He nodded. “They’re going to throw her in jail. Mike’s coming over right now. He said he has something to show us.”

She closed her book, dropping it on the floor next to her. “When is this all going to end?”

“Soon I hope.”

Tritia was silent for a moment. “What if someone kills him?”

Doug was shocked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while.” She stood up excitedly. “What if someone cuts his brake lines or shoots him or—”

“Trish!”

“Why not? Can you think of any reason why not?”

“Because… because it’s wrong.”

“That’s not much of an argument.”

“Killing is not an option,” he said. “I don’t want to discuss it anymore.”

“Fine.” She picked up her book from the floor, turned to the page she had marked, and began reading. He stared at her as she read, but there was no anger in her face, no defiance, no resignation, nothing but a relaxed ease. He realized that he was worried about her, about what she might try. He didn’t entirely trust her. He was going to have to watch her very carefully from now on.

True to his word, Mike pulled up in the drive fifteen minutes later. He was wearing not his uniform but his street clothes, and under his arm he carried a large photo album.

Doug met him on the porch. “Hi.”

Mike looked around. “So this is where you live. I always wondered what a teacher’s house looks like.”

“The same as everyone else’s.” Doug pointed toward the boarded-up window and the splintered holes in the wall. “Compliments of some of our mailman’s rock-throwing friends.”

“Did you report that?”

Doug shook his head. “What’s the point?”

“Well, if we can ever find a way to tie all these together, we can nail his ass once and for all, put him away for good.”

Doug smiled wryly. “Yeah. Right.” He opened the door. “Come on in.” Mike followed him inside. “So you have the weapon.”

“That’s right.”

“What does Giselle say about it?”

Mike shook his head. “We don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Don’t you have her in custody?”

“We can’t find her,” the policeman admitted. “Her mother says she hasn’t been home for three days. Smith claims he hasn’t seen her since the afternoon of the murder.”

“You think he killed her?”

“Who knows?” Mike shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

“Why don’t you hold him on suspicion of murder?”

“Without a body?”

“Kidnapping, then.”

Mike sighed. “We’re doing what we can.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

Tritia stood up and Mike nodded to her. “Hello, Mrs. Albin.”

She smiled back. “Hello.” She glanced at Doug. “I’m going to bed. You don’t need me for anything out here, do you?”

He looked over at the clock. “It’s only eight-thirty.”

“I’ve had a busy day.”