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„ ‘And if for some reason you can’t sleep well, I recommend the blue stripes.’“
    There was silence in the room until Reagan tapped the table. She looked up to find the same frown on his face. „What does that mean, Kristen, ‘the blue stripes’?“
    Kristen fought back a bubble of what would most certainly be hysterical laughter. „What do you do when you can’t sleep, Detective Reagan?“
    Reagan studied her thoughtfully. „I usually get up and watch TV or read.“
    „Mia?“
    Mia looked at her strangely. „Sometimes TV. Sometimes the treadmill. Why?“
    Kristen pushed back from the table and peeled off the gloves that were sticky with her sweat. She grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands. „I do home improvements.“
    Mia’s blond brows jumped to the top of her forehead. „Excuse me?“
    Kristen’s lips curved in a self-deprecating smile. „I work on my house. I’ve painted walls, refinished hardwood floors and put in a new bathroom. Last month I wallpapered my living room. I hung samples on the walls for a week, trying to decide which pattern to go with. Pink roses, green ivy, or…“ Exhaling, she threw the paper towel away. „Or blue stripes.“ She turned to look at the group who looked collectively troubled. „I see you understand.“
    „He’s a vigilante murdering peeping Tom,“ Mia said, disbelief in her voice and this time Kristen couldn’t control her laugh, which thankfully didn’t sound too hysterical.
    „Jack, I need another pair of gloves. Let’s see what else he left in the crate.“
    Jack obliged and she pulled on the dry gloves while he gingerly removed folded clothing from the crate and placed each item in a specially prepared plastic tub. A rank odor filled the air and Kristen was suddenly glad she’d had no dinner. „We’ll unfold them in the lab, look for fibers, that kind of thing,“ he said. „We’ve got a shirt, very bloody.“ He flipped the collar to check the tag. „No famous brand. One pair of jeans, slightly bloody. Levi’s. One belt.“ He grimaced. „One pair of jockey shorts. Fruit of the Loom.“
    „Would his mother be proud?“ Spinnelli asked dryly and Jack chuckled.
    „You mean are they clean? May have been when he put ‘em on. Sure aren’t now. One pair of socks, one pair of Nikes. And finally…“ He frowned at the bottom of the crate. „I don’t know. Some sort of tile. Considerate of your humble servant to put a bottom in the crate, Counselor. That way nothing of importance slipped out.“ He lifted out a thin slice of stone, turning it over and sideways. „Well, this is one for the books. I think it’s marble.“
    „This whole case will be one for the books,“ Kristen said. „How about the next crate, Jack. The one with the Blades? I want to see if there’s another letter.“
    Jack sliced open the next envelope and more Polaroids and papers slid free. „He’s methodical,“ he said as they gathered closer. „Close-ups of the tattoos, bullet entry wounds.“
    Kristen clenched her fists to keep her fingers still. „Is there a letter, Jack?“
    „Patience, patience,“ he admonished.
    „You wouldn’t say that if he was peeping in your living room window,“ Mia said and Jack had the good grace to look chastised.
    „One map, ‘x’ marks the spot… And one letter.“ He handed it to Kristen, soberly.
    „Wonderful.“ Kristen scanned the page, swallowed back the lump that rose in her throat at the P.S. this one more personal. „‘My dearest Kristen. It would appear you haven’t yet found the first token of my esteem.’“ She looked up, found Reagan studying her with the same concern as before. „He sounds pissed.“
    Reagan’s black brows furrowed. „Go on.“
    „ ‘No matter, it’s only a matter of time, after all. I suppose we’re fortunate it is winter. They should keep.’“ Her own brows crinkled at that, then glancing at the map she understood and her stomach quickened at the thought. „He means their