specks of blood in the ribbing underneath the door. Also, I just got a call from downtown. My request for DNA has been approved and will be sent to Cellmark expeditiously. If I don’t hear back within ninety days, give a call.”

“Any word on Cherish and Barnett?”

“Not that I’ve heard, but I might not hear.”

“Not in the loop.”

“The only loop of substance was the one around that bastard’s neck. Anyway, Rick and I are leaving for Hawaii, thought I’d call to let you know.”

“Good for you.”

“Condo rental on the big island, ten days.”

“Thought you don’t tan.”

“So I’ll sauté.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Twenty minutes if the E.T.D. on the board is accurate.”

“You’re at the airport?”

“Love this place. Two hours of security line worked by morons. I had to take off my shoes, they tossed my carry-on, frisked me. Meanwhile, everyone else, including a guy who could be Osama’s twin, sails through.”

“Must be your dangerous demeanor.”

“If they only knew.”

* * *

Detective Judy Weisvogel didn’t phone that day, but the following morning I came back from running and found a message from my service. I’d hoped it was Allison. Told myself Allison had her hands full and maybe I needed some of that, myself.

I reached Weisvogel at her downtown office.

“Thanks for calling back, Doctor. Still willing?”

“I am.”

“From what we can tell, you were right. He only molested Valerie and Monica Strunk. Valerie won’t talk to you but Monica seems okay with it. You’d be more qualified to say but she seems awfully dull to me, pretty close to retarded. Or maybe it’s trauma.”

“That would fit,” I said. “Valerie was his number one choice. Monica was brought in for backup.”

“Bastard,” she said. “Can’t say I’m losing sleep over what happened to him.”

“How’d Valerie take the news?”

“She doesn’t know yet. Didn’t know if I should tell her, seeing as she still talks about him as if he was Jesus. Damned Stockholm syndrome. What do you think?”

“Find her someone she can relate to and ask them.”

“Good idea. She’s got no family other than some distant cousins who want nothing to do with her.”

“Poor kid,” I said.

“Poor everybody. So when can you start?”

“I’ll come by tomorrow.”