10“REBECCA AVENUE,” muttered Katie, straining her eyes in the dark. “Rebecca—where are you, Rebecca? You twat.”She searched for the street her car was parked on, limping along with Blondie in tow. A police car crept by on night patrol, and again she receded into the fog and waited, keeping the dog out of sight. Her legs almost gave out once but she steadied herself, spurring her battered muscles on, and continued walking.Finally there it was: the burnt-orange Dodge Avenger.She popped the locks with her key remote, letting Blondie hop up into the back seat. Katie slid into the front and sat a moment. In her fatigued state, she felt as if she could put the seat back and become unconscious right there. Instead, she drank from the bottle of spring water in her console holder, poured some into her cupped hand so the dog could drink also.Then she caught her own reflection in the rearview mirror.Digging through her glove compartment, Katie found wet wipes and some napkins and was

12“HE’S GONE,” Katie said hoarsely into her cell phone. She sat inside her room at Pye’s New Look Motor Hotel, petting the German shepherd that lay on the bed with her.“Gone? That’s all?” said Palm Clemency on the other end.“Yes. He’s gone.” Gone to the dogs. Katie bit her lip, and cleared her scratchy throat. “He burned in the fire—Cornelius Prichard.”“And he was Vespers? Our killer.”“Yes.”“How do you know this?”“I just know it. Did you find the knife in the field?”“Yes.”Katie took a drink of orange soda and winced. “It’s his. Pritchard’s. He was the murderer, Chief.”“Why? Why’d he do it?”“That I don’t know.”“And he died in the fire that turned Shaw-Meredith House into cinders? How did it happen? Why there?”Katie said nothing for several seconds: “He’s gone, Chief.”Clemency exhaled. “So that’s it? That’s all I’m going to get?”“You have his knife, isn’t that enough?”“No. It is not.”“Well, it’ll have to do for now. Trust me.”There was a pause. “W