paused. “And I’m seeing her right now.” “What do you mean?” “You have your dad’s

height but your mother’s eyes, nose, and cheekbones.” Puller glanced down at the

file he was holding, evidently uncomfortable with her observation. “I guess I

never really thought much about that.” “Because it reminded you of your loss?”

said Knox.

 

Puller didn’t answer her.

 

She said, “It is a weird coincidence that a serial killer was operating barely

thirty minutes away killing young women and it doesn’t seem like the police here

even made inquiries into whether your mother’s case was connected or not. At the

very least they should have done a little digging, particularly since they

really had no other leads.” “It’s more than weird. It’s inexcusable.” He reached

over and snagged another file he’d brought into her room. “What’s that?” she

asked, finishing her wine and pouring herself another glass. “CID file from my

mom’s case. If the special agent on the case is still alive maybe we should talk

to him.” “You think he’ll remember anything pertinent?” “It’s why we ask the

questions.” They finished going over the files and then Puller made some calls

and located retired CID agent Vincent DiRenzo. He left a message for DiRenzo,

rose, and stretched out his tall frame. “I think that’s all we can do tonight,

Knox.” Knox had taken off the pullover, revealing a tight white tank top

underneath. She laid aside a file, sat up, freed her hair from the knot, tousled

it, and looked at him. “It’s not that late,” she said. “And we haven’t finished

our wine.” “It’s after midnight,” he pointed out. “We both need to get to bed.”

“Okay.” He stared down at her and she back up at him. “What?” “You know what,