For Sean Victor Donovan, the Fowler murder had been one of those cases that haunt a cop. Even though he left the law enforcement world behind and turned to the more lucrative business of private security in Northern Virginia, he’d be tormented by Rae Fowler’s murder until it was solved. And now it looked like it was.

     “You are over Cole Tucker, aren’t you?” Vic asked.

     “This has nothing to do with that.”

     “Cole Tucker’s accused of killing three women, Lacey. Three. Not just Rae Fowler. And she was murdered two years ago.”

     “Did you know the other two victims?” Lacey leaned against the bed, happy Vic was there, but slightly irritated with him. It was complicated.

     “I used to see them around town. By the time Ally and Corazon disappeared, I had moved on to the Steamboat PD, you know, and then back here to Virginia. Nursing my broken heart and all. Surely you’ll recall my broken heart? All your fault, if you remember.”

     “Then why was Tucker arrested now? Today?”

     “Darlin’, you know after the first forty-eight hours, a typical murder case is colder than Sagebrush in December. Unless the cops find new evidence or—”

     “Unless someone talks,” Lacey completed his thought. “Who talked?”

     “No idea. They’re keeping it quiet. One of the sheriff’s deputies apparently caught the tip.” Vic moved closer to her. “He told the sheriff, who called the CBI, who alerted the FBI. That’s where the AP caught the story.”

     She simply didn’t believe Tucker did it. It wasn’t possible. Lacey read the story again. “It says the bodies were all found partially clothed. All were barefoot. Stop playing with my boot, Vic.”

     Vic shifted the boot from hand to hand. Lacey grabbed it from him and set it on the bed. “When we found Rae, she was mostly dressed. No shoes. But she’d been out there in the wind and rain for a while. Hard to say what condition they were in when they were dumped.”

     Ally Newport was the second reported victim. At thirty, she was older, presumably wiser, but not quite as pretty as Rae Fowler. Yet dishwater blond Ally was “the belle of the ball,” according to those who had known her. Lacey stared at Ally’s picture: a rather plain face with blank round eyes, but a wide smile softened the effect.

     Vic took the AP wire story and glanced at it. “When Ally hit Sagebrush she was still acting like she was homecoming queen.”

     “She must have grown up the prettiest girl in a very small town,” Lacey said. “Even smaller than Sagebrush. Any boyfriends?”

     “Plenty. But nothing serious, and no suspects panned out. This was after I left, you know. Hearsay.”

     “And Corazon Reyes?” Lacey pointed to her photo. Corazon was the standout beauty in that unfortunate group. Petite and fine boned, Corazon had long black hair and dark almond-shaped eyes that twinkled, even in the smudged copy. “What do you know about Corazon?”

     “Not much. Other than she was dating Cole Tucker.”

     “What?” Lacey snapped to attention. My Cole? “That’s not in the news stories!”

     “No. But it’s probably common knowledge in town. Brad Owens, the prosecutor, mentioned it when he called me.”

     “The story says Corazon’s body was found nine months ago! But they arrested Tucker this morning?”

     Vic picked up Lacey’s boot again and absently wiggled the bootheel. He was worrying at it like a loose tooth. “Takes time to put a case together. New evidence apparently came to light. Owens said some things of hers were found out on Tucker’s property.”

                                                                                                           [cont.]