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Did Skipper do that to her? “So,” Payne finally said as he exited off the expressway, “getting back to the runner you collared at A and M.”

“The punk had tried to throw away his cell phone during the chase; actually did toss it, but we recovered it. It was a pay-as-you-go one, paid for with cash. But the call list on the phone’s internal memory had a steady string of calls to the area codes here. And I’m betting that the phone records we subpoenaed from the cellular service provider will have more of them.”

“What about the cache of texts?”

Byrth nodded. “The text messages could have been a mini gold mine. But because this punk wasn’t very far up the ladder, there wasn’t much detail. When our computer forensic people worked on the memory chip, they uncovered a few new names and numbers and data that had been ‘deleted.’ So we’re working on connecting those dots.”

Payne made the turn off Race onto Eighth, then just down the block made a left into the asphalt parking lot behind the Philadelphia Police Department headquarters.

“Ah,” Byrth said. “So this is the famous Roundhouse.”

Payne pulled into a slot marked HOMICIDE. He shut off the car and turned to Byrth. “So does that cover all of this El Gato’s MO?”

Byrth shook his head. “Oh, hell no. Wait till you hear the good stuff. Starting with the sexual assault bordering on torture.”

VII

ONE

826 Sears Street, Philadelphia Wednesday, September 9, 3:51 P.M.

Paco Esteban could hear the sounds of the crowd even before he unlocked and opened the front door of his home.

Inside, he was not surprised to find that the voices belonged to eight members of his extended family, all women and all of whom had been in the laundromat that morning. Most filled the parlor in the back, sitting on the couch and in the stackable plastic chairs. Almost all were fingering a rosary. There was a Bible in one’s lap.

All but one, who was sobbing into her hands, glanced at Esteban as he entered. They nodded, then went back to their noisy conversations.

Paco Esteban walked into the kitchen, where he found Se?ora Salma Esteban. He smiled warmly at his wife as she approached him. He saw that her face was still puffy from crying. It was all the more evident as she’d pulled her dark hair back and pinned it into a bun. She wore the same dingy beige sleeveless cotton dress that she’d had on earlier.

“What did you find out?” she asked in Spanish. “Did you find out who this evil man really is?”

Paco Esteban went to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed affectionately. Then he kissed her softly on the cheek.

“How is Rosario?” he said.

She nodded. “Bueno. She is sleeping upstairs. What did you learn?”

He kissed her cheek again.

“My love, I went and met with Se?or Nesbitt, the man who is the business partner of Se?or Skipper.”

“And?” she said anxiously.

“And he said it will be all right. That I am not to do anything until he says.”

“What!” Se?ora Salma Esteban almost screeched. She grabbed her husband’s sleeve and pulled him to the doorway leading to the parlor.

She then said in rapid-fire Spanish: “Look at this! Our family! And their families! Everyone is terrified for their lives!”

Paco Esteban saw some of the women look his way. And their eyes did indeed look terrified.

He moved back into the kitchen, almost tugging along his wife with him. “My love, there is only so much that I can do…”

“Paco! We cannot live this way! We cannot be so fearful that we do not know what will happen to us the next minute.”

“My love, it is not that I disagree with you. I would like answers, too. And peace. But Se?or Nesbitt said that he would call me.” He pulled out the cell phone that Skipper Olde had given him. “He said for me not to do anything until he called.”

“Where is Se?or Skipper?” Salma Esteban said. “Why can he not help?”