She had been at the trial. She had been a witness in the case against George Calabria. For the defense.

She had been young then, just twenty-one. But she had spoken with dignity, even though half of the time she spoke, tears had blurred her green eyes. She was tall, slim, and had hair so red it was like a fire. Not orangish-red, not auburn-red. Fire-red.

She could never be missed or mistaken for anyone else.

She was Kaitlyn Delaney, daughter of the couple killed on the boat in the Keys twelve years ago.

The fifteen-year-old who had risen from a dive to find her parents in a different sea—a sea of blood.

And she was here. In New Orleans.

He’d known that she’d moved, that an uncle or someone was raising her here and she had only returned to Florida for the trial. With everything else, he had forgotten that Katie Delaney lived here now.

He inhaled deeply.

Yes, of course she’d have heard about the murders. The media was broadcasting little else.

So she was here. In New Orleans.

Where some supposed Axeman was striking once again.

And Dan had to wonder just what her involvement might be, and if she might be helpful—or if her defense of her parents’ old friend just might waylay justice once again.

CHAPTER TWO

Katie thought she’d gotten good—very good—at appearing calm, confident and assured whenever she talked about the past.

But the officer she wound up speaking with was nothing short of annoying. He was trying all her hard-earned patience.

“Listen, miss, I’m very sorry about your story, but this is New Orleans. And you’re trying to tell me about something that happened twelve years ago over five hundred miles away.”

“Not only twelve years ago,” Katie said. “Six years ago, too. The killers were never caught. My parents were killed on their boat out in the Gulf. Later, an elderly couple and their niece were killed in their apartment in Orlando. The murders were carried out with two weapons according to the medical examiners. An axe or hatchet and a knife. The bodies weren’t completely dismembered, but they were torn apart, a limb here or there, cut so thoroughly as to be detached or almost off. The medical examiners did consult, they believe the murders were committed by the same killer or killers. You need to know this. You need to consult with law enforcement in Florida because this is quite possibly the same killer, and anything they can share might help you find them.”

“Miss, again, I’m sorry,” the officer said. “We have important business to get through here. We just don’t have time for amateur hour, though if your story is true, again I’m sorry.”

“Stanley, that’s enough!” a deep voice rumbled from the doorway.