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“I’m just a grad student. You’re the professional. You’re the shrink.” She made herself smile, with pity. “And you just did.”

Her head swung hard to one side as he hit her again, then his hands took her throat and tightened. She couldn’t breathe. White lights danced in front of her eyes. Can’t breathe.

His face loomed close, his eyes dark with fury. “You are nothing. I say if you live or die. I hold the power here. You are nothing.”

She held still until the panic overruled and she bucked, trying to throw him off. The pressure on her windpipe increased and the fringes of her vision went dark. It all went dark, and then abruptly he let go.

She gasped, dragging in air.

He sat back, his jaw cocked, his eyes hard. “You are tied to a bed in a place where no one can find you,” he said flatly. “You are mine. I will have your respect.” He leaned close, his thumbs on her windpipe. “Even if I have to kill you to get it.”

Glad he’d made her drink, Eve found moisture in her mouth and spat in his face. His eyes flashed rage and he raised his fist. Then he lowered it and lifted his brows.

“Unwise, Miss Wilson. I hold the power here and I know how to wear you down. I will enjoy wearing you down.” He climbed off her and went to the wooden staircase where he’d hung his trousers. From one of the pockets he drew a syringe and she stiffened. He smiled. “What shall I whisper in your ear this time?”

She didn’t care, because every time he sedated her was time he wasn’t strangling her and time Noah could spend finding her. Still, she didn’t want to look too grateful.

“Please, don’t.” She shrank back. “Don’t drug me again.” Do it. Do it.

He leaned in, jabbed the needle in her neck. “When you wake, I’ll be carving your face like a Halloween jack-o’-lantern. No one will ever look at you again.”

She thought of Martha and Christy as the room began to blur. And Virginia. He’d do it, she knew. And he’d enjoy it. Hurry, Noah. Please.

Disgusted, he grabbed the knife from the table and turned to the stairs, stopping when he saw a slight movement from the huddled form in the corner. He crossed the room and backhanded her, taking pleasure in the whimper she emitted.

“You’re next.” Then he grabbed his pants from the newel post and went upstairs, slamming the door behind him. Broodingly, he sat in his kitchen and looked out the window at the woods surrounding his place. I underestimated her. I let her unnerve me.

She would pay. He pulled his laptop closer, searched, and found a photo a Chicago tabloid had printed after Winters had carved her up. He printed it out and slapped it on the table. He was a man of his word. When he was finished, she’d look like that again.

Immensely cheered, he made himself a sandwich and sat down to watch the news. It was all about Virginia Fox and the Red Dress Killer. There would be a press conference later. He’d have to make sure he tuned in.

For now, he needed to regroup, clear his mind. Out of habit, he started to log in to Shadowland, then stopped. She knew he was Dasich. That meant Webster probably knew, too. They might be watching.

No matter. He’d create a new account, a new profile. It was, after all, the place you went when you wanted no one to know your name. He’d buy a new avatar, go back to the casino, and start anew. He liked the poker table, always had. He’d made a lot of money in back-room poker games over the years, enough to retire young. With his wife gone, he didn’t have to share. Now, what to call his new Shadowland persona?

He thought of the woman in his basement. Iblis, he typed, and smiled. He was certain a woman who named her guardian avatar “Greer” would recognize an ancient form of Lucifer. And just as Lucifer crushed his Eve, I’ll crush mine. As he’d crushed every woman he’d thrown into his pit or hung from a rope.

He thought of Irene, hanging from the tree branch, so long ago. He would have preferred she’d gone undiscovered for days, weeks, however long it took for the vultures to pick her bones clean. Unfortunately John had come home unexpectedly and found her hanging. Like the good son, John had called the sheriff. John had known he’d killed her. But his brother had said nothing. Because he hated her as much as I did.

But that was done. If nothing else, Irene had done him a service. She’d shown him how mind-clearing a good killing could be. And she’d taught him to play poker. So now he’d return to Shadowland and play, just for a few minutes. Just to clear his mind. And then he’d go back down there and… take what’s mine.

Chapter Twenty-four

Thursday, February 25, 1:20 p.m.

So what do you have?” Brian Ramsey asked, setting his briefcase on Abbott’s table.

Abbott had been waiting for them at the table. A very pale Noah sat off to the side, watching the security video from the parking garage on a small TV. He was hunched over, his face inches from the screen, a remote clutched in one hand.

Olivia flinched at the image of Kane dropping to the concrete and Eve’s stunned face. She’d watched that clip ten times, her gut roiling each time Eve was shot, injected, then dragged away. She couldn’t imagine what Noah was going through, but on some level he appeared to be holding up.

“Not much,” Abbott said grimly. “We’re hoping you can be creative. One photo of a shoe next to Eve’s keys. It’s Pierce’s shoe.” He slid the picture across the table to Ramsey. “Someone broke into her house with her keys that night, then returned later.”

Ramsey shook his head. “It could be anybody’s shoe. What else?”

“Two,” Abbott said, “we have a photo from the parking garage security camera.”

“Can’t see his face,” Ramsey remarked blandly. “Or his shoes. Or his height. Next?”

Abbott looked frustrated. Noah hadn’t said a word, his gaze fixed to the small TV. Olivia wanted to gently pull him away, to take the remote from his hand, but she understood the value of doing something.

“Three,” Abbott said, “we have pages from Donner’s datebook. His wife found it with his things. She scanned it into her computer and sent it as an email attachment. Shows six meetings with a C.P. One was for last night, but Donner was already dead by then. Mrs. Donner said her husband was seeing a counselor as part of his cancer treatment. She said she knew he knew Pierce, but thought it was only socially.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Ramsey said. “Where is this date-book now?”

“Locals got it from Mrs. Donner,” Abbott replied. “She’s grieving, but cooperative.”

“So we’re good on chain of evidence. What else?”

“The black BMW,” Abbott continued. “One’s registered to Mrs. Pierce. The plates the garage camera caught were Donner’s, but Donner’s plates are on his car, in his mother’s driveway.”

“The BMW plates are duplicates,” Ramsey said. “Okay, keep going.”

“I don’t have any more,” Abbott gritted out. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I have more,” Olivia said. “A black BMW was used to abduct Liza Barkley this morning.” She explained her phone call with Tom. “Liza’s sister, Lindsay, was last seen getting into a black SUV, registered to Irene Black.”

Ramsey lifted his brows. “So you said before. Who is Irene Black?”

Olivia looked at Abbott, who shrugged. “Tell him,” he said.

Glancing at Noah from the corner of her eye, Olivia did. “Eve found the account the killer used in the game, by following messages sent by Virginia. The name on the account is Irene Black. She couldn’t get an address or financials because she didn’t have the access and the program booted her out.”

Ramsey closed his eyes. “Eve hacked in, didn’t she?”

Noah’s shoulders stiffened, the only indication he was still listening. He’d rewound the video to the beginning and was watching it again. Torturing himself, Olivia thought.

“Yes,” Olivia said to Ramsey, flatly. “When we find her alive you can arrest her.”