‘What?’

‘Dodge Viper? Sporty little number? Sound familiar?’ Cord’s tone suggested he wasn’t buying into Yarmini’s act.

Yarmini’s eyes flickered around the room. ‘Yeah, but it was stolen a few days ago.’

Cord feigned shock. ‘Stolen? Really? If it was stolen, why didn’t you report it?’

Manic energy radiated off Yarmini. ‘What?’

‘Why. Didn’t. You. Report. It? I mean, hot little number like that, I’d be on the phone to the police immediately.’

Alyssa skewered Yarmini with her glare, not giving him time to answer Cord’s question. ‘Was it stolen, or did you dump it like you did Meghan Jessup after you raped and murdered her?’

Like a spring-loaded trap, Yarmini bolted out of his chair and pressed his back against the wall. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know—’ His eyes widened into near-perfect circles.

Alyssa cut him off. ‘Do you know what’s great about science these days, Mr. Yarmini? We can determine assailants from the tiniest little things. Say for instance, bodily fluids discovered in a fourteen-year-old rape victim.’ The results from the lab hadn’t yet come back, but Yarmini didn’t need to know that.

Steve Yarmini paled at her announcement. ‘You’re lying,’ he sputtered, specks of spittle spraying outward and landing on the table.

‘Am I?’

Defeated, Yarmini sank back into his chair. ‘I demand to speak to my attorney before I say anything else.’

Alyssa stood and Cord pushed off the wall. ‘Of course. That is your right. In the meantime, you’ll be a guest of the Metropolitan Detention Center.’ At the door, her hand hovered above the handle as she twisted around, her smile stretched tight. ‘I do hope you’re aware that while prisoners are guilty of many things, they still hold grudges against child rapists and murderers.’ She had the satisfaction of watching all color drain from Yarmini’s face as she pulled open the door and walked out in search of someone to escort him to a holding cell.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Sunday, May 26

An unfamiliar perfume drifted in the air. Someone was in Rachel’s room, someone who wasn’t her brother. Her muscles turned into hot liquid, and she couldn’t get any of them to obey. She needed to be quiet, needed them not to know she was awake. Still, a whimper escaped.

‘Good morning.’ A voice like polished silver came from near the side of her bed, and Rachel’s eyes flew open. A nurse wearing camel-colored scrubs stood with a dry erase marker in one hand, eraser in the other. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. You were sleeping so well, I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m Bethany. I’ll be your nurse today. I was jotting my name and extension on your board over there in case you needed me for anything when you woke.’ The smile she wore was soft and kind, but it was the gentleness and understanding in her demeanor that made Rachel want to cry.

‘Where’s my brother? Can I have some water, please?’ She wondered if her voice would ever again sound like her own.