Mason’s mouth dried up as he watched Ava collapse as if her bones had suddenly dissolved. Watching someone hit her . . .

“Can you freeze it on the frame of the second guy as he comes in the door?” Mason asked. The outdoor light had been the best, briefly showing the man’s face under his cap. The detective backed up the video, and Mason watched Ava return to standing from her collapsed position on the floor. The detective stopped the feed.

Mason stepped forward, looking closely. The image was too grainy for him to make out any features. The store system must have been installed in the eighties or nineties and still used actual videotapes for surveillance. No doubt the tape they were watching had been recorded on over and over. “Back up a few frames,” Mason requested.

The man on the screen took a step backward out the door and looked to the side, giving the viewers a grainy view of his profile.

“Stop.” His heartbeat thumping in his ears, Mason stared at the screen, wondering if he was seeing things. He glanced at Ray and Zander. “Look familiar?”

Zander appeared ill. “He’s the guy from the Fremont Bridge video.” He turned and shoved his way out of the room.

“The one hanging over the edge,” Ray whispered.

Hello, Bridge Killer.

Mason couldn’t breathe as his anxiety for Ava shot off the charts.

Troy pounded the pavement. He’d done it. Colleen was safe.

He’d been given a second chance. He’d been standing in the right place at the right time and all his good karma had suddenly been redeemed. His original plan to seek redemption for his part in Colleen’s death had been the right one. Today had proved that.

Why else would Colleen be brought back for him to save? For decades he’d wished he could go back in time. Someone had listened.

But he still had one last loose end to tie up. Rick needed to be punished for his role. They all had to make the sacrifice for what they’d done. Rick wouldn’t be allowed to escape.

He’d carried Colleen to his van in the alley and spirited her back to his home. He’d hated to lock her up in that room, but she was still unconscious and he knew she’d be safe. With Rick still on the street, Troy wasn’t taking any chances.

Why were there two Colleens?

He put the thought out of his mind—one had to be a fake. He’d seen the fake Colleen go screaming after Rick toward the back of the room, and when he’d looked at the other woman standing in front of him, her face had been illuminated like an angel’s. As if a giant spotlight were shining on her, highlighting her as his reward. Colleen smiled at him, and he’d heard her low voice in his head, asking if he was all right. But then something on his face had scared her. She must have remembered he’d been present when she died the first time.

Punching her had hurt him as much as her. But it’d stopped her a split second before she would have run off. He couldn’t let her get away. He had to protect her, show her all he’d done for her. It was important that she know he hadn’t abandoned her as the others had done. He’d put a lot of effort into making everything right. Just for her.

Would saving her save him? Could she reverse the murderous mass in his brain?

No. That is your punishment.

Everyone had his own price to pay. He wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to ask for his sentence to be lightened. He scanned the neighborhood. Somewhere close by, Rick was hiding. He could feel it.

In the past he’d spied on the real Colleen for three days before he got up the nerve to speak to her beyond “More potatoes, please.” Colleen was the dream girl who worked in the kitchen and had all the guys drooling. She was rumored to be twenty-two. A woman to a seventeen-year-old like him, but not so much older that she was unattainable.

“I heard she slept with three different guys from the camp last year,” whispered Rick when he caught Troy staring a little too long at the spot of gravy Colleen had spilled on her T-shirt. “She doesn’t mind doing it with younger guys as long as the equipment is right.”

“Bullshit,” Troy muttered, looking away from the expanse of fresh skin below her neck. Rick was making shit up. He always did. Now that he’d caught Troy ogling her chest, he’d never let up.

“Swear to God,” said Rick solemnly. “I don’t joke around about getting laid.”

No, you just lie through your teeth.

Rick’s front teeth severely overlapped and it looked like he simply had one huge tooth in front. It stuck out between his lips even when his mouth was closed. Troy found it rather disturbing, and he imagined girls did, too. Rick claimed he was getting braces that summer, but most kids Troy knew had had braces on in middle school. He figured Rick was the type who simply lied about most things. Especially the things he believed made him look better.

“She goes and swims at the river after dinner most evenings. I’ve seen it. She has this tiny bikini that I swear will pop off if she turns too fast,” Rick said next to Troy’s ear.

Troy stole a look at Colleen’s chest. Not huge, but the shape was sweet. What would she look like with her shirt off? “At the river?” Is Rick lying again?

“On Monday I was avoiding Old Man Thornton’s stupid physics lecture and saw her heading off through the woods. I followed. And man, it was worth it.”

Rick made a slurping sound that made Troy gag.

“On Tuesday she did the same thing. She swims and then lies in the sun and reads for a while. No one else goes with her. You should come with me tonight.”