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everything he could think of to dig up some kind of lead on Susan. But he'd had no luck at all. Along with the police and the private investigator hired by Holly's parents, he and Holly had talked to Susan's friends, neighbors and work associates. They'd visited nightclub after nightclub with Susan's picture and checked her bank account again.
    Still they'd come up empty.
    "Holly called while you were in the shower," his mother said from the doorway.
    Caleb glanced over his shoulder. Justine Trovato was in her early sixties, but she looked at least ten years younger. Today she'd pinned up her white hair and was wearing a tasteful pair of brown slacks and a silky blouse, with pearls at her neck and ears.
    "If she calls back, tell her I need to do a few things on my own today," he said.
    "If she calls back? Aren't you going to respond to her message? She thought you might need a ride somewhere."
    Caleb didn't want to talk to Holly. They'd lost their tempers yesterday while canvassing the apartment building, and she'd stormed off for a couple of hours. She came back when she'd cooled off, but they were both pretty tense. He thought they could use some time apart. Which was the story of their whole relationship. "I'll rent a car."
    "You know you can take my Cadillac." Justine moved into the room to straighten a doily, and Caleb immediately recognized the lavender fragrance she'd worn since he was small.
    "I don't want to put you out. I don't really know my schedule."
    "I'm sure I could live without a car for the day. Your father's out back tinkering in his shed. He could drive me in his little pickup if I need to go somewhere. Or there's always your sister."
    Tamara, Caleb's older sister, lived next door with her husband and twin boys in a home his parents had helped them buy. "I appreciate the offer, Mom, but I'll feel more mobile if I have a car of my own."
    "If it makes you more comfortable, dear."
    More comfortable? Caleb wasn't feeling very comfortable about anything. He'd already spent far more time than he'd hoped it would take to find Susan--and he wasn't any closer than the day he'd arrived in Seattle.
    She'll turn up.... He'd told Holly that when she first called him. But those words seemed terribly glib now. He was beginning to think that if Susan did turn up, she'd turn up dead. Otherwise they would've found some trace of her.
    "Where are you planning to go?" his mother asked.
    "I spoke to Detective Gibbons this morning and--"
    "Oh, he called here yesterday saying he'd received a message from you."
    "He got hold of me on my cell."
    "Can he help?" His parents were as worried about Susan as he was. They'd met her at his wedding--the second time, they'd eloped--and had seen her at a few family functions since.
    "He doesn't know much about Susan's case. It's not his to worry about."
    "Then why did you contact him?"
    "He worked on the Sandpoint Strangler task force with me."
    "Those poor women." His mother shuddered. "But you're not interested in the Sandpoint Strangler anymore, are you? I thought you put that book aside."
    Caleb had always been interested in the Sandpoint Strangler. Probably because he'd been brand-new to the police department when the killings first started, so he'd followed them from the very beginning. The Sandpoint Strangler was the biggest case he ever worked, too, and the most frustrating. He felt as though they'd come within inches of unraveling the whole mystery--only to have Ellis Purcell check out before they could hit pay dirt. When the killings stopped and the case went cold, the task force disbanded and the police naturally changed their focus to finding those rapists and murderers who were still living and breathing and capable of violence. Caleb had given up the search then, too. But he'd never stopped wondering how, exactly, the strange Mr. Purcell had managed to kill so many women and dump their bodies in such public places without leaving more of a trail. He'd since done several books