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asked with an ingratiating smile.
McNally flipped through the key ring, searching for the one to unlock the office. “Yeah.” He gave him a look that had ended more than one conversation in prison.
The guy stuffed his mail into a grocery bag. McNally wanted him to scurry back to his apartment, but the tenant pulled out a flyer to the discount store and began to flip through it.
McNally swallowed his irritation.
This key looked about right. He stuck it in the lock and turned the knob.
Bingo.
He walked into the office. He felt the tenant’s eyes on his back, felt them tracing the lines of the spiderweb inked on his skull, sensed the man’s indecision about whether to ingratiate himself further—or keep a safe distance.
He shut the door on the tenant. Then bolted it.
It was for the man’s safety, he decided. Because if that guy bugged him any more, he’d punch his face in.
He turned on the computer. He had little access to computers on the inside, but he had received some job training while out on parole a few years ago. The computer was old and slow. By the time the software loaded, his teeth were gritted. He typed Kenzie’s website URL, and watched the site load.
His throat tightened. Koi fish swam up the sides of the computer screen. The background was a faint image of a waterfall. He entered the site and faced Kenzie, full screen.
His entire body flushed at the sight of her long, tattooed limbs. Her full breasts. Her mocking smile.
Had she ever tried to find him? Had she ever looked up his phone number or tried to search for him on the internet?
She had told him he was her soul mate. And he had believed her. He had been desperate to believe her. After years of being sent from foster home to foster home—and never once hearing from his own mother—Kenzie had been the one thing he could call his own. He had let her into the darkest parts of his soul—and she had reveled in them.
He had given her everything.
He had done everything she asked.
They would be bound by blood, sin and complicity.
And then he never heard from her again.
His heart twisted.
He scrolled through the pages of her website. He read her “tips” with a curl to his lip. Then he realized, his stomach tightening, that he didn’t know many of the techniques she described.
The bitch.
He clicked on “Events and Appearances.”
Hey, all you East Coast ink lovers, I’m coming to Halifax! Book an appointment at Yoshi’s.
The post was dated last week.
His entire body broke out in chills.
Kenzie. Back in Halifax.
He didn’t even have to go looking for her.
She was coming here.
It was a sign.
He exited the website, and cleared the browser cache. He did not want Lovett discovering that he had been on Kenzie’s site.
The phone rang. He glanced at the clock. Shit. It was already after 10:00 a.m. He had better get his work done.
If he was quick, he could finish by early afternoon and head over to Yoshi’s.
He answered the phone. It was Lovett, checking on him.
A vein in his temple throbbed.
It pissed him to no end that he was being bossed around by Lovett.
It won’t be for long. Now that Kenzie’s in town, you can move ahead with your plans.
Plans.
He liked that word.
For too long, it had seemed like a pipe dream. Fantasy. Whatever you wanted to call it, it had seemed unattainable.
The X inked on his heart had been a constant reminder to keep the faith.
And now, the universe handed him Kenzie on a platter.
Kate Lange would be next.

5
     
S weat trickled behind Detective Sergeant Ethan Drake’s ear. It was one of those glorious May days, a chimera of summer’s arrival. He wiped his forehead, impressed with the pace set by forensic anthropologist Darcie Hughes, Ph.D., as they followed the worn footpath to Chebucto Head.
He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Dr. “Darcie” Hughes was a woman. Judging by her indifference to his double take when she jumped out of her four-wheel drive, he guessed she was used to it.
Dr. Hughes swatted