“Just our usual, baby, with a little extra hot sauce thrown in,” the killer’s voice said.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice quavering as his gloved hand held up a scalpel in the mirror and twirled it, and its steel blade caught the light.

The sound of fabric slitting as he cut open her robe, her lacy red bra. It was a shelf bra, and her breasts protruded from it, her nipples exposed. He slit off her matching red lacy panties. He turned the camera on the pink robe and pink slippers and the bra as he dropped them into the tub. His gloved hands waved the cut lacy red panties in front of the camera lens.

“Capturing the flag.” His Hispanic voice. “In my pocket so I can enjoy later, right, little girl?”

“Let’s don’t,” she said. “I don’t think I can.”

“Should have thought about that when you told the little man all our secrets.”

“I didn’t tell him. You sent the e-mails. That’s how.”

“Now, that was a really big mess you made. How’s that going to work? He complained to the fucking DA. How’s that going to work, baby? I trusted you. I did you a favor. And you told him.”

“I never told him. He told me. You were sending him the e-mails, and finally he told me. He got freaked out. Why? Why are you doing this?” And it sounded as if she said Juan.

“You gonna ask me why anything?” The scalpel stroking the air, almost touching her cheek, then withdrawing and vanishing.

“No.”

“So, who’s your man? The little one. Or me?”

“You are,” her terrified face said to the mirror, his gloved hands pinching her nipples.

“Now you know that’s not right, or you wouldn’t have told him.” The killer’s voice chiding her.

“I promise I didn’t. He found out because of the e-mails, those maps you sent him. He told me. You scared him.”

“Now, baby.” Pinching her nipples harder. “I don’t want to hear no more of your lies. And now I gotta figure out how to get that fucking thing out of his ass before somebody else does.”

Lucy hit pause, and the recording froze on a blurry image of Terri’s wide-eyed face talking while his hands squeezed her breasts in the mirror.

“Right there,” Lucy said. “The way he says it. Possible he’s hinting he’s going to murder Oscar? He’s going to be the one to retrieve the thing out of his ass?”

“I’m wondering the same thing,” Berger said.

She triple-underlined a key phrase in notes on her legal pad: Terri’s idea—GPS?