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Dana satin the passenger seat of Richter’s SUV, anxiously waiting for Hartwell to arrive with backup. The request for a search warrant had been filed but Richter had warned Hartwell the lengthy process would take too long. Stating he had reason to believe waiting would place others in danger, and possibly allow Dvita time to destroy evidence, Hartwell had agreed to meet them with a team for rapid search and seizure.

That’s how she found herself staking out Dvita’s home office.

“Is this even legal?” Dana asked, adjusting the straps of her tactical vest.

“Exigent circumstances,” Richter replied. “It’s what we do when a suspect spooks,” he explained. “And that man is the definition of spooked.”

Dana had to agree. Dvita had abruptly ended his session when one of his patients asked if he knew who the Reaper would come after next. Feigning the beginnings of a migraine, he excused himself and rushed out of St. Ann’s without another word.

Not following him wasn’t an option. Dana rushed outside in time to see Dvita’s blue Volvo peel out of the parking lot. The next thing she knew, she was climbing into Richter’s SUV before he objected.

They’d been sitting outside the small red brick colonial on Klingle Street for less than five minutes, but it was more than enough time for doubt to begin to creep in. Dvita was smart, maybe too smart. “What if this is a trap?” Dana asked.

Richter cocked an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. I mean I was there; I saw everything you saw. He’s definitely hiding something. But trying to keep everyone quiet, rushing out in the middle of his session … it almost feels scripted.”

“Like he wanted us to follow him here?”

“Maybe. What if he’s drawing us away from the real killer?”

“Look, Gray. All you can do is trust your gut. It got you this far. And mine is saying the same thing. Dvita’s our guy. He’s the Reaper. He fits the profile. He knew each victim, is the right height and build to inflict the injuries. It’s everything but the smoking gun.”

“Which we’ll find inside?”

“If we’re lucky.”

“What if we don’t find anything?” Dana asked. “We said it’s possible there’s more than one killer. What if we can’t prove it’s him?”

“Then we keep looking.”

Dana didn’t know what answer she was looking for. If Dvita was the Reaper, then this would be over. But if he was the killer, then it also meant that Dana had blindly turned Claire over to a monster. And she didn’t know how to rectify that.

Hartwell’s voice crackled to life over the radio. “We’re two clicks out.”

“Roger that,” Richter replied. “Eyes on Tango. Locked and loaded.”

“10-4.”

Richter looked at her as the screech of tires turned onto the street. “You don’t have to go in.”

“No. I want to.”

“Alright. Let’s see it through.”