My gut clenched, and I flipped the report closed. Suddenly cold, I stared out of Glenn’s door to the open offices. A phone rang, and someone picked it up. I took another breath, and held it. I forced myself to breathe, holding it again so I wouldn’t hyperventilate.

I suppose, in a loose fashion, it could be considered rape. The woman’s insides had been pulled out from between her legs and were dangling to her knees. I wondered how long she had stayed alive through the ordeal, then wished I hadn’t. Stomach turning, I vowed to not look at any more pictures.

Fingers shaking, I tried to concentrate on the report. The FIB had been surprisingly thorough, leaving me with only one question. Stretching, I snagged the cordless phone from the desk. My jaw hurt from having clenched it too long as I dialed the number listed for next of kin.

An older man answered. “No,” I assured him when he tried to hang up on me. “I’m not a dating service. Vampiric Charms is an independent runner firm. I’m currently working with the FIB to identify the person who attacked your wife.”

The picture of her lying twisted and broken on the gurney flashed before me. I shoved it down to where it would probably stay until I tried to sleep. I hoped he hadn’t seen the picture. I prayed he hadn’t found her body.

“I apologize for calling, Mr. Graylin,” I said in my best professional voice. “I have only one question. Did your wife happen to talk to a Mr. Trent Kalamack anytime before her death?”

“The councilman?” he said, his voice thick with astonishment. “Is he a suspect?”

“Perish the thought,” I lied. “I’m following up one of the faint leads that we have concerning a stalker working his way up to him.”

“Oh.” There was a moment of silence, then, “Yes. As a matter of fact, we did.”

The zing of adrenaline pulled me upright.

“We met him at a play this spring,” the man was saying. “I remember because it was the Pirates of Penzance, and I thought the lead pirate looked like Mr. Kalamack. We had dinner afterwards at Carew Tower and laughed about it. He’s not in any danger, is he?”

“No,” I said, my heart pounding. “I’d ask you to keep our line of investigation quiet until we’ve proven it false. I’m very sorry about your wife, Mr. Graylin. She was a lovely woman.”

“Thank you. I miss her.” He hung up the phone in the uncomfortable silence.

I set the phone down, waiting three heartbeats before whispering an exuberant, “Yes!” Spinning my swivel chair around, I found Glenn standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” he asked, dropping another stack of papers before me.

I grinned, continuing to shift back and forth in my chair. “Nothing.”

He went to his desk and punched a button on the phone’s cradle, frowning as the last number called appeared on the tiny screen. “I never said you could call these people.” His face went angry and his posture became stiff. “That man is trying to put this behind him. He doesn’t need you dredging it up for him again.”