“Is anything missing?” Byers patiently asked.

Jamie surveyed the room. “I don’t think so. Nothing of value in here. Unless he likes Mauviel.”

Simultaneously, Michael snorted and Byers asked, “Likes what?”

“Cookware.” Michael pointed at the shiny copper pans strewn on the floor. “Spendy.”

Byers raised a brow at him.

“My mother likes it,” Michael explained.

A five-minute walk-though of the house turned up nothing missing. But someone had been thorough. Every drawer was pulled out and overturned. Closets emptied. Byers’s partner silently snapped digital shots. Jamie discovered her jewelry intact and her electronics untouched. The tenseness left Jamie’s shoulders, but she paced the kitchen, unable to relax. Nervous energy bleeding out her pores.

“They dug through everything,” Michael said. “How long were you gone?”

“About twenty minutes. I usually run for an hour, but my leg was bugging me.”

“You run every day?”

“Most days.”

“Same time of day?”

“Always at seven.”

Michael exchanged a look with the cops. “Someone knew your schedule. He thought he knew exactly how long he had. You must have surprised him before he could take off with anything.”

Jamie shook her head. “He wasn’t looking for valuables. He was looking for Chris.”

Electric shocks shot through Michael’s nerves. “What?”

The uniform taking notes said, “He kept asking where her brother was.”

Michael clutched at Jamie’s arm, whirling her to face him. “He wanted Chris? He said that?”

She nodded. “He said Chris would remember his cigarette burns. He’s the one, Michael, he’s the one who hurt Chris. He must be the one who killed all those children…and your brother.”

Daniel. Michael eased his grip on her arm and rubbed at it in apology. His mind felt ready to explode. The man who killed Daniel is still here. I will find him.

“Sorry, princess.” He turned to Byers. “You’ve got to contact Detective Callahan in OSP’s Major Crimes.”

The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Major Crimes? Why? We’ve called out one of our robbery and assault detectives.”

Michael shook his head. “You’ve got to contact Callahan. This is related to a murder case he’s caught.”

Byers glanced at Jamie for confirmation. She nodded, still silent. “What the hell?” Byers asked. “Everyone out. Out of the house now.” He stepped closer to Michael. “You better know what you’re talking about. Why the fuck didn’t the two of you say something to start with?” His glare included Jamie.

Michael’s hackles rose. “Because I didn’t know till she mentioned her brother, and she was in too much shock from fighting for her goddamned life.” He challenged Byers’s stare.

“I’m sorry—” Jamie started.

“Not your fault. Not your fault at all.” He rubbed his hands over her shoulders. “Did you get a look at him?”

She nodded and then started to shiver.

“Christ. Let’s get out in the sun. You got a coat you can grab?”

“Don’t take anything out of the house yet,” Byers interjected. “I’ve got a Mylar blanket in the car she can use.”

Jamie’s teeth started to chatter.

“Jesus,” said Michael. “Outside. Now.”

She couldn’t get warm. She was wrapped in two Mylar blankets and in full sun, lying flat on her back in the middle of her front yard. Michael had wedged a backpack from his truck under her feet and knelt by her head, rubbing at her hands.

“Just a little shock, princess. You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”

“Why do you keep calling me princess? And make them go away.” Her teeth still chattered as she glared at the circle of uniforms staring down at her. Wasn’t she conspicuous enough? What were her neighbors thinking?

“Back off,” Michael directed. The cops obeyed. “Princess popped in my head the first time I saw you. Actually, I thought you looked like a queen. Something about the way you carry yourself. You’ve got a regal bearing. Not snooty or stuck-up. Just…calm, kind, and self-confident.”

Regal? “I’d call it my principal posture. Makes the kids listen to me.” Her damned body wouldn’t stop shivering. “I can’t get warm.”

Michael leaned closer, green eyes concerned.

Jamie blew out a long breath, closed her eyes, and concentrated on making her muscles relax. The shivering dropped to short spurts, down from continuous attacks.

“That’s better,” he said softly. “Do you think you can talk now?”

She opened her eyes. The concern in his gaze touched her deep in her chest. She nodded. “Sit me up.”

He shook his head. “Not yet.” He gestured for Byers to come back.

“How much description of the guy did she give you already?”

Byers consulted his flip notebook. “Caucasian male, probably six foot one or six foot two, medium build, late forties or early fifties, sandy-blond hair, blue eyes, navy light running pants, long-sleeved white T-shirt, tattoos on backs of both wrists.”

Jamie nodded in agreement. “I think the tattoos went up his sleeves. Like they covered his arms. I could see faint patterns through the material of his shirt.”