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defiantly before him. Every curve and valley of her body was natural, and highly responsive to his touch.
    “You’ve lost weight since the academy,” he said. “You look better with a little meat on your bones.”
    Slowly she turned her head and glared at him. He tensed for the verbal punch that was coming.
    “And you’d look better if you disappeared.”
    He nodded. “I will after we make an arrest.” Then added, “If that’s what you want.”
    Pushing off the wall she said, “Yeah, that’s what I want.”
    “I’m sure it is.” He glanced at his watch. “In the meantime, you have ten minutes to collect yourself and return to the surveillance room.”
    He turned on his heels and left.
     
     
    Clutching the car key, Stevie sat in the Crown Vic for a solid twenty minutes staring out the windshield. She knew she would work with the devil if it meant locking up Spoltori. Looked like that was exactly with whom she would be working. But it didn’t mean that she had to like it, or that it would be easy.
    Her father’s voice droned in her ears. “Emotions have no place in police work, Stevie. They weaken your objectivity.”
    “Get a grip, Cavanaugh,” she said out loud to herself. She was a big girl, a big girl who knew how to use her gun and possessed the self-control of a Tibetan monk. She had this.
    Determined, she opened the door, exited, then locked it. She wasn’t going back because Jack told her to; she was going back because it was what she wanted. To work tirelessly for the victims and their families until she made an arrest.
    Staring straight ahead she marched back to the stuffy hellhole. Deavers was gone. Jack looked at his watch, “You’re fifteen minutes late, Detective. You’re going to pay for it.”
    “Promises, promises,” she quipped as she glanced at the open bathroom door. It was empty. “Where’s Sidel?” she asked. It wasn’t like him to be late.
    “Russo just informed me that he called in sick,” Jack answered.
    “Where’s your man?” Stevie asked, tossing the backpack onto the small desk in front of the storyboard, and noticed a second video camera set up next to hers.
    “Relieving Oliveras.” Jack scowled at her. “I know he’s your partner, but he’s inept. I have no use for ineptitude. He’s off the task force.”
    Stevie opened her mouth to protest just because it was Jack making that call when it should have been hers. But it was the right call. Oliveras
was
inept and held back the case. “The city is cash-strapped. We’re over one hundred officers down from our minimum contract with the city. I had no choice but to work with him.”
    “I don’t want to hear excuses, Cavanaugh, I want to hear how we’re going to crack this case wide open.”
    “Then roll up your damn sleeves and let’s get to it.”
    Stevie could see by the files pulled up on the laptop that Jack had been reading through them.
    “I’ve made a copy of the case files that I can read over later tonight, but for now, I’d like you to bring me up to speed.”
    Stevie nodded. “This is what I have so far.” Pointing to the picture of Spoltori up on the storyboard she said, “Mario Vittorio Spoltori is an independent stockbroker, his firm is called The Edge Fund. He thinks he’s a smart-ass, because his Master name is ‘The Edge,’ identifying his penchant for edge play.”
    “Edge play?”
    “BDSM lingo for beyond spanking. Edge play is all about hard-core pain, including cutting.”
    Stevie pointed to the enhanced photos of each victim’s shaved pubis. “And let’s make no mistake about Spoltori’s place in the BDSM world, where there are levels of dominance. He is clearly and widely known as a Master. Not a Top or even a Dom but a Master.
The
master of edge play.” Jack nodded for her to continue. “All three victims were cut with the same sharp edge; forensics thinks it was an exacto knife. Each vic had the same symbol carved into them.” She moved in and looked closer at