"I'm sorry," she said. "I have to take this. I'll go outside."

  “No problem,” Connor said in exactly the right, slightly annoyed, tone.

  "Hello?" Cami said into the silent phone, rushing for the door and hoping Connor would delay Sandra long enough for her to be able to get what she needed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  There was nobody else in the corridor. That was a plus, Cami thought, as she walked down it while speaking into the phone, just so that the sound of her voice faded out of earshot convincingly.

  Then, before she reached the stairway, she doubled back, treading softly, heading straight for the IT manager's open and empty office.

  She'd need to be careful here, she knew. Sandra Keyes was the head of IT, and she would have security systems in place. Hopefully, nothing that sounded a direct alarm to her own personal phone, which Cami had seen she had on her.

  This could land her in trouble. It was insane, but Connor had condoned it. Well, sort of, at least. He'd definitely been on board with it.

  Cami hoped that she wouldn't have too much difficulty getting into the system. A lot depended on whether Sandra had bothered to set up stringent security on her own machine during office hours. But even so, as she slipped into the chair, breathing in the trace of this woman's lemony perfume, she felt her heart speed up with tension.

  She had maybe ten minutes. She didn't think this brisk woman would have limitless patience in a police interview.

  Cami took a deep breath and told herself to focus. She had to get into the system, find the records, see who had accessed them, and get out before Sandra Keyes opened the door of the room opposite.

  Nothing like pressure, she reminded herself, her lips tight as she tapped the keyboard. The data files were locked, so she needed to find a way in.

  Quickly, accessing a program she'd written online, she allowed it to run. This program could brute force its way into most passwords within a minute or two, but it had come short when tested against highly complex passwords.

  So, to avoid that causing problems, she should probably run a simultaneous program that might be able to get in the back end of the machine through a stealthier route by bypassing the main access and coming in via a side pathway that tricked the machine into thinking it was open and allowing access to files. She'd been pleased with its performance so far. When testing it, it had gotten her where she needed to be about sixty percent of the time.

  Glancing again at the opposite door, Cami listened out for the sound of footsteps. If anyone came down the corridor, she was going to duck under the desk until they passed. If they came into the office, she didn't know what she'd do.

  For now, though, the coast was clear. She focused on the screen and sent out the program to look for a back door into the system and willed all her software to work without any delays.

  Then she heard what she'd dreaded the most. Heavy, quick footsteps approaching down the corridor.

  Cami nearly swallowed her heart as she dove under the desk, realizing how risky and how illegal this was, and how much trouble she'd be in if she was actually discovered, cowering under the desk of the woman that they were interviewing.

  She felt sick inside as the footsteps slowed as they reached the door and then stopped.

  "Sandra?" a man's voice said. "You there?"

  Another step into the office. He was looking for her, and Cami now prayed that if she wasn't there, he wouldn't start looking for whatever he needed on his own. If he did, if he moved one more step, he'd come within sight of her, and she'd be found.

  Cami held her breath, reciting fervent pleas in her mind for him to turn away and go, realizing that her heart was now pounding at double the speed.

  Then, after what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps retreated and continued down the corridor. She stayed where she was for another few seconds, nails digging into her palms, sweat prickling her forehead, every fiber of her being listening for the sound of him coming back.

  But it looked like he wasn't.

  As quietly as she could, shaking like a leaf, she clambered out from under the desk and scooted back into the chair, the slightest noise now making her flinch.

  But her program had worked—the back door one. She was in the system and could navigate it.

  Knowing that speed was of the essence, Cami made the fastest moves in the shortest time. She took a high-capacity USB drive out of her pocket and began copying everything she could from those data files onto it. That way if she had to make a hasty retreat, she'd have something.

  In the meantime, though, she could look at what was there and how it was set up.

  The facial recognition program had been heavily used since its installation just a few months ago, and Cami could see that there were dozens of entries in the logs. They also had the facial features of known trouble causers and non-payers on record. She guessed those were highly confidential and the reason Sandra hadn’t wanted the police looking.

  After a few more minutes of searching, she had a list of the names of the people who had accessed the system.

  But here, Cami saw, this lead was going nowhere. Each set of data was compartmentalized and secured, and it hadn't been logged into or accessed since it was put on file by anyone except Sandra herself. Individual events had been accessed by one or two different people in the past, but not the ones where either of the victims had attended. Older records had been accessed by the software developer, presumably for checking, and by a couple of other people, but not in the past few weeks, and Rosalind had only gone to the venue in the past few weeks.

  Perhaps the software was working so well in real time that nobody had needed to access the information subsequently.

  That meant Sandra was the only suspect in this company, and Connor was even now checking Sandra's alibi across the corridor. She was sure Connor would do a very thorough check since the IT manager had been so unwilling to give out the information.

  What else could Cami see while she was here?

  She could see who this software belonged to, and who'd originally written it. Knowing the originator might help them. Quickly going into that folder, Cami took a look.

  The software was written by a company called Wave Management, located within Boston.

  Cami was impressed by them. They'd written a damned good program here, and she was confident that it worked as advertised. So, perhaps they had sold the same program to other people within the Boston area, and this would be another way of trying to catch this killer.

  In fact, the perpetrator could even be linked to Wave Management. It was worth following up on that too. Especially since she saw, in the terms and conditions, that since it was still in the third and final testing phase, all faces captured on camera had to be shared with the originating company, anonymously, so that they could continue to perfect the coding.

  Now that was very interesting. In fact, Cami realized, it was a breakthrough.

  Wave Management was the company that would have the biggest pool of faces in their own archives because their Ts and Cs in this development stage allowed them to extract the faces from all their clients’ records to perfect their coding and comparisons.

  So, Wave Management was now a place of interest.

  She captured their details and then quickly took the USB out of the machine and made sure all her tracks were covered.

  On shaking legs, she got up, realizing she was only just in time, because Connor's voice was getting louder, and she knew this was a warning to her that the meeting was over, and he was approaching the door. If her time hadn't been up earlier, it was up now.

  Cami had to act quickly as she slipped out of the office and back down the corridor, her heart beating a million miles an hour.

  She waited by the stairs, pretending to be sending a message on her phone, and then started walking back in the direction of the office just as the door opened.

  Connor powered out, looking stressed. Cami wasn't prepared for the bombshell he unleashed.

  "There's just been another murder called in," he muttered to her. "We need to get to Crown Hill, near the town center, fast."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sammi Jackson pulled into her home street in Crown Hill, accelerating to over the limit with a smile. She saw the guy who lived on the corner glower at her sleek, silver Audi as it sped past, putting a protective hand on his dog’s collar and calling his son inside. She didn't care. He was probably just jealous of her, although he claimed it was because of all the kids and animals in the area that she should slow down.

  She had good wheels, and she was going to flaunt them because they were hers.

  Her mother had always said she should get a qualification and a degree, but Sammi hadn't been motivated to go that way in life. She'd wanted to use her looks, which her mother seemed to think should be kept under wraps as if they were something to be ashamed of. How ridiculous was that? Looks were there to be used.

  She had started out by making a name for herself as a singer, using her voice to get a toe hold in the industry, a step onto the first rung of the fame she craved. However, the modeling and PR jobs that were flooding in were really more about her dark, sultry appearance, her huge, blue eyes, and her slender yet shapely build. The media articles she'd read were lauding her looks and her beauty. It always gave her a thrill of pleasure to read them.

  "Well, I'm blessed that way," she said with satisfaction. "I've always been a go-getter. I was the most popular girl at school, and it has been plain sailing since."

  She brushed aside the real truth which was that she'd been a terrible bully at school. However, she told herself that what she'd been doing was asserting herself. If people were weak and cowardly and couldn't stand up to her, they deserved what they got.

  That had been her attitude ever since. She knew she'd trod on a lot of toes in her quest for fame, but she didn't care. And her parents must keep out of her sleek, dark hair and stop trying to micromanage her life and her thoughts.

  At that moment, her phone rang.

  It was her mother, and Sammi rolled her eyes. Should she even pick up?

  She guessed she could, quickly. After all, she was almost home.

  "Hey, Sammi," her mom said, her soft, hesitant voice already causing a flash of irritation in Sammi's mind.

  "Hey, Mom," she said. "Listen, you need to make it quick. I'm just getting home."

  "You must be careful," her mother pleaded. "I've seen on the news that they're targeting women like you. The police said you must be very cautious when entering and leaving your house."

  Sammi sighed. Really, like she needed this ongoing drip-drip of negativity in her life.

  "There's nobody like me," she said, turning the idiotic negativity into a joke.

  "Sammi, I'm warning you. This killer is operating in the Boston area, and he's targeting women who have your looks. The police have put out a special cautionary bulletin. You do need to be careful. Perhaps you should come and stay here for a few nights?"

  Sammi snorted. "Mom, I'm fine. I'm sure the police know what they're doing. I'm sure they'll catch him soon. I'm not going to hide in my room just because some psycho is on the loose. I'm going to do my thing and live my life. I'm going to let nobody stop me." Not even you, she thought.

  "I really think it's a worry, Sammi."

  Sammi couldn't believe it. Her mother was trying to keep her on a leash, and it had been getting worse since she'd moved out three years ago.

  "Mom," she said firmly, "I'm a grown woman, and I know how to take care of myself. You need to trust that I can handle everything on my own. I'm perfectly safe here. I'm not going anywhere."

  Her mom sighed, and Sammi could hear the worry in her voice. "Alright," she said. "But at least stay in tonight. Make sure the door’s locked. And keep your phone on you at all times."

  Sammi hung up the phone, determined to put the whole thing out of her mind. She knew her mom was just worried about her, but she didn't need that kind of negativity.

  It wasn’t like she didn’t know how to be vigilant. She was in a big city, and there was always the chance of danger, but that didn't mean she had to give up the life she wanted to live.

  Sweeping into the driveway, she cast a disparaging glance at the neighbor's home with its untidy fence and unmowed front yard. They’d been struggling financially, she remembered. The husband had lost his job and not gotten another one yet, so they’d had to let their gardener go.

  If you couldn't afford to live here, then you should get out. That was her view, although she knew it was harsh. It had been her father who always emphasized that it was a dog-eat-dog world and that the strong were the ones who got ahead in it.

  Sammi had always been more inclined to listen to her father than she had to her nagging mother with her insistence on having a career she could fall back on and her random warnings about danger.

  Fall back on? She intended to capitalize on her seriously amazing looks for as long as she could, and by then, she'd be wealthy enough not to care. She'd made a good start, and the money was rolling in.

  Turning into her driveway, she glanced in approval at the neat front yard of her own home, a home she was proud to have purchased from the proceeds of her career. And it was in a safe neighborhood, much safer than the apartment where her folks lived.

  Sammi was not about to let anyone take that away from her. She wasn't about to let any crazy killer ruin her plans. She was stronger than that.

  With a smile, she flicked off the ignition and stepped out of the car. It was time for her to go inside and enjoy her sanctuary.

  Walking to the front door, she saw that one of the garden services people was hard at work, crouched over the hedges that lined the front path, wearing that green canvas jacket, as per usual. Good. She liked a neat yard. And she liked people staying out of her hair. The gardener didn't even look up as she swished by. That was the way she wanted it.

  She could hear the snip-snip of the shears as she strode up to the front door and unlocked it.

  It was only then that Sammi realized, with a frown, that the garden services weren't usually here today. This wasn't one of their days. Why were they not caring for her yard at the right times?

  Turning around with a slight frown, she decided to check this. She didn't want anything extra on her bill, if that was what they were trying to sneak by her.

  The gardener stood up, and Sammi cleared her throat. She couldn't see if it was a man or a woman under those shapeless overalls and large hat with a wide brim that totally obscured this person's face.

  "Listen," she began, hearing the arrogant tone in her own voice but not caring, "listen, you weren't supposed to come today."

  And then her words tapered off into a shrill, terrified squawk as the gardener lunged for her. One minute, this individual had been all apologetic, with a bowed head and body language seeming like the ground should swallow them up.

  And the next, the shears clattered to the pathway, and the predatory intent was all too obvious as the gardener lunged toward her.

  "No!" Sammi shrieked, flinging out a hand in self-defense, but it was too late.

  The realization of what had happened hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt a wave of terror wash over her.

  She had been so confident. She had been so sure that she was safe. But it was too late now.

  A flashing blade buried itself in her chest, and she took a breath to scream again, but the breath didn't come, and the world was darkening around her.

  As her vision faded, her last thought was that her mother had been right. She should have listened to her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Another murder. The horrific reality of it chilled Cami as she climbed into the car next to Connor, ready to speed to the scene.

  "Now?" she asked.

  "Yes," he replied, his voice hard. "She was on the way home from a gym session, I understand. The killer got her just outside her front door."

  "In broad daylight?"

  "Seems so. She was seen, collapsed outside the door, by a passerby, who called in the crime. A man walking his dog."

  Cami steeled herself for what she would see, knowing that she would be arriving at an active murder scene in just a few short minutes, especially given that Connor had his lights and siren on and was speeding through the streets.

  What would she find there? Were there going to be any clues to discover?

  The thought of another dead woman, and the killer still out there somewhere, made her stomach twist in dread.

  But in the meantime, she could, at least, look up the information she'd taken from the workplace they'd just visited. Gatherings had stored the facial recognition software, and Cami had downloaded as much of it as she could, and now she could see if Sammi Jackson was anywhere on it.

  As Connor drove, Cami checked, plugging the USB into her laptop, balanced on her knees for the seesaw ride, and stabbing at keys while the car sped and veered.

  "I'm not getting anything recent on her from this venue," Cami said. "Based on what I’ve downloaded and what I’ve been able to see of Sammi’s check-ins on her social media, it doesn't look like she was there in the past ninety days. That's all I had time to copy."

  "We're going to rule it out in that case," Connor decided. "We need to look for other sources. We need to pursue new theories. We can't go too far back in the past. Not with three recent murders."

  This confirmed to her that the venue itself could not be the common factor.

  But perhaps the software still was, Cami thought. That software truly was excellent. What she'd seen of it so far was impressive. The coding was top notch, and looking at its stats, she saw that the ability to pinpoint faces boasted one of the highest percentage rates she'd yet seen. She was sure that Sammi’s face would be stored on their main database, thanks to those Ts and Cs that demanded it.

  And then, to her dismay, it was time for her to tear herself away from this because they'd arrived at the scene.