It was my turn to blink. “He?” I asked, walking toward him. “Kim Millar has been living in this apartment for years. Tall. Dark auburn hair. Painfully thin.”

He rubbed his mouth in thought. “Well, she sounds great, but she never lived here. This has been Old Man Johnson’s place for almost ten years.

“And your workmen just happened to clean this place out in twelve hours?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, chuckling. “Mr. Johnson died about two weeks ago. His family moved everything out last week.”

Uncle Bob took out his memo pad. “I need a name and address for his family.”

He rubbed his mouth again. “Not sure I have one, but I can look.”

“You do that.”

The manager nodded and headed back outside.

“I assume he’s lying?”

“Through his teeth, and happily so. There’s no telling what Reyes paid him.”

“You think he’s behind this?”

“I know he is. These are the most connected siblings I’ve ever met. Who can get an apartment stripped and refinished in the middle of the night like that? And I was with him.” Then it hit me. Reyes’s BFF Amador Sanchez, that’s who. I didn’t dare mention his name to Ubie. There was no need to drag him into the station. He’d only deny everything and have a rock-solid alibi.

“Well, I can send around a couple of uniforms to interview the other tenants. Get a few eyewitness reports and possibly a couple of descriptions of whoever did this.”

“Not sure what good that will do besides prove to the DA that I’m not crazy and I wasn’t lying. But she’s gone, Ubie. If Reyes wants her gone, she’s gone.”

After the manager couldn’t turn up an address for Mr. Johnson anywhere, we went back to Ubie’s SUV with our tails between our legs and started back to the station.

“This is going to negate my little contract with the DA.”

He fluttered the check. “I think this will help, pumpkin. And the fact that you have a strong suspicion on who our serial killer is. He wouldn’t give up that lead for anything.”

“You don’t think they’ll have me arrested for aiding and abetting?”

“I think they have better things to do with their time than prosecute one of their best and most successful consultants.”

That made me feel a little better, like a balloon with just enough air in it to be pear shaped. “Would you really have had me arrested if I hadn’t told you?”

“In a heartbeat.”

The air in my balloon rushed out, making a disturbing flatulence sound as it went.

“But don’t let it bother you. I would arrest my own mother if it meant a collar.”

“You would arrest Grandma?” Okay, I was better again, even though I had never met my grandmother. Both sets of grandparents had passed before I was born, actually. All I had was my stepmother’s father, and even he died when I was four.

This time we went straight to the DA’s office. He had meetings all afternoon, and we were hoping to catch him before he headed to lunch. We did, and the circus began anew. He ranted and railed until Uncle Bob handed him the check. It was strange how fast that cooled his overheated jets.

He called in the captain and the ADA, and I gave them Kim’s name, but not her connection to Reyes. He could be held liable for all this. Then again, Kim had proved herself mighty resourceful. Who can burn down two buildings, seven houses, a ramshackle garage, and a bunker and leave the cops scratching their heads? I admired her for her conviction, for her fierce desire to protect Reyes, more than I cared to acknowledge.

16

I don’t expect everything to be handed to me. Just set it down wherever.

—T-SHIRT

The first thing I did when I got back to Misery was to call Gemma again. Now that the whole arson thing was out of the way, I could concentrate on the other issues at hand. Namely the identity of the possible serial killer. When she didn’t answer either her cell or her office, I tried the GPS thing. No signal. She was probably with a client and had turned off her phone. But I was beginning to get worried. If the serial killer was whom I suspected, she could be in trouble for the mere fact that she was blond. I left her another message. Thankfully, Gemma was savvy and resourceful. And she didn’t have any tattoos. Nicolette said the victim had a tattoo of the number eight. Which, oddly enough, resembled an infinity symbol on its side.

My heart leapt into my throat. She was next. Gemma was the serial killer’s next victim.

I tore out of the station parking lot amidst glares from a couple of cops walking in and called Uncle Bob.

“Did you find her?” I asked him. “Did you find Gemma?”

“No, according to her secretary, she canceled all her appointments this morning and she’s not at her house.”

“Bloody hell.” Okay, no more playing games. “Uncle Bob, I think the serial killer is a client of hers. He’s a cop.”

“A cop?” That stole the wind from his sails. “Okay, explain.”

“The girl that scratched me left the exact same marks on my face that he has on his.”

“Charley, that’s really thin.”

“I know. I know how it sounds, but she was trying to tell me something, to give me a clue.”

“Well, I can’t accuse a cop of something like this without some solid evidence.”

“And I’ll get it, but first we have to get Gemma to a safe house. I think she’s next.”