She exhaled slowly through her nose. Like anywhere with him is okay.

The car moved slowly for a short time and stopped. The engine turned off.

Jamie held her breath. She heard the car door open. He got out, slammed the door, and his footsteps grew fainter. He was leaving her alone. In the dark.

She strained her eyes to see in the dark. He’d left the space open to the trunk, but all she could see was a narrow view of cement walls, like the inside of a parking structure. An indirect light source gave the walls a soft glow.

Where was she?

Silence.

She relaxed and closed her eyes, thinking of Michael. If anyone could figure out where she was, he could.

Ray stretched in his chair, joints audibly popping. “Brody says the senator is spending the night at the governor’s mansion and then leaving with the governor for Japan in the morning on some political trip. He tried to reach him, but his cell is probably off. He’s heading to Salem to try to catch his father before they head to the airport.”

“Looks like our killer is headed that way anyway.” Mason rubbed at his eyes. It was four in the morning, and he wasn’t going home anytime soon. There were too many irons in the fire that he wanted to keep an eye on.

“We’ve got his vehicle description and plates out to every trooper on the road. We’ll find him,” Ray said confidently.

“I want to know who this son-of-a-bitch really is. And I can’t believe that trooper took a fake ID.” Mason paced in the police building. He and Ray were the only ones on their floor working. Normal folks had gone home long ago.

“Wasn’t fake. Was legit. Just wasn’t him.”

“I want to catch this asshole. Then I want to pull the lever on the electric chair.”

“I suspect there’ll be a brawl to be the lucky guy who gets that job.”

“There’s got to be something in that old murder case that points us in the right direction.”

“You already talked to Lee Fielding. You think you could get any more out of him?”

Mason shook his head. “I’ve listened to that interview twice. Fielding doesn’t know crap.”

“What about the Darby file?”

“Until one of us talks to Senator Brody, I don’t think we’ll get much further there. I want to know what exactly his relationship was with the young woman.”

Ray wrinkled his nose.

“For fuck’s sake. You know as well as I do. Senators and their employees get it on all the time. Anytime a man has power like that, he’s suddenly attractive to a lot of women. Especially the young ones,” Mason stated.

“I don’t like to think of anyone taking advantage of Cecilia Brody.”

“Of course not. She’s a very ill woman. But she’s smart, and I’ve seen her and the senator interact. He cares. If he hurt her at some point in the past, she’s forgiven him. But that doesn’t mean she’s forgotten about it.”

“Are we gonna draw straws to see who gets to talk to him?”

“I’ll do it. I wish he wasn’t leaving the country. I’d rather talk to him in person again. I just can’t get the same feel for a person on a cell phone. People are much more comfortable lying on a cell phone. I need to see his face so I know what he’s not telling me.”

Ray nodded. “Maybe we need to try to talk to him before he gets on a plane.”

“Shit, I drove to Salem yesterday. I don’t want to go again. And I haven’t fucking slept.” Mason rubbed a hand over his face, pulling at his cheeks. It felt like the blood had left his skin; there was an odd numbness to his face. Lack of sleep.

About three times a year, there’d be a case that would keep him and Ray up all night. A case where they were so close to something big that neither man could sleep because the answer might be right around the corner. This damned tattoo man was just out of their reach. If they didn’t close their eyes, maybe they could sneak up on him.

“Let’s both go. Let’s just get in the car and head south. We’ll hit Starbucks and be waiting at the Salem airport when the senator gets there. He’ll have to take a few minutes to talk to us. Hell, he can catch a plane to Japan the following day if he needs to. Leave a message on his cell to call us back, saying we want to talk to him this morning. He’ll get the message when he wakes up.”

Ray was right. Standing around the office, staring at their phones wasn’t helping. They might as well put themselves in the senator’s path. At least it’d feel like they were doing something.

“You’re right. But damn, I wish I could take a shower first.” Mason discreetly sniffed at his armpits. “Christ! I reek.”

“I’ve got some extra shirts. Go wash up, and I’ll loan you one,” Ray offered.

Mason eyed the width of Ray’s weight-lifter chest. “Your stuff won’t fit me. I’ll look like an idiot.”

“You want to stink for the senator? Or just look like you don’t know your size? Your choice.”

“I’ll take the shirt.”

Thirty minutes later, Mason and Ray were headed south out of Portland. Two coffees in Mason’s sedan’s cup holders and a file from Lee Fielding’s murder trial on Ray’s lap.

Mason was wearing an orange polo shirt. It had the damned little horse on it and everything. He felt like he glowed. Ray had offered him three different polo shirts. Pastel stripes, solid yellow, or solid orange. He went with the lesser of three evils. The shirt wasn’t as baggy as he expected, probably because Ray had a tendency to wear them a little on the snug side.