Turk reached the front door and stood, barking and growling. Faith and Michael approached slowly, handguns pointed at the ground.

  “FBI!” Michael shouted. “Henry Levinson! Come out with your hands up!”

  Faith looked around. The driveway was empty. There were tire marks, fresh ones that led into the garage. She pointed them out to Michael, and Michael nodded. “Henry! We know you’re in there! Come out, or we’re coming in!”

  More silence. Faith looked at Michael, and they both nodded again.

  “Turk,” Faith called softly. “Come.”

  Turk trotted back to stand in front of her, glaring at the door.

  Michael stood squarely in front of the door. It was a solid-looking, mahogany wood structure and probably weighed as much as the two of them put together. He shook his head, then took a deep breath, lifted his leg, and slammed it into the door just below the doorknob. The door cracked, a jagged line running from the ceiling to the floor, but it didn’t open.

  Michael took a breath and tried again. This time, the door cracked all the way through. The broken portion swung lazily in on its hinges.

  Turk sprinted inside, and Faith and Michael followed, weapons pointed ahead. Turk ran upstairs, and Faith followed him while Michael cleared the rooms downstairs.

  Turk ran straight into the bedroom and stood at attention in front of the room’s desk. He sniffed and whined in front of one of the pullout drawers.

  Faith cleared the bedroom and forced herself to move on to the other rooms before returning to Turk. She was certain she knew what Turk had found, but it wouldn’t help anyone if Levinson decided to show up with his trusty knife while she was distracted looking at his trophies.

  Turk continued to sniff at that drawer. Faith resisted the urge to find out what he was smelling until she ensured the house was empty.

  The bathroom and the two other bedrooms were empty. She called down, “Clear!” and a moment later, she heard Michael shout, “Clear!”

  She holstered her weapon and returned to the bedroom. Michael joined her a moment later. “Dammit,” he said, “he’s done a runner.”

  “No,” Faith said. “I don’t think so.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said. “Look around, he’s not here. Car’s not in the garage either.”

  “Yes, but his clothes are all in their place. Nothing’s torn up or missing. He’s left his laptop, and I’ll bet you anything the fridge is stocked.”

  “Yeah, because he didn’t think he was going to get caught today. He was, and now he’s gone.”

  “Without a change of clothes? Without his laptop?”

  “He probably had a bugout bag and who cares about the laptop? What’s he gonna do, take up freelance journalism? Besides, they could track the IP address and find him. I’ll bet anything his cell phone is in pieces on the side of the Ten Freeway.”

  “Maybe,” Faith said, “but I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  Turk whined again and barked, pulling their attention back to the drawer. Faith opened it and revealed the answer. Three rings, one size four, one size four-and-a-half, one size eight. The two smaller rings were set with tiny diamonds around the band, and the larger one was inscribed E.H. on the inside of the band.

  “Son of a bitch,” Michael said. “You were right. It was the rings.”

  “Yes,” Faith said, “and he wouldn’t leave without them. He’s planning to come back.”

  “Why?” Michael asked. “Why wouldn’t he run? He knows you saw him.”

  “He probably knows or has figured out that I didn’t see him well enough. Or maybe he knows that Kevin MacGregor looks like him and figured we’d like a convicted murderer better than a nice guy.”

  Michael shook his head. “God, I hate smart criminals.”

  “No criminal is that smart,” Faith said. “We caught him, after all.”

  “Great,” Michael said. “So, we just move the car and wait for him to come home.”

  Faith nodded, but then a horrible premonition came to her. “No,” she said. “No, we don’t.”

  “What?” Michael asked. “Seriously? He’s here, Faith. If you’re saying he’s coming back—”

  “He’s coming back,” Faith agreed, “but he’s working first.”

  “Working? We were just at his work …” His eyes widened as he understood. “Oh, shit.”

  “Come on,” Faith said. “We need to get back to the DOT.”

  “Dammit,” Michael said. “Do you think we’re too late?”

  “I don’t know,” Faith said, “but I sure as hell hope not.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  When they arrived at the DOT office again, Darla said, “Oh, don’t tell me he’s not your guy either?”

  “He’s our guy,” Faith said.

  “How do you know?” Darla demanded.

  “We know,” Michael said.

  “That can’t be,” Darla said. “Not Henry.”

  “We need to know everyone he helped today,” Faith said. “Every single person. We think he left work early to plan another murder.”

  “Oh God,” she said weakly. “He said his cousin was in the hospital. I just let him go. I didn’t think … oh my God.”

  “Hey,” Faith said, snapping her fingers. “We can still stop him. Who did he help today? We need to know.”

  “Okay,” she said, sniffling. “Um … we can look at his terminal. There’s a list of everyone who visited him.”

  They headed to the terminal, where a portly man in his mid-fifties, wearing the same bored expression every government employee Faith had ever seen had, sat impatiently explaining to a pissed-off looking woman that it wasn’t his problem that she filled out the wrong form prior to coming into the office.

  “Dan,” Darla said, “we need the terminal.”

  “Excuse me?” the woman said. “I’ve been here for forty-five minutes, and—”

  “And you need to wait here or get back in line,” Faith said, flashing her ID.

  Dan’s eyes widened, and he vacated the chair as quickly as his portly frame would allow. The woman looked about to say something else, but the look on Michael’s face stopped her. She frowned and stormed off, muttering something about taxpayer money.

  Darla logged into the terminal. Levinson’s profile booted up, and she explained, “I keep their login information in case I need to reconcile hours. For reporting.”

  Faith couldn’t care less about any policy violation Darla’s password-sharing might involve. “Can you filter by marital status?”

  She blinked at Faith. “Why on Earth does it matter—”

  “Can you do it?” Faith snapped.

  “No,” she said.

  Faith slumped. “So, there’s no way to tell if his visitors were married or divorced?”

  “DOT won’t have that information,” Darla said.

  “The IRS will,” Michael said, opening the FBI’s database app on his phone and clicking the appropriate links. “Feed me names, starting from the first one and heading on up.”

  “That could take a while,” Darla said. “We close in …”

  She saw Faith’s face and thought better of finishing that sentence.

  “What do you want me to do?” Dan asked.

  “Piss off,” Michael replied without looking.

  Dan decided, wisely, to accept Michael’s advice.

  While Darla read off the names, Faith called Derek. The detective answered on the third ring. “I’m starting to get really pissed off every time I see your name on my caller ID,” he said grouchily.

  Faith ignored the insult. “Derek, it’s not Kevin. We found the rings at another DOT employee’s house. Henry Levinson.”

  “Oh shit,” he said. “Travis! Get over here! They found the rings at another guy’s house!”

  To Faith, he said, “What’s the address?”

  “We already checked it out,” Faith said. “He’s not home. We think he’s out looking for someone else. I’m at the DOT office. We’re going through the list of people Levinson saw today so we can find everyone who’s married or divorced.”

  “Jesus, Bold, that has to be dozens of people.”

  “Yes,” Faith said, “that’s why I’m calling you. I’m going to give you names and phone numbers. You guys need to start making phone calls. Anyone who doesn’t reply to a voicemail with an all-okay within five minutes, you send a cruiser to visit them.”

  “We don’t have enough cruisers to go around visiting everyone …”

  “Dammit, Derek!” Faith shouted. “Stop telling me why this won’t work and just do it!”

  “Okay,” Derek said. “Christ.”

  Faith snapped her fingers at Michael who set his notepad on the counter and tapped at the two names and phone numbers Darla had found so far. Faith fed them to Derek and overheard Travis dialing the number.

  They spent just over an hour verifying names. Eight times, there was no answer, and officers were dispatched to the scene. When they finished searching, there were seven names left that hadn’t answered or been verified safe by officers.

  “Nothing?” Faith asked.

  “Nothing,” Derek said. “Everyone’s home safe.”

  Faith swore. She took a breath and said, “All right. Dammit. Michael and I are going to split up and help.”

  “Split up?” Michael said, “Faith—”

  Faith held up her hand. “I’ll take Gina Norris. Michael, you take Devlin von Trapp. You and your officers take the other five, Derek. If you get him, let us know.”

  “Will do,” Derek says. “I’m sending a car to Levinson’s house, too, just in case he shows up while we’re out running around.”

  “Good thinking,” Faith said.

  She hung up and turned to Michael, who was clearly displeased at the thought of splitting up. “I’ll take Turk,” she said. “We know Levinson’s scared of him. He’ll keep me safe.”

  “Not if Levinson has a gun or is handy enough with his knife,” Michael said.

  “No time to argue,” Faith retorted. “Take the car. Darla, I’m taking yours.”

  “What?” Darla said. “Now wait, I’m happy to help, but I need that car to get home.”

  “You’ll get it back,” Faith said, “but as of right now, I am officially commandeering your vehicle for FBI service.”

  Darla looked like she wanted to protest, but finally, she sighed and reached for her keys. “You better not scratch it,” she told Faith.

  “No promises,” Faith said, “but we’ll reimburse you for any damages. What car is yours?”

  Her car turned out to be an old sedan with faded green paint and a crack in the windshield that ran from the hood to the roof and was positioned squarely in front of the driver’s seat. Faith thought wryly that the Bureau would almost certainly end up paying for those repairs.

  It would all be worth it if they could catch Levinson before he hurt someone else.

  The ten minutes to Gina Norris’s house felt like ten hours to Faith. She called Derek and let him know the license plate and make and model of her vehicle, so she wouldn’t get pulled over for speeding or running stop signs, but the old sedan was barely capable of reaching the limit, let alone exceeding it.

  She finally reached the house and rushed to the front door. Turk didn’t react to the scent the way he had at Hank’s house. Faith sighed. Almost certainly, Levinson wasn’t here.

  She walked to the front door and hit the doorbell. A moment later, an African American woman in her mid-thirties answered the door. “Hello?” she said cautiously.

  “I’m Special Agent Faith Bold, FBI,” Faith said. “Are you Gina Norris?”

  The woman eyed Faith warily. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t help you.”

  She made to close the door, and Faith stopped it with her foot, showing her ID. When she saw the ID, the woman’s eyes widened.

  “Ma’am,” Faith said, calmly but sternly, “I believe that Gina Norris’s life is in danger. I’m coming inside.”

  “I’m Gina Norris,” the woman said, breath thready. “What’s this about? Did … did Jamal do something?”

  “No,” Faith said, “your husband isn’t involved. We believe you’re being targeted by a killer who hunts people who are unfaithful in their marriages.”

  Gina’s face blanched. “But … it’s not my fault. Jamal doesn’t take care of me. He doesn’t meet my needs, he—”

  “I truly don’t care, ma’am,” Faith said, “and neither does the killer. I need to go inside and make sure he’s not here.”

  “Well, he’s not here,” Gina said. “I’m the only one here.”

  “I need to check, ma’am,” Faith says. “We believe he hides in his victims’ residences and waits for the right moment to strike. He could be in your house already.”

  Gina regarded Faith with a look of shock. “Umm,” she said, “Umm …”

  “May I come inside, ma’am?”

  “Okay,” Gina said, a faraway sound in her voice.

  “Go ahead, Turk,” Faith said. “Find him.”

  The dog rushed in, nose to the ground. Faith followed, weapon drawn. When Gina saw the handgun, she gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth.

  Faith followed Turk through the kitchen, checking the walk-in pantry and the cabinet under the sink. There was no one there.

  “You think he’s hiding in the cabinets?” Gina asked. “How small is he?”

  “I’m just being thorough, ma’am,” Faith said.

  The living room was empty, too, as was the laundry room and downstairs bathroom. Faith headed to the garage, checking carefully inside and underneath Gina’s car. There was no sign of anyone there.

  “Do you want to check the backyard?” Gina suggested. “Jamal has a woodshed out there. I should say that he did have a woodshed out there before he moved out.”

  “Yes, I want to check,” he said.

  Faith’s phone buzzed on the way outside. She let it ring, but when an inspection of the shed proved that he wasn’t there, Faith checked.

  It was a text from Michael. All clear at von Trapp.

  “No luck?” Gina asked.

  “I still need to check upstairs,” Faith said. “Stay downstairs while I look.”

  Upstairs, the walk-in linen closet was empty, along with the guest room, the study, and the other bathroom.

  Faith tensed as she and Turk entered the bedroom. This was the last room in the house. If Levinson was here, he was in this room. She checked behind and under the bed. She checked the bathroom and walk-in closet.

  The room was empty. Levinson wasn’t here. Faith sighed and holstered her weapon, then headed downstairs. Gina, realizing that the killer wasn’t in her house, lost that shellshocked expression, replacing it with an impatiently exasperated one. “Well?” she said. “He’s not here, I’m guessing.”

  “No,” Faith said. “I apologize for frightening you. Thank you for your time.”

  “That’s all right,” Gina said in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t. “Maybe you could call next time.”

  “We did,” Faith said. “You didn’t answer.”

  “Well, I don’t answer numbers I don’t recognize,” Gina said irritably.

  Faith could have explained that was why she had to visit the house personally, but she decided it wasn’t worth her time trying. “Have a nice evening, ma’am,” she said. “Lock your doors and windows, and if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, please call nine-one-one.”

  She walked outside, Turk on her heels. “Well, boy,” she said, “I guess someone else gets to catch this killer.”

  She walked back to Darla’s car and started dialing Darla’s number to ask where to return the vehicle, but stopped when her phone rang. It was Derek.

  “No luck,” Derek said. “We checked every single house. No one’s there. You have the rings?”

  “I have them,” Faith said. “Levinson is our man for sure.”

  “Well,” Derek said, “he’s gone. I’m guessing you didn’t find him at Gina Norris’s residence?”

  “No,” Faith said quietly.

  “Well,” Derek said, “that’s that, I guess.”

  “Yeah,” Faith said. “I guess.”

  “We’ll put out an APB,” Derek said. “We’ll get the Border Patrol and Marshals on it. If he tries to leave the state or the country, we’ll pick him up. Don’t worry, Bold. He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Okay,” Faith said, “thank you.”

  Derek hung up, and she sighed, staring out at the window. It didn’t make sense. Why would he have left without the rings? It just didn’t make sense. She was so sure the rings were important.

  Maybe she had underestimated him. Maybe he was strong enough that he could overcome his need for the keepsakes when his freedom was on the line. There was no arguing that he wasn’t in Gina Norris’s house, and if he wasn’t at any of the other houses, then he must be gone.

  Or he had selected his victim before today, and they were barking completely up the wrong tree. She hoped desperately that wasn’t the case, but if it was, she supposed they would find out soon enough.

  She pushed the keys into the ignition, but before she could start the engine, she paused. She had forgotten to check a large standing wardrobe in the bedroom. She hesitated, wondering if it was worth going back into the house for that. Turk hadn’t smelled anything, but if it was the rings he smelled and not the killer himself, then he wouldn’t have picked up a scent.

  That was why Levinson left the rings at home. Faith was sure of that. She had no way of knowing that it was true, but it was as powerful a hunch as any she’d ever felt.

  She had to check. Worst case, Darla would chew her out for scaring her again.

  She got out of the car and headed to the door. She knocked, but there was no answer. A stone formed in the pit of Faith’s stomach. She knocked again, and once more, there was no answer. She called Gina’s number. It went straight to voicemail. She called out, “Gina? Mrs. Norris?”

  There was no response.

  She drew her weapon and tested the door. At the same time, Turk growled low in his throat. Faith’s heart raced, and she silently prayed the door was unlocked in spite of her advice to Gina.