“Is it trick-or-treat already? Did someone drop a bomb? What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

“Can we come in?” Christina said.

He backed away from the door, running his fingers through his hair. “Sure, why not? You guys do know it’s late, right?”

“Dan,” Christina said, leading the way in, “Angie is missing.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment, then said, “Angie is…missing?”

“Yes.”

Dan looked genuinely shocked and confused, Jed thought. And why not? He was an actor.

Still sounding at sea, Dan asked, “Didn’t she divorce Mike a long time ago? Drag him through an emotional wringer and hang him out to dry?”

“That’s the point, Dan,” Jed said.

Dan looked more confused than ever. “I should be concerned because the woman is a total bitch who did her best to destroy my brother?”

“Yes, a totally bitchy redhead who’s missing!” Ana exploded.

“Dan,” Adam Harrison explained quietly, “the police have probably questioned your brother about her disappearance already. She was supposed to meet friends for dinner the other night, but she didn’t show up. The friends called the police, and since she’s an attractive redhead, the police are taking her disappearance seriously.”

Dan’s jaw dropped, as if he’d suddenly figured out the reality of the situation. “Omigod!” he said in one breath. “I’ll call Mike right now.”

He went to get the phone, and Christina stared at Jed. She looked disdainful, but he realized as she turned away that she was going to search Dan’s house.

“Mike?” Dan, who either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care what Christina was up to, said anxiously into the phone.

While Mike was talking on the other end, Jed’s cell phone began to ring. He knew it was going to be Jerry Dwyer, and it gave him no satisfaction to be right.

“Can you meet me?” Dwyer asked.

“Yes, sure. Where?”

“Where else?” Jerry demanded dryly. “O’Reilly’s.”

“I’ll need a little time.”

“Just be as quick as you can. I’m wondering how much more time she’s got,” Jerry said morosely.

Christina sat next to Dan on his couch, her fingers entwined with his. Ana was on his other side. Everyone else was dispersed around the room, and everything seemed fine.

Meanwhile, Jed had taken off without a word about where he was going. She had a feeling it had something to do with Angie’s disappearance, though, and she was furious with him for not sharing whatever he knew, or even what he thought he knew.

Not to mention that he didn’t believe in ghosts and clearly thought she was nuts because she did. And on top of everything…

How dare he suspect her cousin of being the killer? Just to satisfy his curiosity, she’d searched Dan’s place, and she’d found nothing to indicate that he could possibly be holding anyone captive.

Just then the doorbell rang, and Dan went to answer before sitting back down next to her.

It was Mike. He paced the room, trying to remember every word he had said to Angie, every word she had said to him, in hopes of remembering something that might help the police. Then he threw up his hands. “I can’t think of anything at all, damn it.”

“Are you sure she’s not doing this herself as some kind of a publicity stunt?” Dan asked. “God knows, she’s ambitious enough to try damn near anything,” he argued.

Mike let out a long sigh. “You want to know the really sad thing?” he asked.

“What?” Christina asked him.

“I should be worried about being questioned by the police, about being a suspect. But you know what gets me the most?” His words were almost a whisper.

“What?” Adam said.

“I’m half insane because I’m worried about her. Is that pathetic or what?”

“Actually, it’s just human,” Adam told him. “So don’t give up hope. They may find her yet.”

“I don’t know. You think we made a mistake, putting her name and picture out there?” Jerry asked Jed. “Think the killer will panic and kill her? I mean…sooner than he would, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Jed told him.

“I questioned Michael McDuff. I wanted to tell you, since I know you know the family,” Jerry said, motioning to the woman behind the bar. “Another Scotch, neat, please,” he said, then looked at Jed and scowled slightly. “I’m off duty.”

“Did I say anything?”

“Yeah, well, you were a by-the-book kind of guy, but I’m almost as legit,” Jerry told him.

“I just came from Daniel McDuff’s place,” Jed said.

“Figured it might have been something like that. Word has it you’ve been seeing a redhead yourself—Christina Hardy. Come to think of it, you’re connected to Christina Hardy, who’s connected to several of the victims, and Katherine Kidd. You’re starting to look pretty interesting yourself.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Jerry shrugged and grinned. “Hell, I can’t get a decent date, and there you go…seeing two gorgeous redheads.”

“I’m not seeing Katherine Kidd. I’m working for her.”

“She’s paying you?”

“I’m working for her because I feel like a piece of crap where her brother is concerned. Jerry, you know that, so why the third degree?”

“Exasperation, frustration,” Jerry admitted.

Mal O’Donnell came in and took the bar stool to Jed’s left. “Black and tan, sweetheart, thanks,” he said to the bartender.

When the woman had moved away, O’Donnell stared at Jed. “You’re on to something.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I wish I was,” Jed said tensely.

“Want to know what I think?” O’Donnell asked.

“Clue me in,” Jed told him, taking a long swallow of his own beer.

“Beau Kidd did kill the first set of girls,” Mal said.

“I think you’re wrong.”

“No. This is a copycat. Beau killed the first girls. Then he was shot, and the killings ended,” Mal said.

“They ended because Beau made a good scapegoat, and because you’ve got a damned smart perp, one who moved on to other places to feed his sick fantasy,” Jed told him.

“How come you’re so sure?” Jerry asked him.

“Because he’s got a thing for the guy’s sister,” Mal said, nodding knowingly.

Jed shook his head. “I really don’t think Beau did it.”

“You helped with one thing, anyway,” Jerry said to Jed.

“Yeah?”

“We reinterviewed everyone in hell today, and you were right about one thing,” Jerry told him.

“And that was?”

“This place.” Jerry lowered his voice. “Each victim—then and now—frequented O’Reilly’s.”

“So you’ve interviewed everyone who works here, then?” Jed said.

“Of course.”

“And?”

Jerry shrugged.

“Whoever’s taking the women has seen them here, then followed them from here at some point to figure out the pattern of their movements,” Jed murmured.

Jerry leaned closer to Jed. “Angela McDuff was last seen leaving the Straight-N-Hair-O Salon, right across the parking lot over there.”

Jed looked out the large plate-glass window. The parking lot was huge. There were plenty of lights, but also plenty of areas in deep shadow.

Jerry pointed. “Her car was found right over there. She left the salon with a big smile on her face. And then she was gone. No one saw anything.”

“There must have been a fair amount of people in the mall and in the parking lot,” Jed mused aloud, studying the layout.

“Maybe,” Mal said. “But no one saw anything. She disappeared, and it had to be with someone she either trusted or knew, because she didn’t scream or someone would have noticed. She knew there was a serial killer out there targeting women just like her, and she still got into a car and didn’t even scream.”

“What the hell does that give you that we haven’t had from the beginning?” Jed demanded. “The women are being taken by someone they trust.”

“Or someone they know,” Jerry added.

“Either way, someone they see as nonthreatening,” Jed said.

What the hell was his own reasoning? Jed asked himself. Adam Harrison claimed—based on the appearance of a ghost, for God’s sake—that the killer had been in Christina’s house. The first night…the night of the Ouija board. And at the séance, too? That meant Mike, Dan or Tony Lowell. Or himself. Or one of the women.

“What am I doing here tonight? Why did you call me out?” he asked the two cops.

“Fair warning,” Mal O’Donnell told him gravely. “We feel we have a real suspect.”

“Mike McDuff,” Jerry said.

“You interviewed him tonight, right?” Jed inquired.

“I chatted with him at his home,” Jerry admitted.

“Why didn’t you just drag him in?”

“Because his ex-wife is out there somewhere. Hopefully, at this moment, still alive. We’re going to be watching him. So if you know anything…”

Jed swore with disgust and slid off his bar stool. “You really think I wouldn’t tell you if I knew who a killer was?”

“Good night, Jed,” Jerry said.

“Yeah. Good night.” Assholes! he added silently as he left.

And yet…hadn’t he been thinking in nearly the same direction? And he hadn’t said a word.

And as for Beau Kidd…Did he just want the man to be proven innocent simply because the family deserved some peace?