After wolfing down the leftover chicken, Kerry worked non-stop the remainder of the day on the clay reconstruction, taking only a small break to whip up a protein shake for dinner.

After seven hours of work, her accomplishments weren’t impressive. All she’d done was place the strips of clay around the skull’s forehead, cheek, and mouth area. At this rate, it would take her two weeks to finish the face.

Grandpa shuffled into the kitchen. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough for one day?” He looked through his bifocals at her work. “Hmm.”

“Does it look bad?” She thought this face was coming out better than #1 had at this stage, but she was not a good judge of her creations.

He touched one of the markers on the chin. “This one’s wobbly. You must be rushing. How about coming to bed? You can get up early and continue tomorrow.”

She jiggled the rubber. Crap. It did sway but only a little.

“Maybe you’re right.” Her fingers were having trouble keeping steady.

Kerry put the clay back into the plastic bag so it wouldn’t dry out, and then closed the box that contained the eyes and teeth. Jane Doe #3 was missing her number thirteen maxillary canine, her maxillary first molars, sixteen and twenty-six, and both of her mandible third molars. The rest were in good shape.

She yawned. Her grandfather was right. She was too exhausted to do a good job.

After Grandpa called Buster to bed, Kerry flipped off the kitchen light and jumped in the shower. The hot water pounded her back. It was pure heaven. Exhaustion dampened her defenses, and for a brief moment, she pictured herself sharing the watery paradise with a certain homicide detective.

She’d done the two-at-a-time wash-each-other experience only once, and Rod had turned out to be married. Her luck with men had always sucked. She’d moved to Tampa in part to be away from him. She also wanted to escape the pain of having lost her unborn child.

Hunter might be single, but from the way his face pinched when he spoke about Amy, she knew he was still deeply in love with his dead wife. Maybe that was a good thing. Kerry certainly didn’t need any more distractions surrounding this case.

Guilty about wasting water, she turned off the shower, towel dried, and pulled on a cotton nightgown. She slipped into bed, hoping for much needed recuperative sleep.

Instead of the deep sleep she craved, she would doze off, only to wake up a short while later, uncomfortable with the temperature. Her sheets were too hot, but when she’d kicked the top sheet off, she became too cold. Aargh.

She fell into a fitful dream state. Dark, scary images of someone in the backseat of her car with gleaming, wild eyes peering back at her in the rear view mirror darted through her subconscious. Then she dreamt of someone grabbing her by the ankles and dragging her into the woods while her face scraped against the rocky ground. When the mad man raised his arm to hit her, Kerry forced herself to wake up. Sweat drenched her nightgown.

She looked around to make sure no one was in her bedroom. Only eerie shadows from the moon danced on her wall. She listened for the sound of someone breathing but heard her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

It’s only a stupid dream. Go back to sleep.

Again she drifted off. This time, she dreamt someone in a red pickup truck was following her down a dark, narrow road and forced her off the road onto a muddy field. As he approached her car on foot, she tried to speed away, but the tires spun on the soft shoulder, trapping her. Damn. He pulled out a knife and pounded on her driver’s side window with the hilt.

Kerry sat straight up in bed, shaking. She debated working on her creation, but her mind was too frazzled to be effective.

Scratching sounds drifted in from the kitchen. She stilled. Buster? It must be. Yet she could have sworn she’d seen Grandpa take him into his bedroom, and he always closed his door to keep the dog from roaming around at night and waking her up. Maybe Grandpa had failed to shut it all the way. Yes, that was it.

Go to sleep, Kerry.

Aw hell. When her stomach was full, she often slept better. A protein bar would help with that.

She tiptoed out of the room into the hallway. Not wanting the light to leak under Grandpa’s door, she left it off.

Once in the kitchen, she went past the refrigerator and headed into the pantry. The scant light from the glowing microwave clock was enough to light her way. The protein bars sat on the back shelf in a plastic bin. Thank goodness for Grandpa’s insanely neat pantry, because she knew exactly where to reach. He’d even arranged his spices alphabetically.

She grabbed a long smooth bar, turned around, and headed back to the hallway, careful not to bump into the kitchen table on the way out. She ate her feast on the way and dropped into bed the moment she returned.

A loud knock sounded on her door, and it took a moment to realize she wasn’t dreaming. She opened her eyes. Soft rays of daybreak had filtered into her room. “Yes?”

“Kerry, you need to come see this.” Grandpa sounded scared to death.

“What’s wrong?”

“Come quickly.”

Oh shit. She moved super fast, not bothering to change out of her nightgown.

A minute later, she stared at a note on the fridge written in red magic marker. The handwriting was shaky. “Be happy it was dark.”

“What does that mean?” Grandpa asked.

Kerry’s breath sucked right down to her toes, and her legs trembled. “I d-don’t.. know. I didn’t write it.” Her mind raced. “I came in here last night for something to eat. I didn’t turn on the light when I grabbed a protein bar.” Her eyes widened as she clasped a hand over her mouth. Oh, shit. “Could someone have been in here when I was here?” Bile threatened to erupt.

“That’s who Buster must have been growling at. I’m sorry. I thought you were prowling around and Buster was confused. Oh, my God. I should have seen what upset him.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He twisted her shoulders toward him. “Are you okay? The prowler didn’t harm you or anything, did he?”

“No. I never saw him.” She couldn’t bring in enough air.

Grandpa wrapped his arms around her. “If anything happened to you, it would kill me.”

“I’m fine.” Physically. “If only I’d turned on the light.”

Grandpa held her at arm’s lengths. “My God, no. He would have harmed you for sure.”

Kerry swallowed hard. Grandpa lowered his arms, and she looked over his shoulder. Her heart stopped. “Where did you put my skull?” Her case with the eyes and teeth remained where she’d left it.

“I didn’t touch anything.” Grandpa looked around in confusion.

Goddamn it. “He stole it.” Acid burned in her stomach as she raced to the table, praying she set the head on the floor, only it wasn’t there either. “It was the only evidence I had to identify her.” Sweat beaded on her forehead. “Now #3 will never have a name.”

He patted her back. “As long as you’re unharmed, that’s all that matters. We’ll find the skull.”

“How?”

“Sit down and call Hunter. I’ll locate a locksmith to see if he can replace the locks. I’ll have an alarm system installed. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The ramification hit her. This maniac could have killed Grandpa.

Or her. But he hadn’t.

This time.

Hunter would figure this out. She grabbed her phone. Crap. This was a crime scene. She jumped up. “We need to leave the kitchen. The forensic team doesn’t need us messing with trace evidence.”

“I agree.”

She paced the living room as Hunter’s phone rang. Come on. She didn’t like waking him early on a Sunday morning, but she had no choice.

“Markum.”

His voice came out calm, helping her breath. “It’s me, Kerry.” She couldn’t control the sob that bubbled up from her throat. “Someone broke into our house.”

“Shit. Are you hurt?”

“No. No. He stole the skull!”

“The what?”

“The #3 reconstruction I was working on.”

“Lock your doors. I’ll be right over. And Kerry?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes?”

“Don’t answer the phone or the door unless it’s me, okay?”

Like she would? “Okay.”

They waited for Hunter in the living room. All she could do was stare into space.

“Everything will be okay, Kerry. We’ll lock this place up real tight.”

The doors had been locked up real tight last night. That didn’t stop the thief. Frustration made her want to pound something, scream at someone, but the horror kept her too numb to act out her anger. She wasn’t worried about herself though. She was worried about Grandpa being alone when she was at work, and she worried Jane Doe #3’s family would never have closure. Yes, she could have a forensic artist do a 2-dimensional drawing of the photograph of the skull, but it wouldn’t be as good as the real thing.

After what seemed like an hour, a loud rap sounded on the door. Hunter. Kerry raced to answer his knock. She checked the peephole, saw his worried expression and opened the door. Without giving any thought to the consequences, she stepped close to him and leaned into his chest. Hunter wrapped his arms around her, bringing her great solace.

She backed away and wiped the tears that had trickled down her cheeks. “I can’t believe he stole the skull. I never should have brought it home.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You couldn’t have known. Listen, I’ve called the crime scene unit. They should be here any minute.” He placed a warm hand on her waist and led her over to the sofa. “Sit down.”

As if he were psychic, a van pulled into their drive. He stepped over to the bay window. “It’s them.”

Hunter greeted Crandall Pickford, the same person who’d been the lead CSU person on the Jane Doe cases, and his four assistants. Hunter introduced them to her grandfather.

“Kerry, can you show us what was disturbed?” Hunter used a soft, soothing voice.

She nodded. Only then did she notice her rather see-through nightgown. “Can you wait a sec for me to put something on?” She crossed her arms, but when Hunter’s gaze dropped to her breasts, she refused to address how warm and powerful that made her feel.

“Sure.” Hunter stepped in front of her, blocking the men’s view as she raced to her room.

She threw on a pair of jeans, a sports bra and T-shirt. So as not to gather any additional evidence on the soles of her feet, she slipped on a pair of sneakers. She marched out of her room and hurried to the kitchen entrance. “He came in through there.” She pointed toward the back door.

“How do you know he came in through the back?” Hunter asked.

“The deadbolt on the front door was still locked this morning.”

The technicians went to work, photographing and dusting every conceivable surface, measuring distances as they went.

Hunter stayed with her at the kitchen entrance. He leaned in close. “Are you okay?” She looked up at him. “I mean really okay?”

“I’m so angry I could spit. Why did he have to take the evidence?”

“It tells me we’re getting near, and that one person probably perpetrated these crimes. He’s scared to death we’ll find the identities of these women and then find him.”

Grandpa stepped behind them. “I’m going to ask Frank, Chuck, and Richard to begin twenty-four hour surveillance on the house.”

“Great,” Hunter said.

Hunter placed a gentle hand on her waist, and another tingle of anticipation took her mind off her despair for a brief moment.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked. She could smell his minty mouthwash.

“Sure.”

With her grandfather transfixed watching the technicians, Hunter sidled over to the front door. “I’m sure your grandfather’s friends mean well, but if this guy was able to get into your house without your knowledge, he could probably pick off the old men one at a time.”

Another wave of fear skittered up her spine. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’ve succeeded.”

“I’m sorry, but you need to face reality. You’re obviously not safe in this house. I know you won’t like this suggestion, but I think you should move in with me.”