copies of everything the Williamsburg police and FBI had on the serial murders.

 

They had carried the boxes up to Knox’s hotel room and stacked them against the

wall. They ordered room service and started going through them.

 

Knox sat cross-legged on the bed. She had changed into black leggings and a

pullover. Her feet were bare. Her hair was pulled back into a knot.

 

Puller had on the same clothes he’d worn that day, except he’d taken off his

windbreaker. He sat at a small desk against the wall, intently poring over

documents and photos and making notes on a legal pad.

 

The room had a balcony with a slider, which Knox had opened to let in the ocean

breeze.

 

A minute later room service arrived with their meals. Puller had opted for steak

and a baked potato, Knox for a salad with shrimp.

 

Puller was surprised to see the bottle of red wine.

 

After the attendant left, Knox uncorked the wine and poured out a glass. She

sniffed it and then looked at him. “I don’t know about you, but I think a lot

better with vino carbs in me.” He slowly nodded. “Okay.” “I don’t think we need

to let it breathe. It has all its got to give right now. Their wine list was

actually pretty good.” “Above my pay grade. I’m more a beer guy.” She handed him