“Hooker?”

“No. This one walked the straight and narrow as far as I can tell.”

Something odd in Ray’s voice put Mason on high alert. “What?”

Ray reviewed his notes and cleared his throat. “Katy Darby. Reported missing fifteen years ago at age twenty-seven. Grew up and lived in Salem.”

Mason’s gut tightened. Ray’s voice was off.

“She was into politics. Belonged to a half dozen political groups and was a paid employee for several of Senator Brody’s reelection campaigns.”

“She worked with the senator? For how long?”

“I’m trying to find out. People come and go during election time. I have a call in to his chief of staff to see what kinds of records they have. But employment records list Senator Brody as one of her employers for three different years in the 1990s. She also worked for two other members of congress from the state.”

“Democrat or Republican?”

Ray looked up in disgust.

“I’m joking! Christ. Lighten up.”

Ray rubbed at his nose. “Fucking long day. I’ve got calls to the other congressmen to see what they know about her. Only one of them is still in office. The other owns a Ford dealership in Medford now.”

“Let me guess. That one was Republican.”

Ray’s gaze rolled toward the ceiling. “Anyway, she simply vanished off the face of the earth. Like the other ones. But she had more publicity and people looking for her. Her boyfriend was questioned pretty hard, but he had proof he was out of the state at the time of her disappearance. Her mother said she never believed the boyfriend was involved. Katy left work one evening as normal and didn’t return the next day. Her car was still in the lot. No one started to ask questions until the afternoon of the next day, when someone clued in that her car was still there. They’d figured she was sick and didn’t call.”

“Was she working for Senator Brody at that time?”

“Yep. It was deep in reelection time. Not that Brody ever had anyone seriously oppose him. That guy’s always been pretty popular. I have to imagine his campaigns weren’t too difficult.”

Elected office held no appeal for Mason. There was no way he wanted to beg for his job in public. It took a special type of person to be a politician. Senator Brody did it well; he was likeable and appeared honest. Mason had no personal problem with the senator or his politics; he just didn’t trust any politician. They couldn’t do their job without compromising something.

Mason didn’t compromise. His job was black and white.

He thought he did it pretty well.

“You have the senator’s personal cell, right?” Mason asked.

Ray rocked back in his chair, his face blank. “Yeah. So do you.”

“You call him?”

“Hell no. It’s eleven p.m.”

“Probably the best time to reach him.” Mason bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. Ray looked mildly ill at the thought of disturbing the senator at home this late. Ray had a hardcore set of social rules. Late-night phone calls were high on the list.

Mason enjoyed pushing Ray to break as many of his uptight rules as possible. Last month, he’d convinced the man to leave his garbage can at the curb two extra days after pickup. It cost Mason ten dollars for the bet, but he’d enjoyed watching Ray squirm over what the neighbors might think.

“This is a murder investigation.”

“Well, I want to read his previous statements on Katy Darby before I question him.”

“Good plan. Get reading.”

“That’s what I was doing when you walked in and started distracting me.”

“What did he say back then?”

“Great employee, deeply saddened, didn’t know her outside of a working relationship, yada, yada, yada.”

“Cooperative?”

“Very.”

Mason leaned back in his squeaky desk chair. “We need to talk to him again. Soon. Where’s Darby’s boyfriend these days?”

“New Hampshire. Married with two kids.”

That didn’t help much.

“As a cold case, it’s been reviewed four different times. Looks like they call the boyfriend and some co-workers, ask the usual questions, then re-file it. There’s been nothing new added.”

“And now we’ve got the body…well, the remains,” Mason corrected. “Anything unusual from the ME? Cause of death?”

“Dr. Campbell told me this is one of the bodies that had a broken hyoid, so they strongly suspect strangulation.”

“What’d they get back on the gun found at the kid’s murder?”

“Chris Jacobs says it was probably his. Says it was left at his home. Which was burgled, of course.”

“I want to talk to Jacobs.”

“Get in line.”

“I want him here. Tomorrow. And I want one of us talking with the senator within the next twenty-four hours, too. I’ve got a good feeling about Katy Darby.”

Chris explained the significance of the Twinkies, and Michael felt acid burn in the back of his throat. There was no doubt who had Jamie now.

In the hands of a fucking-psycho-freak.

Where were they?

How were they going to find them? Hove and Spencer didn’t have any leads pointing them to the tattooed man. Ghostman. That was a better name. The guy had been invisible for twenty years, silently tormenting the families of his victims.