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never forgive the person who did it. She couldn’t. The very thought of it made her tremble.
    Jack went to the arraignment early with her at three-thirty. She had read all the pertinent files by then, and knew Quentin’s history. She watched as they brought him into the courtroom in shackles and an orange jumpsuit. He was wearing jail-issue light canvas shoes, since his own boots had been taken as evidence for forensic, to analyze what was on them.
    Alexa watched him move across the courtroom. He was a big man, powerful, but graceful. He moved with an arrogance that struck her the moment she saw him. And she didn’t know why she thought it, but there was something subtly sexual about him. She could see why girls were attracted to him, or would be lured away to a quiet place to talk. He didn’t look ominous, he looked sexy, handsome and appealing, until you looked into his eyes and saw how cold they were. They were the eyes of a man who would stop at nothing. As a prosecutor, Alexa had seen eyes like that before. He chatted easily with the public defender who had been assigned to him, a woman. And Alexa saw him laughing. It didn’t seem to bother him at all that he was there, accused of four counts each of rape and murder. Murder in the first degree, premeditated, with intent to kill. They were throwing the book at him, and at the sentencing, if he was convicted, she was going to ask the judge to give him consecutive sentences. He was going to be in prison for the next hundred years at least, if Alexa had anything to do with it, and she hoped she would. This was going to be a long and complicated case to try to a jury, if he didn’t plead guilty, and guys like him usually didn’t. They brazened it out, and had nothing to lose. They had nothing but time on their hands and taxpayers’ money to spend. In some cases, it was a media circus they enjoyed. Luke Quentin didn’t look bothered by it at all, and as they waited for the judge to come out of chambers, Quentin turned slowly in his chair and looked straight at Alexa. His hands were cuffed, and his feet were shackled, and a deputy stood near him, and his eyes looked right through Alexa as though he had X-ray vision, and Alexa felt a chill run down her spine. When you looked into those eyes, it was terrifying. She shifted her gaze after a moment and said something to Jack, who nodded. It was suddenly easy to believe that Quentin had killed nineteen women, or maybe more. Charlie McAvoy was sitting in the courtroom, staring at him, and wanting to kill him. He had seen his sister’s body and what the killer had done to her. All he wanted now was justice. No punishment would be enough for Charlie.
    The judge came out of chambers then, and Alexa spoke for the people of the State of New York and stated the charges. The judge nodded as he listened, and the public defender spoke for the defendant and said he pleaded not guilty, to every charge, which was standard procedure. It meant that he was not going to admit guilt or plea-bargain for the moment, but none had been offered. It was too soon. No attempt was made to set bail, not on four counts of rape and murder, and Alexa said they would be seeking an indictment from the grand jury. And a few minutes later, Quentin was led back to the door where the prisoners entered, and taken back to jail. Just before he left the room, he turned and looked at Alexa again. He smiled an eerie smile, and then walked through the door another deputy had opened. It was as though he was looking Alexa over. She was older than he was, and twice the age of his victims, but his look said he could have her if he wanted. Alexa felt as though no woman would be safe from this man. He defined “menace to society,” and he was outrageously cocky. Nothing suggested remorse or fear or even worry. He looked like a big, handsome guy who had the world by the tail and could do whatever he wanted, or acted that way.
    There had been no press in the courtroom,