They hurried back to the ward. The nurse at the reception desk was already expecting them, thanks to Owen's early preparation.

  "Please, come this way," she said briskly. "The patient's been awake for a half-hour now, and the docs have cleared him to be interviewed. It seems he's back to health again."

  It seemed so, May thought, because already she could hear raised voices coming from the ward. There, the suspect was arguing with the ward nurse.

  "I will not speak to anyone! There is no point! I am an innocent man, and I don't need this interference or for people to start upsetting me. Just let me rest for another few hours!" Nurse Keyes was protesting.

  May hurried into the ward. She was met by a glower as Nurse Keyes turned their way. May observed that his color was much better. He sure did look healthy again, but he was clearly in a terrible mood, and she didn't detect any gratitude for their life-saving actions last night.

  "And what is the meaning of this?" he demanded, addressing the ward nurse. "These people are going to harass me while my health is still so fragile? Please tell the supervisor this isn't acceptable! If I was still working here, which I might be once the lawsuit is over, I wouldn't allow it."

  May stepped forward, wanting to get the conversation back on track quickly.

  "Nurse Keyes, we're investigating a murder case. In the last three days, three local women have been brutally killed. It would be very helpful if you could cooperate with us," May said firmly.

  The nurse was still frowning, but now she didn't think he was as angry as he had been before. The question was, May knew, whether guilt was overtaking his anger.

  Or was he genuinely concerned that this was happening in his neighborhood?

  "What do you want to know?" he said grumpily.

  "Your movements yesterday and the day before. Can you account for your time?"

  "Why should I?" he shot back.

  "Because you are a suspect. The note that you left yesterday could be construed as a confession."

  "What? That's ridiculous! I don't know anything about those murders, and I certainly wasn't confessing!"

  "What were you intending to convey with that note then?"

  "I didn't mean that I'm the killer. I meant — I meant that I'd made some bad life decisions, that's all!"

  “And the patient files? Were you looking up victims?”

  “Did you take them?” He looked appalled. “I need those. They are my records that I was a good nurse and did my job correctly. I demanded them from the hospital. I’m using them in my case.”

  It certainly sounded as if the nurse’s fighting spirit was flaring again after his low point, May thought. Now they just needed to channel it in the right direction, to get the answers they were looking for.

  "So you should have no problem in helping us then? That would be a sensible life decision," May encouraged him. “I’ll give you the patient files back when we leave.”

  The nurse seemed to be considering.

  "What if I refuse to talk to you? What can you do? Will you arrest me then?" he asked.

  "We'd gather more evidence, and you would be held for questioning, at least until we can eliminate you as a suspect. Of course, refusing to talk would add to the burden of evidence."

  Nurse Keyes' eyes widened. He looked as if he was going to argue some more. Then, he seemed to think better of it.

  "Fine. I'll tell you then. The day before yesterday, I felt very upset. I mean, I'd been a top performer here at the hospital and then my whole life ended up in ruins. I felt suddenly depressed. I felt as if the harsh words I did allow myself to speak to a patient had backfired on me. I felt as if I'd been caught up in unnecessary conflict."

  "So what did you do?" May hoped that there would be an alibi — or a lack of one — somewhere in this emotional outpouring.

  "I went to the bar at lunch time."

  "Which bar?"

  "The Road House, down by the corner of the highway."

  "Did you go alone?"

  "Yes, I did. And I spent the afternoon in there, drinking. It was very unwise. The barman eventually kicked me out at about midnight. He called a cab for me."

  May nodded. This effectively meant that the nurse would not have been able to murder Jenna Brand. While she had been getting hunted down, he'd been drowning his sorrows, with the barman as witness.

  "And yesterday?" May asked, just to confirm his actions in full.

  "I woke up with a terrible hangover. I went to get some headache tablets and thought I would stock up on sleeping tablets too, as I haven't been sleeping well. I then had a call with my lawyer. Then I put my resumé out there and applied for a few jobs. I called around to a few agencies, wondering if I should move out of state. That took basically the whole afternoon. I mean, the calls, the emails, the information they needed. I even called a few estate agents."

  "Go on?" May asked. Undoubtedly, these phone records and emails could be confirmed, and they would prove that the nurse hadn't been hiding out in a barn, waiting for his next victim.

  "I wrapped up at about eight p.m. and then I started feeling sorry for myself."

  "Why is that?" Owen asked.

  "I got very depressed. I always do after I've had too much to drink. So I unfortunately wrote that note, and took too many sleeping tablets. I never intended for it to get so out of hand. I thought it would be more of a gesture. But then I found I couldn't stop."

  Now, finally, Nurse Keyes looked at May with a flicker of gratitude.

  "I'm thankful to you for saving my life. I really am."

  "I'm just glad we were able to help you," May replied, deciding to be honest. “And I'm sorry that you were feeling so down. I know what it's like to have a bad day. Next time, you should call a friend or else one of the help lines." Privately, she also thought the nurse needed to focus on anger management, and if he couldn’t do that, then he might need to look at a different job, but that was a conversation for another time.

  Nurse Keyes was silent for a moment, then he nodded.

  "I know. And I'm going to take your advice. I'm going to start calling my friends more, and maybe go out with them more. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'm going to make a real effort to do that. I think with everything that's happened, I haven't been paying enough attention to my own mental state."

  May nodded, feeling glad that whatever the future would hold for the nurse, he was going to try harder to get some support in facing up to it. She handed the patient files to him, and he took them with a nod of thanks.

  This final gesture meant she was sure their strong suspect was not guilty. And that meant they were all out of leads.

  It was now ten a.m. and they had nowhere to turn.

  And then, an idea occurred to May.

  "Owen, I've thought of another angle," she said, as they walked out of the ward.

  "You have? What's that?" he replied in a muttered voice.

  "The victims have all escaped death, and even though Nurse Keyes was not involved, it still meant that two of them ended up being treated at the hospital," May said.

  "Correct," Owen said.

  "Perhaps we could take that idea forward. And find out who this man might be planning to kill."

  "By finding out who else has recently been in the ICU and survived?" Owen asked.

  "Yes. If we could get an idea of who he might target next, it would help us a lot. The hospital would have records of women who live locally and who have spent time in the ICU recently, and survived events where they could have died."

  "May, that's a great idea." Owen looked suddenly doubtful. "If they'll give us the records, of course."

  "It's a matter of life and death, surely?" May said. "Let's go back to the hospital administrator and ask him what information he's prepared to share. Given that it might save the lives of future victims, surely, he'll realize it's important?"

  "I think we must try," Owen said.

  Instead of heading out of the hospital, May took a turn and followed the route she'd done before, going in the direction of the hospital administrator’s office.

  There, she hoped, they could get answers — from the future victims themselves.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  May and Owen rushed through the bustling hospital, which was now becoming a hive of activity as the day progressed. May hoped the hospital administrator would already be at work, or that somebody would be around who could help them access these records.

  Not only would this allow her to warn future victims, but it might also point the way to who was being targeted next. They could put police officers in place to guard areas that were at risk and talk to the women themselves to see if they had noticed any small and perhaps subtle signs that they might be watched or followed.

  Heading down a corridor, they walked toward the office they had visited the day before.

  They'd gotten the answer they needed then. May hoped they could get the same again.

  She was sure that at least one of the victims might have spotted something, a subtle sign, a glimpse of someone following them. And that one piece of information might be all that they needed to solve the case and prevent any more deaths.

  "He might not be in yet," Owen said.

  "If he's not in, we'll have to call him. At this point, we need to take whatever we can get," May replied.

  But as they approached the administrator’s office, May saw that they were getting lucky — so far, anyway.

  He was inside, in fact, he seemed to have just arrived.

  Mr. Smith glanced up and seemed surprised to see May and Owen at his door again.

  "Morning, deputies. Did you come right yesterday with what I gave you?" he asked.

  "We haven't come right yet. We are still hunting down the killer," May said.

  "What can I help you with?" he asked cautiously.

  "I want to talk to you about a new angle." She took a deep breath. "We wondered if we could find out who else has been in the ICU recently, and who has recovered. Particularly women who live locally, as they seem to be at the highest risk of being targeted. This killer is seeking out people who have been close to death and recovered. We think he might see himself as needing to complete the job, for some reason,"

  "Are you asking for specific patient records?" the administrator asked.

  "We are, yes," May confirmed. "I need to warn the women who have survived serious illness or a bad accident. And question them, to see if they might have noticed anyone following them. I know it's not a typical request, but this could save lives."

  She stared at him pleadingly, seeing that he did not look very cooperative, and in fact was shaking his head.

  "I'm sorry. I understand how serious this is, I really do. But we cannot release names of patients. It would be a breach of confidentiality and we would be open to lawsuits as a result."

  May stared at him in consternation. "But lives are at stake! Can we not make an exception here?"

  "No. It's not possible," he said, shaking his head.

  "If this man is targeting certain women, they need to be warned. And they need to know what to do to prevent themselves from becoming a victim," May pleaded.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I really am. I know it's important, but we cannot do this. We cannot make exceptions. It's not just a matter of confidentiality. The law specifically states that we cannot reveal the names of patients."

  May opened her mouth to argue, then realized that this was a waste of time. The administrator was not being hardass. He was genuinely sympathetic. But he also had a duty to follow the regulations that were normally in place for very good reasons.

  "I'll tell you what I can do," he said.

  "What's that?" May asked.

  "I can contact the former patients who fit your description and warn them about this killer. I’ll explain that someone in the community seems to be targeting people who've escaped death or disaster, and that we need them to be careful, keep a lookout, and stay inside and call the police if they notice anything. That, I can do for you and will do."

  "Thank you," May said. "I'd appreciate that a lot."

  This was better than nothing. She felt grateful that Mr. Smith was clearly doing the best he could to help.

  "I'll get onto that this morning," he promised her.

  May and Owen turned and left, not wanting to take up any more of the busy administrator’s time. May felt frustrated that they could not speak to the victims directly. She hoped that some of them might reach out to her if he contacted them. Some would be better than none.

  At that moment, her phone rang.

  It was Kerry, and May realized with a stab of guilt that she hadn't yet called her sister to say that Nurse Keyes was cleared.

  As she and Owen hurried along the hospital corridor, May quickly picked up the call.

  "Hey, Kerry," she said.

  "Hey, sis. I've had a look at these records." Kerry sounded brisk and organized, as if she'd had a full eight hours' sleep, even though May knew that was surely impossible. "And I don't think Nurse Keyes is your guy, based on the timing of the recent murders, which I've also looked up. He's been calling and texting a lot, contacting a number that I think is probably his lawyer, as well as communicating with a lot of employment agencies. When I look at the timeframes, I don't think he would have had time yesterday to do what he's been doing, plus stalk a victim."

  “I really appreciate that you've done the research," May said gratefully.

  "No problem. It was fairly easy once I got into the databases." Kerry paused. "So you're still looking for your killer then?"

  "Yes, we are. The nurse is a dead end, and that means we're all out of suspects. The hospital administrator won't give us ICU records. He says they're private. He'll reach out to the patients himself this morning and warn them, or so he says, anyway."

  "Hmm. That's annoying you can't do more your side," Kerry said thoughtfully.

  May turned right. Owen was indicating hopefully toward a coffee shop near the hospital entrance. Thinking this was an excellent idea, May made a beeline for it. They needed coffee and breakfast and might as well eat while they could.

  "It is super-frustrating," May admitted. "I wish we could figure out a way to identify potential victims. Whoever the killer is targeting next is in serious danger, Kerry. This is a small, tight-knit town. People are trusting here. They don't think bad things will happen."

  "And yet, even though you don't know who's been close to death, the killer has a way of knowing," Kerry said thoughtfully.

  "Yes, and I don't know how."

  "Shall I profile him for you?" Kerry said.

  "That would be wonderful." May felt a flicker of hope. "Do you think you could do that based on what you know of the victims?"

  "I think I can.”

  “I’ll send you everything we have on the case so far,” May said, as she and Owen hurried into the coffee shop.

  “That’ll be great. Let me research a little more, then I'll take a shot at it. I'll call you back in an hour or so, and give you my findings," Kerry promised her.

  May felt grateful, as she and Owen sat down and she hurriedly took out her laptop bag, that having her sister's help and expertise might give them a new lead.

  This killer must be lurking among the community. He must be well-connected with people in the area.

  And perhaps, with Kerry's profiling skills, they could narrow down who he really was before he had the chance to kill again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  The Reaper was at work again. He knew his job was now urgent. It was a calling, a mission, an emergency that needed to be carried out. How could he sleep, when there were so many souls whose time on earth should have been over? Who needed to feel his scythe plunging into their hearts?

  He knew that time was running out, that the police were on his trail, trying to stop him. This was a small community. Of course, he knew.

  It meant he had to work faster. There was a lot to do. He needed to correct as many of the imbalances as he could. He had to do this at full speed and keep ahead of the people who sought to stop him.

  This was now a crusade for justice. Fire filled his veins at the thought of what was possible, what he could do.

  Today, he was going to bring the balance closer to where it should be. He was going to claim three souls in the next twenty-four hours if time allowed.

  He had chosen his victims carefully, knowing that each one deserved to die. And now he was about to relish the moment of their deaths. But three in one day meant he had to work fast. He would have to move at lightning speed, while still being sure that he made no mistakes.

  The Reaper turned on the radio in his car, and cranked the volume up, filling the car with the songs he loved. He needed to feel the music in his soul, to feel empowered. To light the fire of determination that would feed his need for revenge on the world, to make up for what the world had robbed from him.

  He had to make everyone pay.

  His scythe, razor sharp and clean, was resting on the back seat. But because the Reaper knew that he might be caught in a roadblock and that the police might be aiming to prevent him from doing his work, it was disguised.

  He had carefully wrapped his scythe in a layer of cloth, so that it was all but invisible. Then he had placed it among a bunch of straw brooms, so that its metallic sharpness was hidden, concealed by their spreading bristles. Anyone who looked would think he was simply making a delivery of brooms. And that was what he would say.

  He was just helping out someone in the community who needed these items. Helping someone in need. They would believe that of him when they saw who he was.

  At least the weather was on his side, with clear blue skies, a brilliant sun, and puffy white clouds. It would be a good day for cutting souls loose from their bodies. And more importantly, it was a good day for people to be out for a walk.

  His first victim that he had earmarked for today always went for a walk in the morning. He had watched her for a few days in the past week. She never failed in her habits. Her name was Louise Holmes.