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“Of course I do.” And she did.

“He had come from a broken home. His mother . . . Anita’s a good woman, but that bastard she married wasn’t worth the shit that came out of his ass.”

“I’ve known a few like that. It’s not necessarily Anita’s fault.”

“I’m not saying it was.”

He said it hard, sharp, like he resented what Vail had implied. But she wasn’t implying anything.

“I thought that because I got hold of Scott at a young age, I could fix him. Shape him. He had a rough streak that started when his father walked out on them. But I knew Anita before then. She worked at the Sheriff’s Department as a legal clerk. That’s how we met. When we got together, I just thought I could make a difference in Scott’s life.”

“You did. He became a cop. A detective.”

“He was a good kid.”

Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but someone who sets fires and then conspires to kill an FBI agent doesn’t deserve the “good kid” label. Instead, Vail said, “You gave him a lot of love, sheriff. Stuff he needed.”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“Sometimes there’s only so much we can do. We’re wired a certain way as individuals. We may learn, change, adapt, but when pushed—or if the stress gets too great—peer pressure or whatever—we fall back into our old bad habits. Because it’s familiar to us, even comforting.”

Owens sighed, deep, hard, and uneven. “I’m gonna miss him something terrible.” His eyes canted toward the ceiling, filled with syrupy tears. “Is that wrong?”

“Of course not. He was your boy. Just remember the good times. Focus on those.”

Owens tightened his lips, then nodded. He lowered his eyes to hers. “Thank you, Karen.” He rose from his chair. “I hope you find Detective Hernandez. A guy like him, he’s hard to lose. He’s one big motherfucker. I know that firsthand. He sure put me in my place.”

Vail flushed. “Sorry about that.”

“Not at all. I deserved it.” He shrugged. “Anyway, my point is, I doubt anyone could get the drop on him.”

Vail forced a smile. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

Owens held out a hand. “Anything—you need anything to help find him, you just let me know.”

“Thanks. I will.”

Owens pulled open the door. Brix was standing there.

“You need something, Redd?”

Brix’s eyes flicked over to Vail. He seemed to read her expression, then shook his head. “Nope. All’s good.”

5

Vail met Dixon in the break room. She was reclined in a yellow plastic chair, her eyes closed and her mouth open.

Vail gently shoved her foot with a shoe. “Hey. Wake up.”

Dixon rubbed two hands across her face. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.” She pushed herself out of the seat and stretched. “This is gonna suck big time.”

“Yeah. ‘Sorry to wake you, Mrs. Lugo, but your husband’s dead. Oh, and by the way, we think he was working with the serial killer we just caught.’”

Dixon patted Vail on the back. “I think it’d be better if I do the talking when we get there.” They made their way into the stairwell, then down the two flights. “Regardless of what Ray was involved in, we owe it to the badge to do it right, so his wife gets news of his death from us rather than some reporter when the story breaks in the morning.”

As they walked to Dixon’s Ford Crown Victoria, Vail pulled the task force roster from her back pocket and unfolded it. “Can you drive with the light on? I want to enter this stuff into my phone on the way over.”

“Not a bad idea. The light may help keep me awake.”

They arrived at the Lugo home a bit past 2:00 AM. It was a modest but well-maintained two-story stucco in a planned development. A kids’ basketball standard was evident just over the sturdy wood fence.

As they approached the house, bright halogen lights snapped on. “Motion sensors,” Dixon said.

Vail nodded at the eave. “And surveillance cameras. Designed to come on with the lights.”

“Look at the windows,” Dixon said.

White decorative wire “sculptures” covered the glass.

“I don’t think those were installed for their aesthetic value,” Vail said. “If I didn’t know who lived here, I’d say the people who own this house are scared of something.”

“Or someone.”

They stepped up to the front door and stood there, staring at it, both alone with their thoughts. Finally Vail said, “Roxx, we’ve gotta just do it.”

Dixon sighed, then leaned forward and pressed the button beside the door. The deep bark of a large dog started up as if activated by the door-bell. “Ray had security in place, that’s for sure.”

“Goes with what he told us in the van.”

They stood there, waiting, bathed in light with the surveillance camera rolling. Finally, footsteps. A voice spilled out from a speaker. “Who is it and what do you want?”

“It’s Roxxann Dixon and Karen Vail. We’re friends of Ray’s from the major crimes task force.”

“Where’s Ray?” the voice asked.

“Mrs. Lugo, it’d be real good if you could open the door. We have a message from your husband.”

Vail looked at Dixon. They didn’t truly have anything from Ray other than bad news—but by the time they got finished telling her why they were there, Merilynn Lugo wouldn’t be asking what the message was.

“Go ahead. I can hear you just fine.”

Vail heard a child’s voice in the background. It sent a shiver down her back. Shit, I hate this. Absolutely hate this. “Mrs. Lugo,” Vail said, “I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news.”

Dixon looked at her. Vail lifted her hands to say, She left us no choice.

The door swung open. Merilynn Lugo was a thick Hispanic woman with delicate features. Her mouth had fallen agape and her hands drew up to her cheeks as she searched the faces of the two cops. No doubt hoping she had heard wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Dixon said.

And in that moment of realization, Merilynn Lugo burst into tears. That’s when Vail saw the young boy behind his mother, holding on to her leg. Merilynn reached out—her face had lost all color—and Dixon grabbed her, helping her gently to the floor.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” the boy asked. The dog started barking again.

Merilynn pulled her son close. “Mommy’s not feeling too good.” She took a deep breath. “But I’ll—I’ll be okay. You want to go let Bart into the backyard?” She nodded at him and forced a smile. “Go on, Mario.”

When the boy walked out, Merilynn turned back to Vail. Tears streamed down her face. “How,” she finally asked. “How did it happen?”

Vail sat on the floor beside Merilynn. “A gunshot wound,” Vail said. “We’d captured a serial killer the task force was after. We think it was the guy who kidnapped you and Mario—”

“You—you caught him?”

Vail regarded Merilynn’s face before answering. “We did. And Ray . . . Ray was a big part of that. But while I was interrogating the suspect, Ray . . . Ray came into the room and shot him. One of the rounds ricocheted and hit Ray in the neck. We tried to save him. We rushed him to the hospital, but . . . ” Vail stole a look at Dixon. “He asked that we make sure to look out for you and your son.”

Merilynn swiped a hand across her wet cheeks, balled up her night-gown and used it to blot the tears. Vail and Dixon waited, Vail keeping a hand on Merilynn’s shoulder to support her.

“Ray told us about what happened. With the kidnapping—”

“Is he still alive?” Merilynn asked. “Did the bastard die?”