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the pictures carefully, to pin them onto the corkboard. He left space, of course, for other pictures. There would be others.
    These pictures came first. The hunting.
    And then her.
    And then pictures of her metamorphosis would join the others on her board. Until at last it was complete. Until she was complete.
    He turned finally from his display wall and went to the center of the room, and to the table.
    She was secure, of course. He was always careful about that. And the drugs had done their work; she was only now coming out of it, eyes fluttering, trying to focus.
    He waited until they did, until she saw him. Watched those eyes widen and grow terrified.
    He smiled down at her.
    “Hello, sweetheart. We’re going to have so much fun.”

5
    E VEN WITH DAYLIGHT savings time still in effect, the sun was going down and the air had grown decidedly chillier by the time Marc pulled his unmarked cruiser into the driveway of Paris Kincaid’s rehabbed farmhouse on the edge of town. He assumed Paris’s BMW was in the garage, since he didn’t see it and since she was known to be finicky about leaving it out in the weather.
    Dani’s Jeep was in the drive ahead of Marc’s cruiser. And parked beside it was an innocuous black SUV.
    Innocuous, my ass. Why not just use plates that say
FED ?
    Standard Georgia license plates or not, Marc knew a federal vehicle when he was staring at one.
    And because he didn’t really want to think about why federal agents would be here now, on this particular day, unsummoned and, please God, unneeded, he chose to focus instead on the irritatingly neon choice of vehicle.
    Even with all the SUVs on the road, there was just something about this one that screamed out what it was. Way too obvious for his taste. Marc never wore a uniform, did not carry his weapon openly if he could avoid it, and had made certain his “unmarked” cruiser looked more like a businessman’s nice car than one belonging to a law-enforcement official.
    He didn’t like to be all that visible while he kept an eye on his town; his might be a political position in some minds, but not in his, and he probably knew more about what went on in Venture than any sheriff before him could have claimed.
    Not that it was always a pleasure to be so well informed.
    Like now. Knowing that at least one citizen of Venture had died horribly and they had so far found only pieces of her made his stomach churn in a way his chief deputy would have recognized. The difference was that Jordan could get physically sick and pretty much rid himself of the poisons—and sleep like a baby tonight.
    Marc would be having nightmares for weeks.
    Assuming he could even sleep.
    Dani met him on the front porch, her face pale and drawn, the earlier worry now even more obvious. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “When we talked before, in town, I didn’t know.”
    “You knew something.” It wasn’t—quite—an accusation.
    “Something. But not that. What I knew—what I know or think I know—hasn’t happened yet.”
    Marc considered that briefly, then shrugged it off to be dealt with later. Right now he had to be concerned with what had happened, not what might. “When you called a few minutes ago, you knew.”
    “Because somebody told me. Come in, Marc. There are people here you need to meet.”
    Feds. But why come like this? Why so…unofficially?
He didn’t budge. “So you said. What people?”
    Dani didn’t seem surprised or put out by his stubbornness, and answered readily. “John Garrett, for one. You’ve probably heard of him.”
    “I’ve heard he’s a very wealthy man and a very powerful one. I don’t know what the hell he’d be doing in Venture.”
    “He’s also a good man, trying to make a difference. He and his wife, Maggie, run the…company Paris and I work for. You know about Haven?”
    “I know it’s not federal.”
    “No. Privately run.”
    “I don’t know much more than that. I knew Paris traveled some for work, but