Sean hung up his phone and turned to Lynch. “That was my profiler. She’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

The detective nodded. “Great. Maybe she can make some sense out of this fucking mess.” He swept his hand toward the white boards containing all the information they had on the case, with a frustrated sigh.

Just after Brian and Rafe walked into the conference room a few minutes later, one of the landline phones on the table rang. It was the front desk deputy reporting that Dr. Suki Ralston had arrived. Sean headed out to greet her and escort her back to the task force room. He found her in the lobby looking as gorgeous as ever and he almost rolled his eyes as he thought of what his brother’s response to this woman was going to be. Brian could be a dog when it came to women—love ’em and leave ’em—quickly. While Sean wouldn’t mind having a long-term relationship with the right woman, Brian ran from commitment faster than anyone could say ready, set, go.

Suki was wearing a dark blue suit with a skirt that stopped just above the knee. A crisp, white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and three-inch, navy heels completed the outfit. Since the doctor spent most of her time in an office formulating profiles and not actually out chasing down criminals, she could get away with the high heels. But since she was also an agent he knew beneath her jacket was a holstered weapon. She wore a gold chain around her neck, a simple wristwatch and a minimal amount of makeup. Suki didn’t need to accessorize much to turn heads. Her jet black hair was pulled up into a professional bun, but Sean knew when she let it down it would fall to the middle of her back.

As he opened the door to let her into the back hallway, her face lit up when she saw him. “Hey, stud muffin, how’s that rhythm thing going?”

Sean grimaced. “Um, do me a favor, will you? My brother’s working with us, so if you could cool it with the ‘stud muffin’ remarks, I’d really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I know what it’s like to be teased by older brothers.” As they walked side-by-side down the hallway, she became serious and professional—as he’d expected. “Has anything changed in the case since yesterday?”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, we found three more victims in Philadelphia from last summer. The lead agent is sending the file down tonight—said she knows you . . . Karen Winslow?”

“Oh, yes, I know her well. She can be a little gruff at times, but she’s an excellent agent.”

“Well, anyway, now we have six vics, and we’re still spinning our wheels. I’m hoping between you and Winslow, you can at least point us in some sort of direction.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Sean opened the door to the conference room and let Suki walk in first, carrying her well-worn, brown, leather briefcase. The four detectives, who only seconds ago were in the middle of a conversation, suddenly went quiet as the petite woman entered the room and strode confidently to the head of the table. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

There was a split second of hesitation before the men stood, almost as one, and returned her greeting. Sean made the introductions, indicating each person with a flash of his hand. “Suki, this is our lead detective, Brad Lynch, Rafe Montoya of the SBI, and my brother, Brian, also with the state police. Guys, this Dr. Suki Ralston, FBI agent, and profiler extraordinaire.”

Suki shook hands with each man, seemingly oblivious to their teenage reactions to her natural beauty. When not working, she was a fun woman to be around, but when duty called, she was nothing but professional. She went to pull out a chair, but a nearly drooling Rafe, who’d been standing nearby, beat her to it, gesturing for her to sit. She smiled at him as she sat down. “Okay, gentlemen, please have a seat and tell me about this case from the start. Sean gave me the basics yesterday, but I’d like to hear everything from the top, including any theories you might have.”

She opened her briefcase and pulled out a pen and a fresh, yellow, legal-sized pad. Over the next hour, as each member of the task force spoke, Suki took copious amounts of notes, filling at least fifteen pages. She had taken a shorthand class as an easy elective in high school and could write almost as fast as the men could talk—a talent which helped tremendously in her career.

When they finally finished filling her in, Sean added, “I also made you a copy of everything we have. I figured you’d be up late going through it all.”

He handed her a heavy folder filled with a thick stack of papers, which she dropped next to her pad of notes. She lifted the top cover and scanned the first few pages. “Is there anything in here about the Philadelphia cases?”

“Winslow e-mailed me some stuff. It’s in there. She’s overnighting the rest, including an initial profile.”

Suki glanced at Sean with raised eyebrows. “Who did the profile?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know, didn’t ask. She wanted you at the time, but you weren’t available.”

Going back to the file, she asked, “What about the autopsy reports and photos of your three vics, are they in here, too?”

Rafe handed her three more manila files. “Here they are, Dr. Ralston. You should have the reports included with everything Sean gave you, but here’s the autopsy photos along with the crime scene photos.” He grimaced and added apologetically, “I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of nasty stuff working for the feds, but these are more than just a little disturbing. You can hold onto them if you need to—the official ones are on a CD.”

“Thank you, Detective, but as you know, ‘disturbing’ comes with the job.”

“I hear you. And feel free to call me Rafe. We’re pretty informal around here.”

Suki smiled warmly. “Thanks, Rafe. And everyone please call me Suki. My dad’s an internist and every time I hear Dr. Ralston, I look around to see where he is.” Her gaze met each one of the members of the task force in succession. “Thank you all for the update. I’m going to spend the next few hours going through the files and should have a preliminary profile for you in the morning or noon the latest.”

Brian and Rafe stood and said their goodbyes for the day, although the latter seemed reluctant to do so. The guy hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of Suki. But they needed to check in with their own supervisor. Even though they were on the serial killer task force, they still had other cases they were working on. Until they had some more information or a lead or two, there wasn’t much else they could do at the sheriff’s department. Brian gave his brother fist pump and a wink before walking out the door.

After they left, Suki began perusing the files and Lynch started entering updates to existing reports on the department computer. Sean opened his laptop and signed on. Once he was in the right database he expanded the parameters for a new search in the FBI system and hit send. While the program was doing its thing, he strolled down the hall to the break room and put money in the soda machine. He grabbed two Cokes for Brad and himself, and for Suki, a diet Coke, her usual. Sean often joked with his uncle that caffeine and sugar were the “breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions” for almost anyone in law enforcement; they kept you going while doing the boring grunt work.

Lynch had told them earlier that it was his wife’s birthday and he wanted to leave on time to take her out for dinner. Around five thirty he finished up, said goodbye, and headed out the door, leaving the two FBI agents alone in the room. Suki stood and gracefully stretched her neck and back. “Speaking of dinner, you owe me, and I’m getting hungry.”

He grinned at her. “When are you not hungry? For a tiny woman, you eat like a linebacker.”

Laughing, she gathered up her files to place in her briefcase. “I wouldn’t say a linebacker . . . maybe a wide receiver.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I was blessed with a good metabolism. Now, where’s this Sassy’s Restaurant you’ve told me all about?”

* * *

Grace flipped through the local newspaper while standing behind the counter of Petals, her aunt’s boutique. The women’s clothing shop was a few doors down from Dan Malone’s hardware store, and diagonally across from Pro-Care. Bonnie was counting the day’s receipts and chatting at the same time. “The warm weather this past week has had a nice effect on my sales. People are taking walks through town and getting ready for spring.”

“Well, since March 20th was last week it’s already spring,” Grace answered. “Down here you start getting the warmer weather way before New York does. Over a week of temperatures in the low seventies in March is almost unheard of up there. One or two days maybe, but not nine in a row. This would be considered a heat wave.”

“Are you complaining?”

She chuckled. “Absolutely not. This is my favorite type of weather, not too hot, not too cold.”

“Mine too,” said Bonnie. “And not just because it’s good for business, but of course that’s a plus. I had a busy morning and then a pleasant group of women came in after I got back from lunch. They drove down from Newport News for the day just to eat, shop, and walk around. And boy, did they shop!”

“Shopping is one thing.” Grace raised an eyebrow. “The question is, did they buy?”

“Between the four of them, they bought over twelve hundred dollars’ worth of clothing and accessories. I told them I was expecting a large shipment of summer clothes within the next two weeks and they’re planning on coming back down to see what comes in.”

After she finished totaling up the sales, Bonnie put the credit card receipts into an envelope and filed them away so she could compare them to the statements at the end of the month. Then she wrote out a bank slip and placed it with two days’ worth of money and checks into a deposit bag that she concealed in a small shopping bag. She planned on dropping it into the night deposit bin at her bank a block and a half away. Usually Dan, taking along his concealed .38 caliber pistol and Jinx, walked with her every time she went to the bank, to make his own deposits and to ensure Bonnie wasn’t robbed. Even though crime in Whisper was low, one never knew when some creep would try to take advantage of someone in the sleepy little town, he would say. Bonnie always thought her dear friend was overly cautious, but let him play bodyguard anyway. Dan randomly chose when they would make the deposits so there was no pattern to catch a crook’s eye. Sometimes they went in the morning before opening their shops, and other times they went during lunch or after closing. Tonight though, Grace and she would make the drop on their way to dinner.

It was still a few minutes before the six o’clock closing time, so the two women straightened the clothes on the racks. Bonnie asked, “Did you hire that therapist you told me about at lunch? What’s his name again?”

“Tom Koppel. And yes, I did. He’s giving the hospital his two weeks’ notice on Monday.”

“Wonderful. So you’re almost ready to open up then?”

Grace smiled. “Yup, as soon as all the equipment arrives. The sign looks great; they’re installing it on Tuesday. Oh, and I bought the TV earlier to put up for the patients to watch if they want. It was so nice of Dan to offer to mount it on the wall and run the wiring, along with hooking up the washer/dryer for me. That’ll save me some money. I think I’ll treat him to dinner out one night to pay him back.”

“Well, not tonight. That stubborn old coot’s been fighting a cold for the past few days and now he’s paying the price. Thank goodness Jimmy Merrick was scheduled to work after school today so Dan could go up to the apartment and get some rest. Honestly, that man pushes himself to the brink sometimes.”

Grace smiled and again wondered why Dan and Bonnie weren’t a couple. It was obvious they cared about each other and, most of the time, acted like old married folks. “We’ll bring him some soup from Sassy’s after dinner.”

“Sounds perfect.” Bonnie glanced at her watch. “Well, let’s lock up. I’m getting hungry myself.”

The two women closed the shop and walked up the street to the bank. While Bonnie was making the deposit, Grace glanced across the street just in time to see Sean walking into Sassy’s with his hand at the lower back of any extremely attractive woman. She was stunned and felt her stomach fall in disappointment. She suddenly realized that in the conversations she’d had with Sean over the past week, she never once asked him if he was seeing anyone special. Apparently he was, she thought sourly as the couple disappeared into the restaurant.

Bonnie completed her transaction and turned to see her niece frowning. “Is something wrong, Grace?” she asked, while scanning the area in front of Sassy’s. Nothing seemed out of place to the older woman.

“Um, no. Nothing’s wrong,” Grace lied and put on a fake smile. “I was just thinking that I’m really not in the mood for Sassy’s tonight. Why don’t we drive over to the Cranberry Inn for dinner?”

“That’s fine with me. I haven’t eaten there in a while.”

* * *

“. . .this is Jessica Daly for the Channel Four News.” Wallace rewound the reporter’s newscast from outside the Dare County Sheriff’s Department and let it play for the fifth time. He could tell the reporter was full of herself and wondered if she’d be so cocky if he cut her down to size. Literally.

Here comes the best part. The FBI agent. Mister High and Mighty—Not. His deadly work had the local Keystone Kops running around in circles so they’d called in the feds. It didn’t matter though—they were a bunch of inept jackasses and would never catch him. Good ol’ George Wallace had a steady respectable job, helped out his neighbors, and was friendly to everyone he met—well, almost everyone. His coworkers and boss got along with him just fine, and he’d never had any complaints lodged against him at work. He had never been arrested—even his driver’s license was clean, having never gotten a ticket in his life. Shit, he even volunteered every other Saturday afternoon at the local food pantry and drove his elderly neighbor to the library once a month. It was all part of the admirable personae he presented to the rest of the world. People who knew him had no idea what he was capable of, and he was going to keep it that way. Of course, it was a tad disappointing no one knew mild-mannered George Wallace was responsible for instilling fear into the hearts of women living in the area but, ironically, silence ensured his fame.

Striding into his kitchen, he took his dinner out of the microwave and placed it on a tray along with a knife, fork, and napkin. He carried his meal into the living room, sat back down on the sofa, and hit the rewind button on the remote again.