“I think she’s our killer. I think she’s going after the people who brutalized her mother.”

“Powerful motive.”

“We need to put out a BOLO.”

“A lot of thirty-five-year-old white females out there.”

“Wait.” I recall my conversation with the lab technician from BCI. “There was a long hair found on Dale Michaels’s body. We don’t know if it’s from the killer or if he picked it up in the course of his day. It’s a blond hair that’s been dyed brown. Lab is working on ID’ing the donor now.”

“So now we have a thirty-five-year-old white female with brown hair.”

“It’s all we’ve got. Let’s put out a BOLO. If she’s driving without a license or proof of insurance, we might get lucky.”

“Could be using a stolen identity.”

I try not to groan. “Tell Mona and Jodie to stay on it. Tell them to search for the names Hochstetler and Weaver. First names Wanetta and Ruth. Cambria County, Pennsylvania. Nicktown. Nanty Glo. Tell them to look at everything. Blogs. Photos. Videos. News items. Whatever they can find. I’ll take anything at this point.”

“Got it.” Glock jots notes in the small pad he keeps in his uniform pocket. Without taking his eyes off the pad, he asks, “Chief, might not be a bad idea to try and smoke her out using Blue.”

“I thought of that, but there’s this pesky little detail called procedure. Could get sketchy with the lawyer, too.” I feel his eyes on mine, but I don’t look at him. I don’t want him to know I’d already seriously considered it.

“Wouldn’t be the first time cops used a witness to nab a bad guy.”

I meet his gaze and we stare at each other across the spans of my desk, our minds working over the logistics as we were considering doing something we shouldn’t be considering. “It’s a bad idea. Lots of things could go wrong.”

“On the other hand,” he says slowly, “it might be our best hope of getting our hands on Weaver. We keep it simple. Drive him back to his place and stay with him, out of sight. Make sure he’s visible. See what happens.”

“Things could go bad pretty fast, Glock. Blue could make a run for it. Weaver could take a shot at him.”

“So we put a vest on him.”

“Maybe an ankle monitor…” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I did not just say that.”

Glock grins. “Yes, you did. Sheriff’s Department has an ankle monitor, Chief. I can run over there and pick it up.”

My smile feels like wax on my face. “You’re not making it easy to say no.”

“This woman, this Ruth Weaver, is working fast,” he says. “We know Blue is a viable target. It could work.”