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from the looks of it, Harold was shot
point-blank in the chest and his left hand severed. In which order, I
don't know yet. The medical examiner should be able to tell me."
    Sara nodded, lowered the camera. "Blood-splatter patterns suggest
he was shot where he fell. The bullet to the chest would have been enough to
kill him."
    She squatted and studied the body. "There seem to be no bruises,
no scratches, and no signs of trauma. And there'd be signs of all that if
the killer tried to take the hand first."
    "Harold was a street-savvy guy and didn't trust easily. But
it looks like he came of his own free will with the killer. His car isn't
parked on the street."
    That caught her off guard. "He rode here with his killer?"
    "I think so. But that only narrows the search to about a million people,"
Zack said.
    "What would make him get into the car with a killer?"
    "Look at his left arm."
    She frowned. "Track marks. You think he came for drugs?"
    Zack understood the power of addiction. "Wouldn't
surprise me."
    She snapped more pictures. "With all the blood it will be a
miracle if the killer didn't get any on his feet. I'll search for
footprints." Sara glanced up at the sky and frowned before she lowered
her lens back to Harold's wrist. "Any sign of the hand?"
    "Not yet. I've got officers walking the backyard searching
for it."
    "Why take the hand? Some kind of trophy?"
    "Maybe."
    She glanced around at the houses. "I'm guessing a silencer
was used. Gunshot residue will tell me if the killer was close."
    "Work fast. I don't think the weather is going to hold."
    Sara nodded. "Morning news says late morning thunderstorms coming
out of the west."
    Not good. A scene like this could take days to process and it appeared
that they might only have hours.
    "I'll leave you to your work. Thanks." Zack stepped
back, aware that tension had settled in his lower-back muscles. He wanted a
beer but that was out of the question. He'd have to settle for a long run
along the river.
    "Hey, Zack."
    "Yeah?"
    Sara flipped her bangs out of her eyes, which were bright with
anticipation. "I'm having a party this weekend to celebrate my
promotion. Care to come?"
    Over the last couple of months Sara had asked him out a few times.
He'd made the mistake of sleeping with her a year ago. Since then, he had
made a point of keeping their relationship professional and sidestepping all of
her invitations. He couldn't explain why but he felt he owed fidelity to
Lindsay until the divorce papers were signed. "Thanks, Sara, but I
don't think I'll make it."
    She didn't hide her disappointment. "You sure you can't
come? Everyone at headquarters is going to be there. The party should be a real
crush."
    "Sorry. I'm going to have to pass, Sara." He offered a
wan smile and took a step back.
    Sara nodded thoughtfully and let her gaze drift from him to the shelter.
"When you see Lindsay, tell her I said hello."

Chapter
Four
    Monday, July 7, 9:45 A.M .
    Lindsay leaned over the sink in the
shelter's kitchen, staring out the window toward the crime scene. Zack
had expanded the crime scene to include the entire backyard. No doubt,
he'd seal it for days, months. If anything, he was thorough.
    Any hopes she'd had of preserving the shelter's anonymity
had vanished when she'd spoken to Zack. He wasn't going to cut one
corner on this investigation. She'd asked Ruby to call around to other
shelters to find beds for her six residents.
    Lindsay watched as the forensics technician brushed her bangs off her
forehead as she stared up at Zack. The tech leaned toward him a fraction, her
smile subtle but flirty. One hundred dollars said the chick was wearing
perfume.
    A familiar knot burned in the pit of her stomach. Was she the one Zack
had slept with the night she'd thrown him out of their apartment? Painful
memories compressed her heart. She turned from the window. It took a moment
before she could breathe deeply.
    Lindsay's fingers tightened into fists. "I don't care
who he sleeps with