“Then I’ll deal with it. But my guess is, he’s a macho do-it-yourself kind of guy. After you boys put the dogs in the other cop’s car, he’ll be curious. If he’s downtown, once I trigger the alarm, he’ll show up in eight minutes.”

“You know where you’ll be and how to get out?”

“I’ll stay here. The bedroom has two doors—one to the living room, the other to a utility room that goes out the back door. I’ll choose the one he doesn’t.”

“What if you guess wrong?”

“Well, that’ll be a problem, won’t it? That’s why I brought the gun.”

(ii)

(THURSDAY, 7:45 P.M.)

Mahler waited beside Eden’s car on the second floor of the downtown parking garage. He’d arranged with Coyle to keep an eye on her for the night.

From the stairs came the sound of someone climbing. Mahler was about to call Eden’s name but stopped. A figure reached the top step and paused. It was Irwin Partridge.

Mahler watched Partridge position himself behind a beam with a view of the stairwell.

Quietly pulling out his gun, Mahler aimed across the garage at Partridge. The gunsight covered what he could see of Partridge’s head. He fingered the trigger.

It’s a sign, he thought. Do it. For an instant he imagined the scene unfolding: his finger pressing down, the Sig kicking, the shot echoing, Partridge falling. Over. Done. Just like that.

Light steps echoed in the stairwell. Mahler saw Eden reach the landing and look toward her car.

“Hey there, Chiclet.” Partridge was behind her in a dark corner of the stairwell.

Eden turned around to face him.

He smiled. “Now, if I killed those girls in the park, you’d be in a pretty bad spot right now, wouldn’t you?”

Mahler watched Eden feel for her gun.

“You really think you have time for that, darlin’?” Partridge shook his head. “Unsnap the holster, pull out the gun, flip off the safety, hold that big, old weapon of yours with both hands? All before I get there? You that sure of yourself?”

Eden hesitated. Her hand rested on top of the gun. “Are you threatening a police officer?”

“Am I? Here I thought I was just talking.”

“You’re a person of interest in a homicide investigation, confronting me in a threatening manner. I’d be justified in shooting you.”

“Really? You’ve done this before?”

From thirty yards away, Mahler watched them, his gun leveled on Partridge’s head and one finger near the trigger.

Eden unsnapped her holster and took out her Glock.

Partridge stepped forward again, raising his hands, palms out. “Apparently, I’m unarmed. Not even a cord in my pocket to wrap around your long, white neck, like the girls in the park.”

“What makes you think they were killed with a cord?”