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understanding or of judgment, but he was beyond caring what the Neanderthal thought.
    “What time did you see her last?” At least Flaherty seemed to have some sensitivity.
    “I left the bar at around seven or so. We were out at the International, right across the street.”
    “Did she tell you what her plans were for the rest of the weekend?”
    Finn thought for a moment. “I’m pretty sure she had a date, but she didn’t give me an itinerary or anything like that.”
    “Did she tell you who the date was with?”
    “She didn’t. She had a new boyfriend, I think, but he was older, and I guess I didn’t really approve, so she didn’t go into it.”
    Flaherty and Kozlowski shared another look. Kozlowski asked the next question. “You don’t know anything about this guy?”
    Finn thought back to his conversation with Natalie. She’d been talking about her new man in veiled terms, but he’d tuned her out. He’d been too busy dealing with his own emotions. In his memory, he could hear her voice in the background of his own thoughts, but he couldn’t make out what she had said. “Like I said, I got the impression he was older, but that’s about it,” he said at last.
    “What was your relationship with Ms. Caldwell?” Again, it was Kozlowski, and his voice had a bite to it that annoyed Finn.
    “We were colleagues,” he said flatly.
    “That it?” Kozlowski pressed.
    Finn breathed in slowly as he considered the question. “No, that’s not it,” he said after a pause. “We were friends.” He turned back to Flaherty. “Are we done here? It’s turned into a pretty crappy day.”
    Flaherty nodded. “I think that’s all we need at the moment, but I do have a favor to ask.”
    “I can’t wait.”
    “As I said before, we haven’t been able to get a positive identification—yet.” She paused, as though unsure whether to follow through with her request. Finn could read the question on her face, though.
    “You’ve got to be kidding. You want me to ID her body?”
    “I know it’s not pleasant, but we need to do this if we’re going to progress with the investigation. I would think you would want to do that for your friend.”
    Finn rolled his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to look at Natalie’s dead body. He would have much preferred to remember her the way she was when she was alive: vibrant, vital, and beautiful. But something about what Flaherty said struck a chord. It wasn’t so much the investigation he was worried about; it was that she didn’t have any family. Natalie was an only child and she’d lost her parents when she was young. Finn was an orphan, and had never known his parents. The absence of family was one of the things they shared; a bond that others probably wouldn’t understand, but that kept them together even when there was tension between them. He couldn’t let her death go unacknowledged by the one person who really cared about her. That would be too much of a betrayal.
    He also still harbored the desperate hope, in the back of his mind, that they’d made a mistake. Maybe she wasn’t really dead. He knew he’d never really accept her death unless he saw her with his own eyes.
    “All right, let’s go,” he said, standing up and grabbing his suit jacket. When he got to the door a thought struck him. He turned around and looked at Flaherty. She was less than an arm’s length away from him in the small office and he could smell her perfume.
    “I thought Little Jack only killed prostitutes. Why would he have killed Natalie?”
    Flaherty hesitated, trying to phrase her answer delicately. “She was dressed provocatively. He might have mistaken her for something she wasn’t.”
    Finn closed his eyes again and dropped his chin into his chest. He was silent for a moment as he fought off a wave of memories. He knew he had to put them aside if he was going to get through this. He could do it; he’d done it before. It was a part of the survival skills he’d