It was disturbing to be back at the hotel where they’d spent a sleepless night after searching for Lawler. They’d returned much too late to consider switching to a less-expensive place. That would have to wait until morning. But Alexa wouldn’t be sorry to leave this reminder of their failure to save the UNSUB’s latest victim.

Jeanette Lawler’s next of kin had been notified. The ripples that radiated from death were far-reaching, touching family, friends, colleagues, employers. And in Lawler’s case, an entire viewing audience. That wouldn’t occur to the UNSUB. Lack of empathy was ingrained in his psyche. For the offender, Lawler’s life began and ended with him.

After agreeing on their meet time the next morning, Ethan, Alexa and Nyle went their separate ways. She figured the men had to be as exhausted as she was. She collected the new laptop and tablet that she’d had delivered there, then returned to her room to shower. After ordering room service, she set up the devices and plugged in the flash drive to transfer her files to the computer before starting on her press conference remarks for tomorrow. She worked for a couple of hours, revising and fine-tuning her statement until she set the task aside. No doubt there would be further changes before she and Ethan went on air. And if he had his way, her portion would be scrapped altogether.

Ethan. His feelings about Gagnon’s orders had been all too easy to read. As a consultant, Alexa had butted heads with members of an investigation before. It wasn’t unusual for the brass and the agents on the ground to have far different ideas about her role in the case. She almost always sided with the investigators; they were the ones closest to the case. In those instances, she went to bat for them with the administration, as she had when Ethan had warned against releasing the profile. But in this case, she agreed with Gagnon. If the UNSUB continued to communicate with her, it would be for his own reasons. And she’d engage, to further the investigation.

Which meant she’d better get used to Ethan’s disapproval.

A ringing sound emanated from the new laptop. It took a moment for Alexa to realize it was the alert for an incoming FaceTime call. Recognizing Adam Raiker’s number, she answered promptly.

“Thank you for getting back to me. I was surprised to hear that you were in the field.”

Raiker surveyed her with his familiar laser-blue gaze. “Jaid and I agreed that it was time for us to start resuming our normal routines. Or, what used to be normal. We’ve got a child predator case in Lexington. Another victim recently snatched. Clock is ticking.”

Alexa winced slightly. She wondered if the case brought back memories of her employer’s last case for the Bureau when he’d been captured by the child killer he’d been tracking, and tortured before he’d overpowered his captor and killed him.

And then she realized she already knew that answer. Adam Raiker saw the reminders of that case every time he looked in the mirror. The black eyepatch over the eye he’d lost, the scar that traced across his neck, the one running down one cheek, the others on the backs of his hands. He’d never shown a hint of self-consciousness about them. Survival was the ultimate trade-off.

“What’s going on with your case?”

Succinctly, Alexa updated him. Raiker had been intrigued from the first when contacted by the RCMP Commissioner. An UNSUB that had been on the loose for over a decade was a unique challenge.

His brows drew together. “So he’s communicated with you three times.”

“If you count his ‘gift’ today.”

“Of course that counts. Under other circumstances, I’d say he’s thumbing his nose at the investigators. But that would be out of character for him. And I don’t get that impression from his first communication with you.”

“Nor do I.”

“He’s going to reach out again. Sooner, rather than later. This isn’t about an offender taunting the police—he wants to connect with you, Alexa, on a personal level. Your shared interest might have been enough to whet his fixation. Your looks likely didn’t hurt.” Typical Raiker, his words held no flattery, but were stated as blunt fact. “This is a unique chance to discover more about him. But don’t underestimate the danger this puts you in. You’ve learned that he first reaches out to his victims by blackmailing them for some perceived sin. He won’t stray far from his long practice.”

“He’s going to dig into my background. Look for something he can use.” She’d known it already. But having her certainty put into words had a greasy layer of nausea pooling in her stomach.

Raiker nodded. “You may represent a deviation in his signature, but he’s going to abide by that ritual as much as possible. He’ll be compelled to.”

“He’s not going to find any blackmail material in my past.” Heartrending loss, perhaps. But not major crimes.

Her employer was shaking his head. “You’re applying logic to a person who isn’t rational. Whatever he discovers, his perception won’t be grounded in reality. You’re a square peg, yes. But he’s going to try to work you into the familiar round hole he has for his victims. Continue developing that possible religious link. If it proves tenable, it’s a tool you can use to engage or manipulate him.”

They chatted a few more minutes about her piece for the press conference tomorrow, with Raiker suggesting some tweaks before they disconnected.

It was barely nine, but none of them had slept much the night before. She got up, readied for bed and then switched off the light. Slipped between the covers.

Exhaustion had unconsciousness approaching quickly. When the alert sounded on her phone, Alexa was already dozing. It was a struggle at first to break free of the sticky fingers of sleep. So tempting to ignore the intrusion. In the next moment, her brain clicked on and she sat straight up, grabbing the cell from the bedside table.

After Anis Tera had contacted her yesterday, she’d set that email addy to send an alert for each new email. This could be a professional contact. She already knew it wouldn’t be. When she pressed the inbox button, the same set of letters and numbers appeared from the message sender. The subject header read, TRURO.

She called Ethan’s cell. He answered on the first ring. “There’s another message.” She said nothing more. She knew she didn’t have to. Alexa quickly pulled on yoga pants and a cami and then opened the door. Ethan walked in, his expression grim. He was still fully dressed, minus the suit jacket and tie.

“What’s it say?”

“I haven’t opened it yet.” She went to the desk and used the tablet to bring up the email addy the offender was using. “When I ordered a new laptop, I got a tablet, too. I don’t want any chance for him to access my files.” She didn’t think that was possible by just opening the email yesterday. But that didn’t mean future communications would be as secure.

“Good idea.” He came over to watch over her shoulder. “I think you’d have to click on a link for that to happen, but no use taking risks.”

She clicked on the email. It took long seconds for the message to open. This time there was no text. Only a photo. Alexa hissed in a breath, the muscles in her belly twisting.

“Son of a bitch.” Ethan’s low tone was lethal.

The photo was of her, taken this afternoon. She was standing, half-turned. The image was a little blurry, as if it had caught her in mid-motion. Alexa knew the exact moment it’d been taken. After she’d risen from her mother’s grave and readied to leave.

“Where was this snapped?”

“This afternoon at Heavenly Angels Cemetery. My mother’s buried there.”

“He followed you?”

The sense of violation was overwhelming. The one moment she’d had with her mother in twenty years had been tainted by the presence of a madman. “We know he’s familiar with our vehicle, since he had the boy repeat the license number of the car he was to make the delivery to.” She tried to recall any vehicle in the vicinity of the cemetery. Failed. “Maybe we’re wrong about the van.” Because there was no way they would have missed that.

“The forensic ident guys casted the tread prints and measured them. The vehicle that left them has a longer wheelbase than a car or a pickup.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Well, he didn’t follow us to the east side of town on foot. He has a second vehicle.”

Ethan gave a slow nod. “That would explain a lot. Why chance having the van in the same vicinity as the body he carried it in when there are police swarming the area?”

“He feels invisible,” she murmured, her mind racing. “Because he’s been overlooked all his life. And he’s been operating with impunity for years. Maybe long enough to convince himself that he can’t be caught.” Perhaps there was a religious aspect to that, too, if the UNSUB thought his was holy work, he may believe it’d been blessed by the God he claimed to be serving.

“I won’t take that as a dig,” Ethan said wryly and her gaze flew to his again. Was aware for the first time of how close their faces were.

“I’m trying to think like he does.”

“Then think about what this is.” He tapped the screen, before reaching for his phone to take close-up pictures of the image. Alexa stared at the spot he’d indicated. She’d barely noticed it before, so caught up with the fact that the offender had been close enough to witness her vulnerability in the cemetery.

An image had been photoshopped onto her right shoulder. Insects, of course. She slipped out of her chair and went to her briefcase. Hurried back with a magnifying glass. Examining the enlarged image, she said wonderingly, “Termites.”

Ethan looked up from his phone. “What would the significance of that be? Do you think he’s identifying the second insect sample in Lawler’s mouth?”

Alexa shook her head, trying to shove aside her burgeoning trepidation. “This will be more personal.” She opened her laptop and brought up the database to double check for accuracy. She wasn’t mistaken. But the symbolism still escaped her.

“The email has vanished.” Ethan straightened. “I’m going to go print this.” Alexa barely noticed him leave. She was already immersed in looking up facts about the insects, rapidly reading article after article. When he returned, she looked up.

“The image is of a male and female sample of Kalotermes flavicollis. They’re a species of Dampwood termites.”

Ethan crossed to drop one of the images he’d printed off onto the desk. “So what’s he telling you? That you and he can destroy buildings and construct your own world together?”

“I’m not exactly certain,” she admitted. “The fact that he included both male and female is probably significant. They may represent him and me.” And she’d never admit how squeamish that made her feel. “Termites are social creatures with a definite caste system. There’s the king and queen, the workers, alates and soldiers. The king and queen mate for life and are responsible for reproduction. They populate the entire colony.” She frowned. “They’re also the only ones in the colony that develop eyes, although they don’t have a strong visual sense.” She wasn’t sure if that fact was important. It was critical not to read too much into the possible symbolism.

“Christ, Alexa.” Ethan stared at her with something between horror and distaste in his expression. “You’ve got to see how frightening his focus on you is. And, from a non-bug enthusiast, damn creepy.”

That drew a smile from her. “Well, it’s certainly unique.”

“Unique, hell.” The concern in his voice was impossible to miss. “I think it’s further proof that encouraging this fixation on you is a mistake. To use it the way Gagnon urged you to do, to draw the guy out.”

They’d come full circle. “I’m familiar with your feelings on the topic.”

The fact that she said nothing else had him clenching his jaw. But he visibly reined in his temper. Tucked it away. A quality he’d perfected in adulthood. “It’s a moot point,” he managed to say evenly. “The brass has spoken.” He looked down at the images he held. “How long were you at the cemetery?”

“Not long. Twenty minutes maybe.”

“Were you alone there?”

She sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to recall. “I really don’t remember,” she said finally. “I didn’t notice any people or cars around when I was trying to find the grave, or when I was walking out again. And I would have, I’m sure of it.” She thought for another minute. “But it’s an old cemetery. Lots of vaults and oversized monuments.” And the possibility that the offender had lurked behind one of them, spying on her, had a new chill breaking out of her skin. “Roads flank the cemetery, with gates on either end. My guess is he followed us, passing by when Nyle let me off and then he returned on the other road. If he parked the vehicle and took the picture from over there, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

But she resented the intrusion. Fiercely.

Ethan looked away. The images were still clutched in one hand. He shoved his free hand in his pocket. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

Surprisingly, her eyes filled. It’d been a long time since she’d shed tears over her mother. She’d lost her a little at a time from the moment Thomas Reisman entered their lives. But it’d been a long day, one steeped in emotion. “Thank you.”

“How’d she die?”

“Breast cancer, from what I heard. Untreated, of course.” She heard the bitterness in her tone. Was helpless to control it. “I’m sure her husband convinced her the power of prayer was greater than any medical treatment could be.”

“When did it happen?” He sat gingerly down on the bed next to her.

“Fifteen months after we left Truro.” The last time Alexa had seen her mother there had been censure in her eyes. Judgment on her lips. Alexa didn’t think she’d realized until that moment just how thoroughly Reisman had transformed the woman.

“Did you ever…reconnect?”

He’d once known how badly her mother’s rejection had hurt her. Because although she’d never shared all, she’d opened up more to Ethan than anyone else. He may not have understood but he’d sympathized. And he’d hurt, once upon a time, when she hurt.

The memories were a slippery slope. One misstep and a deluge of unwanted recollections would flood forth. The emotions roiling and careening inside her were unwelcome. Alexa had thought they were dealt with. Properly identified, processed and tucked neatly away to be examined occasionally with a clinical detachment. She pressed a fist to her mouth. Tried to formulate an answer.

“I tried once. I had the neighbor’s number. Willa Satler. A bit of a busybody, but she was kind to me. I called her and she agreed to speak to my mother sometime when Reisman was out. She told my mom she had my number and that she could use her phone to call me.” After all these years, the memory still had fangs. “She declined.” She turned her face from God, now our faces are turned from her.

“She was completely under her husband’s thumb.”

“I thought so at the time,” Alexa said wearily. “But it was more than that. Like an abuse victim, which of course she was. Or someone brainwashed by a cult. He just...erased her, a tiny bit every day. Until there was really nothing of her there anymore. Just what he’d remade her into.”

“You and she both got robbed. You of a childhood. Her of a life.”

His words were no more than the truth. But Alexa had gotten out, and her escape was wrapped up in Ethan all those years ago. Rebecca Reisman had never gotten the chance.

It was easy to be reminded, sitting next to him, of the attraction he’d held for her all those years ago. Alexa could have resisted the teenage Adonis looks, the confidence and slight swagger of a boy used to female attention. But beneath it all, she’d discovered a generous heart and a capacity for caring that had been its own seduction. His sense of adventure had awakened her own. It was little wonder that, although she’d stepped cautiously, she’d fallen hard and fast.

“My dad moved from here when he retired. Went to Kingston, Ontario.”

She froze, sensing a trap. “I hope he’s well,” she said carefully.

“I figured you knew, since the two of you have been corresponding since you left.”

Her gaze snapped to meet his. “How did…”

Ethan’s expression was neutral. “I found a letter in his desk when he had heart surgery about ten years ago and we were taking care of things for him. It was clear you’d kept in touch.”

She could understand if Ethan regarded that as a betrayal. But he didn’t seem angry. More… resigned.

“I asked him about it later when he was feeling better, and he told me the whole thing. How he’d given you the money to leave when you went to him. He said ‘Son, the girl had her mind made up. I wasn’t going to let her go without making sure she’d be safe.’”

Her heart shredded all over again. “He’s a good man.”

“He is. I was pretty pissed at him for a while but I finally figured he was right.” His expression had gone bleak. “You were set on leaving.”

“You know why.” The whisper felt like it was torn from her.

“I know what you said. Hell, maybe in another twenty years, I’ll even agree with your logic.” He bounced up from the bed, as if compelled to move. “All I knew then was first there was a baby, and then there wasn’t. First I had a wife, and then I didn’t.”

Had she really ever believed they could work together on the case and not have this conversation? It was all too easy to be transported back twenty years. To feel anew the heartbreak of losing their baby girl only weeks before they should have been holding her in their arms. The months afterward, sleepwalking through the pain and loss. Before Alexa had come to the one decision that would be best for Ethan. “You were exhausted from your studies, hockey, and the part-time job. We both knew you were good enough to go pro. Your coach told you that. The only thing holding you back was me.”

“You were my wife.” His face, his tone, was just as implacable as it’d been back then.

“But I wouldn’t have been if not for the baby. We both know that,” she added gently. “Some things are absolutes. The grass is green. The sky is blue. And Ethan Manning will always, always do the right thing.” In that way, his career choice made perfect sense. “You couldn’t see beyond your sense of duty. But once I removed that obligation, I knew your future would get a lot brighter.” That’s what she’d told him at the time, and she’d been right. With her gone, he could quit the part-time job. Concentrate on the sport and his classes. And three years after she was gone he’d been a second-round draft pick. He’d had the life he’d always said he wanted.

“Replaying the same argument from back then is just as useless now.” There was a heat in his pale blue eyes. A dangerous burn. “It shouldn’t matter. Do you know how many times since you’ve come that I’ve reminded myself of that? We were kids. It wasn’t real, it wouldn’t have lasted. I told myself the same things whenever I allowed myself to think of you. And then you showed up here, and everything I’d been telling myself explodes in my face. Because there’s still something there, and you’re lying to yourself if you won’t admit it.”

Her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her chest. Ethan’s words had alarms shrilling in the recesses of her mind. They were a demand for honesty that would be much more comfortable to dodge.

“I’ve been trying like hell to deny it.” A hard smile crossed Ethan’s lips. “Damn you, Alexa Grace.” He dropped down on the bed beside her again, his face dizzyingly close. “Twenty years wasn’t long enough to get you out of my head.”

When his lips touched hers, her hand lifted of its own accord to cup his jaw. It was leaner now. Harder than it’d been the last time they’d touched. And she knew this was a mistake. It had to be. But Alexa wasn’t going to waste a second regretting it.

Her lips parted beneath his and his fingers speared into her hair as he angled his face closer to take advantage. There’d been so few indulgences in her life. She wasn’t going to deny herself this one.

She’d known the kiss of the boy but not the man. It was the hint of familiarity that drew her, the foreign demand that left her craving more. His tongue entered her mouth in a slow seductive glide. Alexa could feel his arm around her as she floated backward. It wasn’t until the mattress was at her back that she realized, much too dimly, that he’d lowered her to the bed. Her hand slid to his nape as she urged him closer, her tongue doing battle with his.

This didn’t feel like catching a nostalgic piece of her past and pulling it close. No, it was different between them. They were different. Ethan’s mouth ate at hers with a hunger that torched her own. With him, she held nothing back. Instead, she gave herself over and poured herself into the kiss.

There was heat there, heady and familiar, but the faint hint of desperation was new. As if each of them realized they were hurtling toward disaster, and as one they hit the accelerator. The weight of him, half settled over her, had flame licking up her spine. There was no slow buildup. Just a brutal punch of desire that shook her with its urgency.

She raked his bottom lip with her teeth, and the tiny bit of savagery unleased his own. Their breaths mingled, tongues tangled and teeth clashed as the world fell away to allow only for the kick of passion.

Alexa would never know which of them stilled first. Not because reason had returned. It took several seconds for that. When it did, comprehension followed.

Her phone had sounded again.

They both rose, but Ethan’s longer reach snagged her cell first to bring to her. And still it took a moment for her eyes to clear. For the fog of desire to dissipate. “There’s another message,” she said.

Alexa surged from the bed and crossed to the desk where she’d left the tablet. It was still open to her inbox. She recognized the sender. But this time, there was no subject. Just a jpeg icon to click on.

The picture that opened was old. Faded. A young woman with big hair and a bright smile holding a toddler. Alexa had never seen the photo before, but she recognized her mom as the subject. Which meant the child was her.

She had no idea who would have taken the photo. There had never been any dad or grandparents in her life. But that wasn’t the most disturbing thing about the image. Alexa had few snapshots from her childhood. This wasn’t among them.

But she knew exactly where the picture had come from. And the realization had a cold trickle of dread snaking down her spine.

* * *

“You don’t have to do this.” Ethan sent a troubled glance across the front seat of the vehicle. Alexa had said very little on the way to Truro from Halifax. She saw now that her silence had worried him.

She summoned a wan smile. “Actually, I do.”

Her sleep last night had been fitful. The second picture the UNSUB had sent had rocked her more than she’d like to admit. Ethan had realized it, and hadn’t pressed her about it. He’d been, in fact, so solicitous that it had taken an hour to convince him she’d be fine if he went back to his own room. The evening might have turned out much differently if not for the offender’s timing. And Alexa still wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Ethan turned the car off. Waited quietly while she stared at the house where she’d spent the last years of her childhood. She supposed everything in a person’s past shrank when confronted through the lens of time. The house seemed smaller, but it had never appeared this unkempt. The sidewalk leading up to the two cement steps had cracked and heaved in places. What remained of the lawn needed mowing. The siding on the home was chipped and faded, the trim stripped nearly bare of color. The entire structure seemed to tilt a bit, like a tired old man.

Ethan had never been inside; she’d made sure of that. It had taken weeks for him to convince her to see him outside of the library. Even longer to persuade her to accept a ride from him. If it was nice weather, they’d put her bike in the trunk and she’d insist that he let her out a few blocks away so she could ride it home. In the winter, she’d walk that distance. Always, he’d drive around the block a few times until he saw her safely inside the door. He’d had a strong Galahad streak, even as a teen.

“I tried to imagine back then. What life was like for you in there.” He gestured at the house. “I know I never came close to the reality.”

“It was…sad.” A pervasive hopelessness had seemed to reside inside, almost like another living breathing member of the family. As if Reisman’s disenchantment with the downward spiral of his career had taken form and sprang to life. The more disappointed he was, the harder life became for Alexa’s mother.

She shook off the memories and drew a fortifying breath. “He won’t talk to you. He has no respect for the authorities. They were called often enough when I was still at home. I notified them a few times myself.” No charges were ever filed for the domestic disturbances. He knew they never would be. Her mother had been much too indoctrinated by then for that. “But you start the conversation. Show your credentials. And we’ll see where it goes from there.” The conversation would deteriorate as soon as he recognized her, Alexa knew. But she was long past the age when his words could move her.

She opened her car door and got out, waiting for Ethan to do the same. When he rounded the hood of the vehicle, they walked toward the house she’d once sworn she’d never return to.

The screen door was minus a window, and it rattled when Ethan knocked on it. A long minute stretched before he repeated the gesture, harder this time. His fist was raised to try again before the inside door swung open wide enough to show a man in the wedge of space.

Alexa’s first thought was that the last two decades hadn’t been kind to Thomas Reisman. Like the house, he was showing signs of age. His once tall, spare frame had become slightly stooped, his thinness bordering on skeletal. Wisps of hair clung stubbornly to his head in random gray tufts. He glared at them suspiciously through glasses he’d never worn before. A bottle of orange juice was clutched in one hand. “What do you want?”

“RCMP Sergeant Manning and my associate, Dr. Alexa Hayden.” Ethan held up his credentials and let the man study them before he raised his gaze to the two of them.

Alexa braced herself for the outburst she knew would be forthcoming. But the man only repeated, “What do you want?”

“Did you have a visitor yesterday, Mr. Reisman? A stranger, perhaps?”

Reisman pursed his lips. “‘You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.’”

They waited, but when he said nothing further, Ethan pressed, “So someone did come here yesterday?”

“That’s my business, isn’t it?”

“Actually, it’s ours.” Ethan’s voice hardened. “We’re conducting a homicide investigation and we have reason to believe the perpetrator is the person who appeared at your door. We want to talk to you about that.”

“I have nothing to say.” Reisman took a step back, as if making to close the door, and the realization hit Alexa like a fist to the solar plexus.

He didn’t recognize her.

Somehow, the possibility had never occurred. But it should have. She’d never been more than a mouth to feed when she’d been living there. Another mind to bend and mold into his idea of a pious young woman. He’d kept her in line with beatings when she was younger, but he’d grown wilier by the time she was a teen. Any hint of less than total obedience from Alexa would be taken out on her mother. Once Alexa had realized that, Reisman had the control over her that he’d always sought.

She knew if she didn’t stop him, he’d shut the door on them and nothing would compel him to reopen it. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

“He was asking questions about me, wasn’t he? And you welcomed him into your home. Shared our history as if you’d known him for years.”

The man visibly started and then stared hard at her, his lips moving silently. “Alexa Hayden? It’s you, isn’t it, Grace?” His mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. And that, too, was familiar. “You found yet another man to marry you? Your type always finds a soft place to land.”

“My type earned doctorates in forensic entomology and forensic psychology.” She kept her voice hard. It was always a mistake to show any sign of weakness to the man. He’d used it as a weapon to bludgeon her with.

“‘Pride goeth before a fall.’”

“Your empty platitudes are just that. You were asked about the conversation with a stranger who came to your house yesterday.” The only way the UNSUB could have seen that photo was if he’d come here. And once Reisman started spouting Bible verses, the offender would have known just how to play the man. If Alexa was correct about the killer’s motivation, the two men might be kindred spirits. Both used religion to condone their actions.

“I’ve never had much use for the police.” The man glowered at Ethan. “Always butting their noses into people’s private business.”

“You can answer our questions here, or come with us to the RCMP detachment to explain why you’re covering for a man who has killed fifteen people,” she said crisply. And watched the comprehension belatedly filter into his expression, before he shook his head in disbelief.

“A murderer? I don’t believe you. You were always a wicked girl, refusing to embrace the light I brought into your life. And you ended up exactly as I always expected. A penniless, pregnant tramp who slept with anyone who crooked a finger. Drove your mother to an early death, not that you’d care about that.”

It was no more than she expected from him. But Ethan opened the screen and took a step toward the man, who must have sensed the threat in the movement. He shrank away. “Be very careful,” Ethan warned in a deceptively quiet voice. “She’s not a child anymore, to be bullied by the likes of you. She’s offered you a choice, and it’s one you need to make now.”

Reisman angled his jaw. “Who said anyone stopped here?” he asked Alexa truculently.

“I say. Because you gave him a photo of my mother and me. Or showed it to him and he took a picture of it. And then he shared it with me, and I knew immediately where he’d gotten it.”

“I didn’t give him any of the pictures. They were Rebecca’s and now they belong to me.” Alexa couldn’t believe he’d even kept any old photos. Certainly, he couldn’t claim sentimental attachment. To Thomas Reisman, Rebecca’s life had begun the moment he’d walked into it. Nothing that had happened before was of consequence. Including Alexa.

“But you showed them to him,” she prompted. Her hand curled around the wrought-iron railing on the side of the steps. “Did he ask you to?”

“He came in the afternoon. Two or so. I was taking a nap. He said that he knew you, that the two of you had met and were becoming friends. He knew you’d grown up in Truro and wanted to pay his respects. You wouldn’t understand anything about respect,” he said to Alexa bitterly. “I don’t believe all these lies you’re telling about him. It was obvious that he was a godly man. A good man.”

“Because he could match you in Bible verses?”

“‘The soothing tongue is a tree of life, but a perverse tongue crushes the spirit.’ I brought him a glass of water and we spoke of biblical things.” Reisman’s voice went sly. “I told him what a disappointment you’d been to us. How wickedly you’d turned away from the Lord. He understood, he said. He had family of his own. And yes, he wanted to see pictures of you. Asked a lot of questions about your life before I lifted Rebecca and you out of poverty and showed you the path toward God.”

“Did he introduce himself?”

The man cocked his head. “Anas. Anos. Anis. I think he said Anis. Anis Tera.”

A hard clutch of nerves tangled in Alexa’s belly. The UNSUB had used the same name when he’d contacted Simard. The offender had to know they’d come to talk to Reisman. He must be confident there was no way to tie the alias to his true identity. Certainly, the team’s attempts to do so had been unsuccessful. But the alias was important to him; it closely entwined the insect predator he emulated with his own acts.

“You say he was here around two?”

Reisman answered Ethan sullenly. “I said about then. I don’t know precisely. We spoke a while out here before I invited him inside.”

A serial killer had elicited an invitation to step inside Reisman’s home. His wife’s daughter had been met with vitriol. The irony was jarring.

“What did he look like?” she asked. She hadn’t looked forward to this meeting, and she desperately wanted it over now.

Reisman shrugged. “Not that tall. Maybe this high.” He touched his shoulder. Alexa made a mental measurement. That would make the offender no more than five feet six inches, which contradicted the five feet eight inches two other witnesses had pegged him at.

“What color was his hair?”

“Blond, I think.”

She and Ethan exchanged a glance. “Thomas.” Alexis deliberately gentled her voice. “I don’t remember you wearing glasses.”

“Macular degeneration,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t see a man sitting not three feet away from me.”

Depending on the progression of the disease, it could mean exactly that. “Did you see him get into a car?”

He shook his head definitely. “I walked him to the door and he thanked me for my time, and shared a Bible verse with me. And then I watched him walk away. He didn’t get into a vehicle.”

“Which way did he go?”

In answer to Ethan’s question Reisman pointed east, but his gaze settled on Alexa. “He wanted to know all about you and I told him. Every bit. All your sins. Your willful lack of repentance.” His smile was sly. “I don’t believe he left here with a very good impression of you.”