“We’re staying with some friends of Derrick’s . . . but I don’t like it there,” she whispered. “The people aren’t fun anymore.”

Ava burned with the need to shake some common sense into her sister. Fun. Her sister’s world revolved around the pursuit of fun at the cost of everyone around her.

Just get her away from that man.

“I just wish it could go back to the way it was,” her twin begged. “I don’t like living with these people.”

“Go back to when, Jayne?” Ava asked, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“To when I was happy.”

“When were you happy?”

“Oh, you know. When we were in school, and all we had to worry about was what we’d wear the next day.”

Ava was silent. Back then Ava had worried about homework, her part-time job, and pulling her weight, since their mother was a single mom. Worrying about what to wear meant avoiding the exact same outfit as her sister. Apparently Jayne remembered those days differently. Their mother had dressed them alike until they were five, when Ava had started asserting that she no longer wanted to look the same as Jayne.

As a child, had she known that she needed to separate herself from her twin?

“I can’t help you,” Ava said quietly. “Call me when you’re serious about changing your life. That means no man, no drugs, and rehab. Again.”

Jayne started crying. “But what about Derrick? How do I protect him?”

“Tell him to turn himself in. He’ll be safe from the Bridge Killer in jail.”

“You don’t under—”

“Good-bye, Jayne.” Ava ended the call and turned off the ringer. She wiped her eyes and tucked her phone in her purse. She sat in her car, taking deep breaths and waiting for her heartbeat to slow down.

I won’t second-guess my decision.

The color had been sucked out of her day. When she ended the call, the world inside her car had abruptly gone quiet and gray from the rain. The plinking tones on her roof were sounds of loneliness.

No. They’re sounds of peace.

When Jayne burst into Ava’s world, either in person or by phone, everything lit up and zinged with crazy energy. The void left by her absence was one of peace and quiet.

Not loneliness.

She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined the water was the sound of an ocean. Her first therapist had taught her to view the quiet of Jayne’s absence as healthy tranquility.

It was all about perspective. The change she felt each time Jayne stepped away was a good change.

Then why does it hurt so bad?

15

Mason stared at the blood-drenched carpet in Joe Upton’s home and wondered why the killer had changed his tactics, leaving a clear view of his killing ground. Their third victim now had a name. Joe Upton’s boss had knocked on his front door when Joe didn’t show up for work at the lumberyard. He’d glanced through a front window, let himself in, walked through the murder scene, and then called the police.

Joe Upton lived out in the boondocks. Grandview, Washington, was in the middle of nowhere, about halfway between Kennewick and Yakima. A logical route would take a person to the Bridge of the Gods in about two hours during a drive toward Portland. The house was a small ranch-style home on a five-acre lot. County records had revealed the home belonged to Joe Upton’s parents, who currently lived in Arizona.

Mason had shared a ride with Zander and Ava, leaving Ray back in Portland. It’d taken over three hours to reach the small town, stretching out a long day that’d begun at the medical examiner’s. They’d been met by Grandview’s chief of police, who’d made the connection between the unidentified murder in the Columbia Gorge and the bloodstains in the Upton home.

“I’d heard about the murders on the bridges,” the chief had said when he’d called the FBI. “Most folks in town don’t pay much attention to what’s going on outside of Grandview. But when I realized someone had lost a lot of blood in Joe’s home, and he was missing, I checked online, and, sure enough, the latest description fit.”

The chief was about Mason’s age, with a sharp eye and a direct glare that must have made the teenagers in Grandview turn down their car stereos when he looked their way. The chief listened as Mason, Ava, and Zander questioned Joe’s boss, Samuel, who sat on the bumper of Zander’s sedan in his stockinged feet.

“I tried to call Joe three times yesterday. I kept getting his voicemail,” said Samuel, who reminded Mason of a stocky Kevin Costner with a lot less hair. “When he didn’t show up for work again today, I decided to drive out. I got a little worried when I saw his truck was in the driveway. He’s a big guy. I was half expecting to find him dead from a heart attack.”

“Joe worked for you full time?” Ava asked.

“Nah, only three days a week. He works construction the other days when they have work for him. He does framing and drywall for the Carter outfit, but that’s mainly during the summer. Right now it’s slow all around.”

“He have any enemies that you’re aware of? He get in any fights with anyone?” Mason asked.

“Who, Joe? Are you kidding me? He’s a big teddy bear.”

The police chief nodded at Samuel’s statement. “Joe’s a big guy, but his heart is bigger. He’d give you the shirt off his back.”

Mason exchanged a glance with Ava and Zander. So why murder this guy? At least Carson Scott and Aaron King had given reasons for people not to like them.