Vince was confident Morgan had not worked in concert with Peter Crane in the See-No-Evil murders. Crane’s killings had been the highly methodical and ritualistic work of a man with a very specific sexually sadistic fantasy.

Marissa Fordham’s murder had been a rage killing, pure and simple. She had been stabbed and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed until her killer’s rage was spent. The removal of her breasts and the placement of the knife protruding from her vagina had been postmortem statements.

Now Vince had to find out if Steve Morgan possessed that kind of rage.

He got out of his car and flipped up the collar of his coat against the continuing drizzle, and walked across the street to the office of Quinn, Morgan, et al. He greeted the receptionist with his most charming smile.

“Vince Leone to see Mr. Morgan,” he said.

The young woman frowned and whispered, “I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan isn’t seeing clients today.”

“Please just let him know I’m here,” Vince whispered back. “I think he’ll see me.”

He helped himself to a butterscotch from the candy dish on the counter while the woman called Morgan.

The outer office was very tastefully done in shades of gray with touches of teal and burgundy. It said MONEY, but quietly, and established a feeling of calm and trustworthiness one would want from a family attorney.

“You can go right in, Mr. Leone,” the receptionist murmured.

“Thank you.”

Steve Morgan sat behind his big desk looking like the losing side of a prizefight. Mendez had popped him good. Both eyes were black—one more so than the other—and his nose was a mushy purple lump taped to his face. That the guy wasn’t going to sue the department suggested to Vince a big whopping dose of self-loathing. On some level Morgan must have thought he had it coming.

“I must really be a suspect now,” Morgan said. “They’ve brought out the Big Gun.”

Vince held his hands up. “No tricks up my sleeves. I’m not a cop anymore. I’m retired from the Bureau.”

“I will argue that you’re acting as an agent of the sheriff’s office.”

“Nothing you say here can or will be used against you in a court of law.”

“So you’re just here for the hell of it?”

“I saw Sara today.”

“Oh.”

Vince helped himself to a seat. They looked at each other for a moment. Each trying to read the other’s mind before the chess match began.

“Is she having me arrested?”

“For what? Have you broken the law?”

“She was pretty upset when she threw me out of my own house last night.”

“Sounds like you had a pretty big helping of upset yourself.”

“I don’t like being accused of things I didn’t do,” Morgan said. “Especially by my wife. You know, I took those vows pretty seriously.”