It had been three days since their visit to the cemetery, and Trevor was hovering over Lara who was sitting at the hotel room desk checking her emails. She looked over her shoulder. “Ugh.”

“What is it?”

“A message from the lab.” She read the contents twice. “There’s no ketovencuronium in George Sanchez’s system. I was so sure the same person who killed him also killed Tanya Dansler and Diana Gladstone.”

“Maybe the drug leached out of his system after he died.”

“It’s possible. I know very little about this how this drug interacts with the body. I’ll have to check with someone in the Chem Lab.”

He stepped to the side of the desk. “Are you sure the body is Sanchez’s? You said you didn’t find a tattoo on his shoulder.”

“There was a tattoo, only it didn’t look like a snake probably because the skin had turned to leather. Kerry Markum, one of the other forensic anthropologists told me about a trick she uses to bring tattoos to life. I plan to try her technique.”

“So you might be able to tell if it’s him.”

“Yes. Just in case the technique doesn’t work, I sent his DNA to the lab. Bernie’s still on vacation, thank goodness. I’ve been told the replacement is a speed demon. We should hopefully hear in a few days.”

“Nice the lab stays open seven days a week.”

She typed ketovencuronium into Google. “I agree. And when you get the DNA sample from George’s parents we can compare the two.” Lara half turned around. “To me, the facial structure appears to match the photo, but I realize guesswork has little place in the identification process.”

Trevor dragged the large stuffed chair next to the desk. “Would the medical examiner have asked for a tox screen at the time of death?”

“Given the guy’s throat was slit, I’m betting not.” Her cell vibrated on her hip. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“Lara Romano?”

“Yes.”

“This is Bladon Security System. There’s been a breach at your house. Police are on their way.”

Her stomach punched inward. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure, ma’am. The alarm went off, so we’ve called the police. They’ll be able to tell you more.”

“Thank you.” Lara disconnected and fumbled to clip her phone to her waist belt.

Trevor touched her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“My house alarm went off. Someone might have broken in.” Her pulse soared.

He shot out of his chair and pulled her to her feet. “When?”

“Just now.”

“On a Sunday morning? That takes balls.”

Lara barely remembered the drive from their Tampa hotel to her house. Two squad cars sat in front. Trevor jerked his truck to a stop and jumped out. Lara followed him up the path to the front door.

He made a beeline toward one of the sheriff’s men and clasped the young guy’s shoulder. “What’s disturbed?”

She slipped next to Trevor and checked the front windows. Nothing looked touched.

“We don’t know yet. We haven’t been inside, but someone did a number on the back window.” The officer turned to her. His nametag read, Mortimer. “You live here, ma’am?”

“Yes.” Her stomach churned. Someone actually broke a window? Thank God she wasn’t home.

“Could you give us a key to check inside?” For some reason his soft accent calmed her.

“Sure.” She dug in her purse and handed it to him, and then turned to Trevor. “You don’t think he’s still here do you?”

“Probably not. Once the alarm sounded, he would have taken off, but we have to check anyway.”

She stepped over to the wicker porch chair and sat down.

Less than five minutes later, the front door opened, and the same young officer waved to them. She stood.

Hand gloved, Mortimer held out a scrap of a yellow material for Trevor to examine. “We found this caught in the bedroom window. It looks like the glass tore a piece of the shirt.” He turned to Lara. “Do you recognize this?”

She examined the evidence. “It’s not mine. Is there any blood on the scrap?”

“Not that we can tell, but the piece isn’t very big.”

“I can’t believe the intruder didn’t notice a four-inch square piece of fabric missing from what he was wearing.”

“Maybe the alarm scared him off and he was in a hurry,” Mortimer said.

“Could be.” She glanced up at Trevor. “It’s yellow, so I wonder if it belongs to Bernie.”

From the way Trevor had described the bustle of the office on an average day, the sheriff’s department seemed particularly empty for a Monday morning. Lara’s previous visits had been at night.

Trevor turned toward the desk next to his. Caleb Crumpton had been assigned to work the B&E at her place. “You find anything out about the burglary at the Romano place yesterday morning?”

Caleb cut a look at Lara, and then back at Trevor. “I sent Chris Mortimer over to Bernie Laxman’s house right after the break-in, but no one was home. Mortimer went again this morning to see what he could learn. I’m waiting to hear back.”

An intruder in her house for a second time gnawed at her insides. Knowing Trevor, he’d tell her she’d never be able to move home. This time, she might agree.

“Speak of the devil.” Caleb nodded to the young officer with the accent. “What’d you learn?”

Mortimer pulled out a pad and nodded to her. “Ms. Romano.” His cheeks colored and he faced Trevor and Officer Crumpton. “Laxman wasn’t home this time either, but his dad was. He said his son had gone camping at the Ocala State Park for the week.”

She reached over and touched Trevor’s hand. “Phil told me the same thing, but Bernie should have been back yesterday.” She checked her watch and turned back to Officer Mortimer. “Did you check HOPEFAL, where he works?”

“No, ma’am, but I’ll get right on it.”

Once Officer Mortimer retreated, Caleb spun his chair toward her. “You said a few pieces of jewelry were taken. Do you have a photo of the stolen pieces?”

“No. I only have shots of those I’ve insured. There were only three items taken. One of the necklaces I’d purchased years ago during a trip abroad wasn’t worth much. The other two were the set I just received.” From the stalker.

“Nothing else? No rings taken, no electronic equipment removed?”

“Uh, uh.”

Trevor shot his gaze to her, then Caleb. “It’s possible the same person who stole the set of Native American jewelry gave it to her in the first place.”

“Are you saying the thief was an Indian giver?” He patted his belly.

“It’s possible.”

“I’ll have a little talk with Mr. Laxman, myself,” Crumpton said. “He might be willing to let me check Bernie’s room. Hell, the guy might have even have stashed the jewelry at his house, never expecting us to finger him so quickly.”

“Good luck,” she said.

Trevor pulled a phone book off his desk. “I’ll call around to some pawn shops to see if any jewelry matching the description has shown up.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get him. Don’t worry.”

Lara stilled at the loud knock on the hotel room door.

“I’ll get it.” Trevor pulled back the room drapes and his shoulders relaxed. “It’s Ethan.”

His brother entered, and the fresh outside air blew in. The sparkle in his eyes implied he’d found something.

“We hit pay dirt,” Ethan said, as he plopped down in the chair next to the table.

Trevor slid over to the two-person table, and she moved to the edge of the bed. “Tell us,” Trevor said.

“Mr. Laxman let Crumpton have free reign of his home. Caleb wanted to tell you himself, but I wouldn’t divulge your location.”

“I appreciate that,” Trevor said. “I take it his son wasn’t there?”

“Right. Caleb found a yellow T-shirt with a chunk taken out of it.”

Trevor whistled. “His dad let Caleb take it without a warrant?”

“He swears there’s some mistake and wants us to clear it up.”

Lara forced her breathing to slow. “Will you arrest Bernie?”

Ethan’s lips thinned. “When we find him. Phil said Bernie called early this morning and asked for a few more days off, saying he was enjoying his vacation too much. Phil knew what was up and didn’t want to tip the guy off, but we’ll ask the cops up there to check out the area.”

“Did the officer find my jewelry at his house?”

“Not yet.” Ethan’s cell rang. “Kinsey.” Any joy he had in his eyes dimmed. “You wanna meet me at the scene? ... Give me, say, twenty minutes. Later.” He hung up and pocketed his phone.

“What is it?” Trevor asked.

“There might have been a witness to the Julie Bowman murder.”

There had been so many women killed, she had a hard time keeping track of them. “Was she the one in the woods? The one who was scalped?”

“Yes. Apparently, one of the neighbors likes to walk her dog every night and saw a suspicious man around there for a few days.”

“She didn’t call the cops right away?” Trevor asked.

“The man had a different disguise each time she saw him, so at first she didn’t think anything of it. By the third day, she suspected it was the same man, because of his peculiar gait. Then she called us.” Ethan stood. “I’m meeting Wolfe there. I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

Bernie recently had fallen off a ladder and now limped. Dear God.

The ringing phone woke Trevor up. At least when he answered the call, his conversation wouldn’t bother Lara since she never wore her implant to bed. It was probably Ethan reporting back on the Julie Bowman witness, though why call this late? He’d been in a deep sleep for once. “Kinsey.”

“It’s Willard.”

Trevor focused on the glowing numbers on the clock and bolted upright. Four a.m. His captain never called unless it was an emergency. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you, but I believe Ethan’s been shot.”

Trevor’s body nearly stopped functioning. “Shot?” The word stuck in his throat.

Light, he needed light. The darkness made the reality worse. He clicked on the tableside lamp.

“Yes, but here’s the strange part. He’s missing.”

“What do you mean, missing?” His brain stopped working. “What happened?” He tossed the covers off the bed.

“I’d have told you in person, but only Ethan knew where you’re staying. Can you meet me at Tampa General?”

“I thought you said Ethan was missing.” The captain wasn’t making any sense.

“Wolfe’s in the hospital. He was with Ethan at the time. I’m hoping when Derek comes to, we’ll know more.”

“Was he shot too?” Trevor flew off the bed and pulled on his pants with one hand, hopping on one foot to push his foot through the jeans. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know much. The hospital called the department when they found Derek’s badge. They said he called 9-1-1 about a shooting. When they arrived, they found Derek unconscious. That’s all I know.”

“Then how could he tell you Ethan was shot?” Trevor blocked out the image of his brother, his mentor, injured, or possibly dead.

“In Derek’s call to the dispatcher, he said an officer had been shot. Given Ethan and he were together, I thought Ethan might be that officer.”

Trevor shoved his feet into his shoes, praying there had been some mistake. “We’ll be right there.”

He disconnected and shot to Lara’s side, his pulse racing faster than a speeding bullet. She still hadn’t budged despite the lights blaring. He shook her shoulder. She rolled toward him and cracked open an eye. He grabbed her implant from the side table and dangled it above her.

She bolted upright. “What’s wrong?”

“Ethan’s been shot. We have to go to the hospital.” No need to mention he was missing or that there might be a case of mistaken identity.

The drive to the hospital was close to a blur, but at least they made it there fast. Wolfe looked like a bull who’d lost a fight. Needles stuck from his arms, and his eyes were unfocused and glassy. According to the nurse, he’d been unconscious until a little while ago. From what he knew of Derek Wolfe, the gentle giant, all six-foot seven of him, wouldn’t have gone down without a battle.

A nurse’s aid came in, made some adjustments to the machine that kept beeping and turned to them. “Mr. Wolfe needs his rest, so please don’t stay long.” She waddled around the bed and left, depositing her gloves in the trash.

Trevor pulled up two chairs. “Derek, what happened?”

He blinked a few times. “I’m not sure.” His speech came out slurred.

“The captain said Ethan was shot.”

Wolfe swiped a hand over his forehead, as if to clear his mind. “I got a call from a woman—something about the scalping, so I called Ethan.” He motioned for some water, and Trevor handed him a cup.

“That much I know. I was with Ethan when you called.”

Wolfe gulped down the contents, bypassing the straw. “I went to investigate. The witness said a man was parked across the street from her house for a few nights before Julie Bowman’s murder.” Derek’s moistened lips seemed to work better, his words more clear.

Trevor leaned closer. “Did she get a description of the guy?”

“No, he wore a different disguise each night. That’s what made her curious.”

Trevor told Derek what Ethan had told him about the neighbor’s hesitation to call. “What can you tell me about Ethan?” He wiped his damp palms on his jeans.

Derek glanced between them. “I’m getting to that.”

He’d play along if it meant getting answers. “Did she tell you anything we didn’t know?” He wanted to shake the information out of Derek, but was thankful at least, the man was conscious.

“She said he drove an ordinary car—a four door.”

“What kind?”

“She didn’t know.”

“How is this connected to Ethan getting shot? Was it the same man who assaulted you too?”

Captain Willard burst into the room, and Trevor looked over his shoulder. “Wolfe is telling us what happened.”

“I’m glad to see you’re back with the living.”

“Me too.”

He didn’t have time for niceties. Ethan was out there. Hurt. Needing help. “Go on.”

Derek nodded. “We found evidence of tire tracks under this large oak tree that Ethan thought might belong to the person of interest, along with a plastic cap next to where the driver’s side door would be.”

“Like the type to go over a syringe?”

“Yes.” He ran two fingers along the edge of his lips. “We called the station to see if they could get someone out there to process the tire impression.”

“The tracks could have belonged to one of our cruisers. There were a bunch of investigators there the night Julie Bowman died,” Willard added.

Derek squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. “This was on the other end of the park from where we found the body. Our men didn’t park over there.” After wetting his lips, he opened his eyes. “I was checking the area where the person had parked, while Ethan decided to go back into the woods in case we’d missed anything. Next thing I know, I hear a shot in the direction of the woods.” Derek pressed his palms to the side of his head, his lips in a grimace.

“Did you see the shooter?” Willard asked.

“No.”

“Did any of the neighbors come out to investigate?” Trevor asked.

Derek dragged his hands down his face and seemed to relax. “In that neighborhood? No. They know better.”

Trevor’s hands were still sweating. “Then what?”

“This is where it becomes unclear. I went down this path toward the area where we found the victim, and I see Ethan on the ground. He was shot in his side.”

“Was he conscious?” Trevor said.

“Yes, and in pain. I called 9-1-1 and told them about the officer down. I stayed by Ethan’s side the whole time.”

Trevor’s gut churned. Ethan was hurt, so where the hell was he? “Did you ask Ethan if he saw who shot him?”

“He said he just felt the bullet but didn’t see anyone. From where he was hit, we figured the shooter was deep in the woods and not by the road.”

How could this mystery man remain so invisible? “Did you see the shooter run away? Or hear leaves crunching or branches cracking as he tried to escape?” The forest was rather dense. No one could travel without making any noise.

“No. That’s the part I can’t piece together. I looked around but saw nothing. Next thing I know, my vision blurs and I wake up here.” Ethan’s partner’s breaths came out fast, and his skin looked clammy. He leaned back in the bed. “Was I shot too?”

“According to the nurse, no.” Trevor closed his eyes for a moment trying to recreate the scene. “Could the attacker have been in a tree?” It was the only plausible explanation, but at the moment his mind was barely functioning.

“That would make sense, but how would he have known we’d be there?”

The intercom blared from the hallway, and Trevor waited a moment before answering. “Beats me. Maybe he was the one who called you, wanting to lure you there.”

“No, the neighbor definitely made the call.” He leaned his head back on the pillow.

A noisy gurney wobbled down the hallway. Trevor was tempted to close the door for some quiet, but the room was already too warm. “He could have made her call. Hell, he could have held a gun to her head or something.”xxx

“It’s possible. She was overly nervous when we spoke with her, but I think she would have mentioned if she’d called under duress.”

Lara bounced her gaze from one to the other. “It’s him. The bastard used ketovencuronium, I bet. That’s how he sedates his victims, and gets away with murder.”

Wolfe rubbed his forehead. “What the hell’s ketoven-whatever?”

“It’s a paralytic and a tranquilizer. You’re Native American, aren’t you?”

“Half Seminole. The other half is a European mix.”

Trevor slapped the chair arm. “I bet you’re right, only the bastard miscalculated. He couldn’t move Derek.”

“He’s getting sloppy,” she said. She placed a hand on Derek’s bed. “Did they take a blood sample when you came in?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’ll check.”

The moment Lara disappeared, Trevor returned his focus to Ethan’s partner. “I know I keep asking, but where’s Ethan?”

“I don’t know. Ask the paramedics who took me. The nurse told me I was the only one taken back to the hospital.”

Willard sat down on Lara’s vacated seat. “Could Ethan have gone for help?”

“He heard me call for an ambulance. Why leave? From the amount of blood I saw, he couldn’t have crawled very far.”

His brother had fair skin and light brown hair. No way he’d be mistaken for a Seminole. Fuck. Trevor needed answers and fast.

Lara rushed back in. “They did take blood. I asked them to test for the tranquilizer.”

“Good.”

“Dad, sit. The department is doing everything they can to find Ethan.”

Trevor’s mother stirred the omelets while the second pot of coffee perked.

Dad clenched his hand around his empty coffee cup. “Why aren’t you helping?”

Trevor gritted his teeth and shot a glance at Lara whose body was stiff and whose lips were pressed tightly together. “You know why. They won’t let a relative on the case.” Christ, the guilt was ripping him apart as it was. He didn’t need his family to harp on him. God knows he wanted to do something.

“You could search unofficially.”

“Herb, please.” His mother always did stick up for her children.

“Where’s Harry?” His dad put down the cup and pulled out a cigarette. He lit up, a sure sign Ethan’s disappearance was wearing him down.

Trevor downed the coffee that had gone cold already. “He said he’d be here. He needed to check something out before he stopped over.”

His mom waved a hand in front of his dad to dissipate the cigarette stench. “Herb, you know the doctor said not to smoke.”

“Fuck the doctors. My son is missing, and I’m sitting here on my ass doing nothing.”

His mom’s cheeks sagged. As she placed the platter of eggs and juice on the table, the carton toppled over. “Oh, my. I’m so clumsy.”

Lara jumped up. “Let me help.”

His mom ran her hands down her apron. “I guess you could get the coffee cream from the fridge and pour the coffee while I clean up this mess.”

His mom never let anyone help. Living with a cop for forty years gave her a better insight into what could happen to someone in the department. She walked over to the counter. Given her stiff movements and the way she tore off sheet after sheet of paper towels, she was barely keeping the tears at bay.

Shouts sounded outside, and all but Lara stiffened. Trevor pushed back in his chair and ran out the back door.

Two men were wrestling on the ground. “Harry?”

“I got him,” his brother shouted.

Trevor rushed over to help him secure the intruder. Face down, Trevor couldn’t tell who it might be. “Who is he?”

Soft footsteps sounded behind him. Lara. “It can’t be.”