“The guy who raped her…he was calling her Danielle during the…the assault.” She glanced at her quickly. “His face was…well, he was in clown makeup.”

“Oh, God,” Dani whispered. “Why? Why is he doing this? Why go after somebody else?”

“Maybe just to let us know that he can. He wanted to make sure that we knew it was him. Before he left, he untied her so she could get free. So she could call the police.”

“So that I would know.”

Harper was amazed at her astuteness. “Yes.”

Harper stopped at the red light, looking into her rearview mirror. Reid was right behind them. She looked over at Dani, seeing her fingering the gold necklace that she wore around her neck.

“He wants me to know that that’s what he’s going to do to me,” Dani continued.

Harper should have said no, that it meant no such thing, but Dani was looking into her eyes, seeing the truth there.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Dani reached over and squeezed her arm. “I’m so happy I picked you.” Then she smiled. “And I bet you are doubly excited to have been picked by me.”

Harper laughed. “Glad you still have a sense of humor about it all.”

The smile left Dani’s face. “Seriously, Harper. What if I’d picked someone else?”

“They’d be doing the same thing I am.”

“Would they?”

Harper drove on when the light turned green. Would they? She’d like to think that they would. But yeah, it was a bit unorthodox letting Danielle Stevens spend 24/7 with her. But after yesterday, there’s no way she’d let Dani out of her sight. She glanced over and gave her a quick smile. “They would have probably fed you better than I have. We seem to have missed more meals than we’ve had.”

* * *

“Did the victim connect being called ‘Danielle’ to Ms. Stevens?” Mize asked.

“I don’t think so,” Reid said.

Mize turned to her. “How’s Stevens holding up?”

Harper looked through the window in his office, seeing Dani at her desk. She was sitting with her legs crossed and appeared to be calm, but Harper saw the unconscious movement of her index finger as it tapped against her thigh nervously.

“She’s okay. Concerned, obviously. She feels responsible for the rape yesterday.”

Mize leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together. “As she should,” he said callously. “So we’ve got a stalker in clown makeup. He’s been tracking Ms. Stevens. Follows her to Dallas. We find the tracking device and try to lure him into a trap. Somehow he knows this. So instead—perhaps in retaliation—he picks a victim at random, in her own apartment, and rapes her. And leaves his calling card—a doll.”

“And for good measure,” Reid added, “he leaves a damn doll at my apartment.”