They walked up the sidewalk, stopping to pick up two days worth of newspapers. Morgan rang the bell, hearing it echo inside the house. No one came to the door. He rang again. The bell worked. He could clearly hear it chiming away, but nothing else. No movement. Maybe hes not home.

Hes home. Danielle knocked hard, three times on the door just like shed knocked on his door the other night when hed tried to ignore her. Had that only been two days ago? Ward Dolan, she barked. FBI. Open the door, please.

That got a response. Through the long narrow windows beside the door, Morgan saw a man come into the entryway. The door flew open. FB-what?

If Morgan hadnt known they were at Dolans house, he wouldnt have recognized him. The man he remembered from those encounters had been expensively dressed, carefully manicured, a bit of a peacock.

This guy . . . this guy was a slob. Unshaven, wearing sweatpants that seemed to have doubled as a napkin. His skin was a pasty white as if he hadnt been outside in days and his hair clung greasily to his head. Morgan could smell the booze on the mans breath from across the threshold.

FBI, Danielle repeated. May we come in, Dr. Dolan? Wed like to ask you some questions about Michelle Schultz, Lexa Windham, and Brianna Olson.

Dolan took a stumbling step backward as Danielle entered the house. Morgan followed and stopped in the entry way. Something was very wrong here.

A single lamp stood in the sunken living room, its cord trailing across the floor, not plugged into an outlet. There was no other furniture. Two boxes sat side by side, flaps open.

Stark? Dolan said. What the hell are you doing here? Did your bitch wife send you?

Morgan rounded on him. Excuse me?

Dolan leaned forward, enunciating in the way only the very drunk can manage. I asked if your bitch wife sent you.

Morgan took a step toward him, but Danielle grabbed his arm. She might be slight, but her grip was like iron. He looked down at her and she gave him a quick head shake. He sucked in a breath. Fine. Hed let her ask some questions, but he was not leaving here without making sure Dolan regretted talking about Ashley like that.

Is there some place we can sit down to talk? Danielle asked.

Dolan shrugged and ambled off to the right. They walked through a door into a beautiful chefs kitchen that had not been treated kindly lately. The counter was stacked with empty take-out containers and beer bottles. Nobody had cooked here in quite a while. Sorry, Dolan said as he walked through. Got a little behind on the housekeeping now that the wifes gone. The whole place smelled like rotting food.