"Thanks for cooperating, but next time, do it when you’re approached," Connor warned. "We're not pressing charges for failure to obey, but we could. Don't risk it happening again."

  "I won't," Roger said meekly. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

  They stood up, and Connor went with Roger to process his release. That left Cami alone. Standing in the corridor, she felt worried, and her mind was racing.

  That had been their first and only suspect. She hadn't found anyone else in common between the two women. There had to be another way to take this forward.

  Facial recognition. That would have to be the key, but how had it been used? And where?

  A light went on in Cami's brain. If both these women had been high profile and living in Boston, they might have attended the same events or functions. And at those, facial recognition could have been deployed to keep unwanted guests out.

  That was going to be her next direction.

  She was going to explore the places they were at and see whether a killer had been waiting and watching there.

  CHAPTER NINE

  She liked to think of herself as an eagle, with an eagle's eye, surveying the world and surveying her prey. That was what she saw now on those rare occasions when she looked into a mirror. Although she didn't do that too much anymore, for good reasons.

  When she couldn't avoid the glance, though, she saw the baleful eye, the curved beak, and the spread of wings. She didn't see herself at all.

  "I'm invisible. I have risen beyond what I was. All I am is the eagle," she whispered. And that was okay; that was a natural progression. She'd known that she would become something and rise above who she had been before.

  Turning away from the mirror, she didn't even see the worn tiles of the bathroom or the rather grimy tub. Since following her vocation, the minor details had been neglected, and she was the first to admit that. All she saw, superimposed upon this powerful vision, was the layout of faces that she'd narrowed down.

  The right faces.

  She'd hungered after them for so long. It was only recently that technology had allowed her to achieve her goals.

  It had taken months of careful research and planning, but she'd finally achieved her aim.

  She had found the right people, and she was now ready to put all her ideas into action, to go ahead and make her dreams reality. It had been a long and painstaking process that had challenged her in many ways and in unforeseen directions, but in the end, she had narrowed it down to a list of names.

  A twisted smile accompanied this motivational speaker lingo as it went through her head. She'd never believed that self-help speak. It was all meaningless, designed only to keep the little people in a comfort zone, believing they were getting somewhere with their sad, meaningless lives.

  She was different, she'd gone way beyond them. Now, her life had meaning, purpose, and excitement that went far beyond what some guy up on stage could convince her it needed.

  Now, she liked to feel, she was living her true calling. And she'd been so clever about it. Her own determination, her dedication to her cause, filled her with a fierce, burning pride.

  She'd already done her research, and she had narrowed down the locations of each of the people on her list. Carefully chosen people, and she'd even taken care with the locations themselves. Research, research, research. She was good at it. Women were invisible, especially her.

  She'd been discreet, of course, so as not to arouse suspicion, but she was confident that she could find out any other small details she needed to know. And one thing she was sure of was that people wouldn't see her.

  Even so, it was essential to be very careful about that, and even when in a public place, she kept off the radar and away from cameras. They never did notice her when she didn't want to be seen, and what a necessary skill that was.

  Grabbing her keys off the desk in the tiny study, she headed out.

  The next face was clearly in her mind, so similar to the other two. They could all have been beautiful sisters, and it gave her a sense of extreme satisfaction when she thought about how the main points of their faces aligned so closely.

  Similarities that she'd spent hours comparing. The height and distance of the cheekbones, the shapes of the jaw. The structural similarities were the most important. The rise of the forehead, the curve of the chin.

  Then came the smaller details. Eye size, lip shape. Also critical, though not as immediately obvious.

  Being picky, she'd ruled out a few at this stage. Lips too thin, nose the wrong shape, eyes too far apart or close together or simply too small. And then the final coloring, what she thought of as the minor details. Hair color, eye color, and the shading of the skin. Because she was looking for mirror images, close comparisons, uncanny likenesses.

  She got in her car, with those features floating in her mind, and set off to her next destination. She wasn't just going anywhere. This next woman had been meticulously researched after she'd identified her a couple of weeks ago thanks to the software, and she was looking forward to meeting her.

  Like the others, she was a very busy woman, with a very exciting and fairly high-profile career. Not surprising. Those looks conferred success and attention. But her whereabouts, she'd researched extensively. Her home was a beautiful, double-story house in a quiet suburb.

  "You're wealthy; you're successful," she muttered. "You have it all. But not for long. Not forever. Beauty is fleeting."

  Gripping the wheel, she muttered the words aloud, hastily jamming on brakes as she saw she'd exceeded the limit.

  It was only a few more minutes until she'd be face to face with the woman she'd been stalking for so long. Her eagle eyes were focused on the navigation, on the house she was heading toward. But she needed to take care now.

  She slowed down, her heart pounding, making sure to be more cautious as she drove down the side road, into the cul de sac, and then she was there.

  The house was perfect—large, luxurious, with a well-groomed front garden. It was now after dark, and the neighborhood was quiet. Lights were on; people were home. Winding down the window, she smelled the aromas of grilled meat and baking bread from somewhere nearby.

  There were no cameras in sight. She'd driven the route earlier this afternoon in daylight to look out for them. She'd spotted two further back and had adjusted her route accordingly. Cameras were a no-no.

  The woman in question would be coming home from a high-profile meeting, and she should be alone. Slipping out of her car, she made her way up the road. She was careful to stay in the shadows and to keep her movements slow and silent.

  She looked at the layout of the house, at where she would arrive, at how the garage door would open to admit her gleaming SUV.

  Her plan would work. It would have to be fast and precise, but she knew she could do it. She had done it before, and she would do it again.

  She had the tools, and the knowledge of the house and the woman, that she needed. Now, too, she had the experience. She'd wielded that sharp knife before, and she hadn't hesitated. Only pride and triumph had filled her. There had been no regret, no distaste. And no fear. She was far beyond fear.

  "I don't fear what I'm going to do. But you will feel it," she whispered, power flooding through her as she stood. "You'll feel fear. You need to. Because what you have, what you are, is only an illusion. It's nothing more than a fantasy, a veneer. I'm going to rip it away from you because someone must."

  But then, disappointment.

  The family from next door came outside. They were looking at something, discussing something, even as her target pulled up in her driveway.

  She was ready for this and could adapt. Swiftly and invisibly, she melted away, taking a side road back to where she’d left her car.

  It wasn't going to happen tonight but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all because she was so well prepared.

  Tomorrow morning was the alternative time she had in mind, and she couldn't wait for the endless hours between now and then to pass. She’d be there, with some disguise, some props to help her remain invisible until the time was right.

  Then she'd be back, and next time, she'd have the knife in her hands, ready to use.

  She was an eagle, and she was ready to soar.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It had sounded so easy, but it wasn't. Cami felt desperate as she tried yet another direction that would fit her theory. With no other leads to follow, she'd been trying to figure out, for hours now, which hunting ground this killer had used, with the facial recognition software in place.

  How had he hunted? In which set of data had he found his victims? Nightclubs? Dating sites?

  The problem was that she was finding it slow, tedious work to access the records of these places, and the ones that were in the public domain weren’t yielding any results.

  She’d managed to access a couple of venues she’d thought were likely but hadn’t found either of them there. She guessed the software was too new. And to find both these women, the killer must have had access to a pool of data that contained both faces.

  It felt as if this killer was laughing at her from far ahead. The thought was making her angry and even more determined to find out who he was.

  The more she thought about it and looked for alternative ideas, the more it seemed to circle back to the same basic truth. He had to have had access to many people in one place or from one source. It was just that she couldn't find the source.

  Sighing, her fingers flying over the keyboard, glancing at the phones which Connor had brought along so that she could refer to them, Cami tried yet another idea.

  "Function venues in the area. Big ones, who want to keep out unwanted guests and who have the money to invest in software to help them." She muttered the words and then she turned to both the phones to analyze the check-ins yet again and see if both women had attended such a venue in the past few months. This was so time consuming. It seemed like it had been dark outside for hours.

  Her attention was distracted by Connor, speaking on the phone. She’d been so focused on her research that she hadn’t registered it had rung a minute ago.

  "That's interesting," he was saying, "and helpful, for sure. Thank you."

  Cami looked up. Right now, any helpful information was a win. "What was that?" she asked curiously.

  Connor rubbed his shoulders, easing stiffness from them.

  "That was the pathologist. He's completed the second postmortem, and he has some findings," he said.

  "What findings?" Cami asked, feeling encouraged. Hopefully, this could guide them.

  "He's had a look at the knife wounds made in both victims' necks and bodies. It seems that in both cases, the first wound was a stab wound to the chest. That was the killing blow and then the other cuts and slashes were made when the victims were already dead.”

  “What can that first blow tell us?” Cami asked.

  “He says it was accurate and made with a very sharp blade, which would not require a huge amount of force and was not made from a downward angle."

  "What does that mean?" Cami asked, frowning as she considered the logistics.

  "Well, motive wise, it proves to us that the killer was doing more than necessary. This wasn't just a kill. It was almost as if there was a need to destroy or disfigure the bodies afterward. But not the faces. Those were left untouched," Connor remembered.

  "So, that gives us an insight into the mindset?"

  "Yes. And then, from a physical angle, the angle of the blow would indicate a person shorter than the victims, he says. A woman or a shorter man," Connor explained. "Obviously, that's not cast in stone, but this pathologist is very experienced and that's his take-home on what he sees."

  Cami's eyebrows rose. That was very helpful.

  At least they now had parameters. They were looking for a shorter man or a woman, using an extremely sharp blade which might compensate for a lack of physical strength, and revenge or some kind of retribution was part of the motive.

  Of course, they didn't know the reasons why. But at least they knew more than they had before, and that was what mattered.

  Armed with this new information simmering in the back of her mind, Cami started to look at the check-ins again. She worked patiently to narrow down the possibilities and then also checked each of the big venues to see if there was any evidence that they used this software to assist with security or access control.

  "I've got one," she said at last, looking up from her work, blinking in the overhead light, with a crick in her neck.

  "What have you found?" Connor, who'd been reviewing the case files and jotting notes at the other desk in the now empty back office, hurried over.

  "It's a function venue where both women visited recently. You can see from their check-ins. It's in Boston, and it hosts expos, conferences, and other events. It's called Gatherings."

  "So, they both went there recently?"

  "Last month, there was a big fashion expo and both of them attended that. Then, two weeks ago, Rosalind was there again. She was the co-host of a music event that took place. And Antoinette was there two months earlier, modeling for a launch."

  They were both regular visitors, and Cami was certain that the event used facial recognition software because they'd actually mentioned on their website that biometrics could be used as a quick, fast tracked means of access.

  "So, we need to go to Gatherings," Connor said. He quickly checked on his own laptop. "It opens at eight," he confirmed.

  "Eight tonight?" Cami checked the time. It was already after seven p.m.

  "No. Eight tomorrow. It says here they only open at night if they have an evening function, according to the website hours. And in any case, we need to be there during office hours to see how the setup works and who would have access to this software."

  Cami sighed. She didn't want to wait another twelve plus hours. Surely, there was something else they could do. But Connor was shaking his head and closing his laptop.

  "We're done for tonight. This is our next line of investigation, and we'll do better to look at it with fresh minds," he said. "The best thing you can do now is get some rest, so you're fully sharp tomorrow."

  "Can't I carry on working?" she protested.

  But Connor stared at her firmly. "We've got our next step planned. I don't want you burning yourself out. You'll be no good to anyone if you're too exhausted to figure something out when you need to, or even to act when it's needed, like you did today."

  Cami couldn't argue with that. She was mentally tired, she had to admit, and it was clear that this was the only option. "Okay," she said, shutting down her own laptop. "Tomorrow then."

  She packed up her bag and headed out with Connor. They drove back to MIT in silence, with Connor's only words to her, as they pulled up outside the university residence, being, "Don't forget to eat. I need you ready to go tomorrow. I'll pick you up at seven-thirty, and we'll drive straight to Gatherings."

  "Okay," Cami said. Keeping her word as she headed inside, she stopped off at the cafeteria and picked up a chicken sandwich and diet Coke.

  While she was heading upstairs to her room, her phone rang. Juggling her food and her laptop bag, she pulled it out of her jacket pocket and took a look at the caller ID. It was Jacenta, the smart, savvy FBI agent who'd been assigned as Cami's parole officer to offer her guidance and—Cami guessed—keep her on the right path. Cami could visualize her as soon as she saw her name on the caller ID. Dark hair, dark, piercing eyes, and a no-nonsense attitude. And a smile that warmed her whole face, even if she didn’t show it very often.

  "Hope you're well," Jacenta said as soon as Cami picked up. "And hope you're doing okay."

  Jacenta had been very concerned about her after Ethan's death. She'd sent Cami a care package, and her concern and thoughtfulness had touched Cami.

  "I guess I'm doing okay, but it's tough," she admitted, fumbling with the lock on her door and stepping inside.

  "And you’re on another case, now. One you volunteered for, I understand?" There was a note of approval now in Jacenta's voice.

  "Yes, I figured out that the killer had to be using facial recognition software," Cami explained. "We've gotten that far, but no further yet."

  "Well, that's impressive," Jacenta said, her voice warm. "Keep going. You're smart, and if IT’s involved, I’m confident you will figure it out. But don't forget to take care of yourself too. You need your rest, and your health needs to be top priority. Physical and mental, you hear?"

  "I know," Cami said. "I'm back in my room and going to bed soon. I'm just going to have some food first."

  “Nutritious food?”

  “Chicken sandwich and diet Coke.”

  “Guess that’ll do. Nutritious enough in my book.” There was a hint of humor in her tone.

  Speaking to Jacenta, Cami felt a sudden need to tell her about her predicament, the background to Ethan's death, and the complications with Liam, and to get Jacenta's advice on it.

  The problem was that she didn't know how to start. It seemed like an impossible thing to do, and it was risky too.

  But suddenly, as she mulled it over in her mind, she figured out a starting point she could use.

  "Listen, can I share something with you, something confidential?" she blurted out.

  There was a pause.

  "Yes, you can," Jacenta said, but her voice was wary.

  Taking a deep breath, she began to speak, without knowing if she was doing the right or wrong thing or if this would land her in even more trouble.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "What I want to speak to you about—well, it’s about Ethan, and about me, too, I guess," Cami said breathlessly.

  "Go on?" Jacenta's voice was sharp now, and Cami thought she detected a note of uncertainty there.

  "Ethan was trying to investigate something before he was shot," Cami stammered out. "I don't know what it was. I only learned afterward."