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told us that Karyn left early.”
    “That’s right. Ms. Westermark left her suite after five or ten minutes, alone. Mr. Lane followed a few minutes later. He looked agitated.”
    “We know Karyn left the casino,” Amanda said. “What did MJ do?”
    “He returned to the blackjack table and played for another hour. He was drinking heavily. Around one in the morning, Mr. Lane told me he was planning to take a walk. I got the picture.”
    “What did MJ talk about after he came downstairs?”
    “He mainly talked about Walker Lane, his father. It’s no secret to anyone who knows Mr. Lane that he and his father don’t see eye to eye. I don’t exactly get along with my father, either.”
    “Have you had any unusual troubles with casino security lately?”
    Gerard actually laughed enough to show a glint of teeth. “Unusual would be a day when we did
not
have something unusual, Detective. Casinos run on money, alcohol, sex, and emotion. I don’t have to tell you, it’s a volatile combination.”
    “But nothing involving MJ?” Amanda asked.
    “No. Our VIP patrons rarely cause that kind of trouble. They’re more like children who play too hard. Sometimes their toys break.”
    “We want to see some of the casino tapes from this evening,” Stride said. “Can we do that from here?”
    “Of course. But nothing odd happened in the blackjack suite, I assure you. And there’s no sound on the tapes.”
    Stride shook his head. “I don’t want the blackjack suite. I want the casino floor. If someone was following MJ, I want to know if he was in the casino.”
     
     
    Gerard was proud of his eyes in the sky.
    When he clicked a button on the mouse, dozens of thumbnail video feeds fanned onto his screen like cards dealt on a table.
    “We were among the first casinos to go all digital in our cam system,” Gerard explained. “Everything’s burned for permanent storage. No more swapping out hundreds of tapes every day. You win more than a thousand dollars at a sitting, we keep your face on file forever. And we can capture anyone’s face in the casino and run a comparative search against our database and the Metro and Gaming Control files in a few seconds. Some of our technical staff used to work for the Bureau.”
    He used the mouse to click on one of the thumbnails, and a larger image of a middle-aged Asian woman playing a Five Play video poker machine filled half the screen. The quality, Stride had to admit, was dazzlingly good. With a practiced nudge of the joystick, Gerard focused on the woman’s hands and zoomed in until they could clearly see her stubby fingers selecting each button.
    “Most people know we’re watching,” Gerard said, “but they don’t realize the power of the technology.”
    “Let’s check the cam on the main doors around ten o’clock,” Stride said. “You can do that?”
    Gerard nodded. “All of the images are time-stamped.”
    “I want to see MJ arrive and see if anyone follows him in,” Stride added.
    Stride untangled himself from the chair, and he and Amanda crowded around Gerard, watching over his shoulder. Gerard slid his chair farther under the credenza and brushed imaginary lint from his coat sleeve. He caressed the mouse like a lover as he swept the cursor around the screen at lightning speed.
    “Here we are.”
    Stride watched MJ Lane and Karyn Westermark arrive through the revolving doors. Karyn wore an oversized purple football jersey, white short shorts, and white highheeled boots that hugged her calves and accentuated her long legs. MJ was wearing the same grunge-cool outfit—untucked shirt and loose shorts—in which they had found him a few hours later. Not a care in the world. Stride always felt slightly nauseous seeing videotape of victims shortly before their deaths. Their faces were unaware, oblivious to the fact that the sand had almost run out of the hourglass. The black-hooded devil stood right behind them, polishing his scythe, and they smiled and laughed as