Castleton Police Department

  Detective Mackey is seated at his desk, a tablet computer propped up on a foldable stand in front of him. A pair of reading glasses is perched on the brim of the detective's nose and he types furiously on the tablet's screen. There are numerous tabs open and Mackey alternates between reading each one. He is searching for clues. Clues from the past.

  Dave enters the operations room, nodding politely to the female officer with the motorcycle tattoo as she exits. She offers him a tiny smile and goes about her duty. Dave grins as well. After weeks of subtle pressure, Sargeant Phyllis Emerson, has finally cracked. Detective Mackey's voice plays back in Dave's head: "Honey, not vinegar."

  Pulling up a chair, Dave straddles it and shakes the brown bag containing their food. Detective Mackey does not even bother to look up. He is too engrossed in his research. Dave lowers the bag to the desktop and leans over to see what Mackey is doing.

  "What are you looking for, James? And my god! What's with all of the open tabs? How can you even make sense out of any of that?"

  "I'm used to it," Mackey says without much emotion. "I've learned to multitask. Unlike you...Who can't even walk and talk at the same time!"

  Mackey slides his eyes craftily over to Dave. Dave rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

  "Ha ha. Whatever. I can do plenty of things at the same time. Ask any of my former girlfriends. I'm just not neurotic enough to try and read two-hundred online tabs all at once," Dave quips.

  "It's not two-hundred. It's fifteen," Mackey corrects Dave. "And every one of them is pertinent to our investigation. That is your new favorite word, isn't it? Pertinent."

  "Like I said...What have you found?" Dave presses.

  "I've been looking over the case details...What I can find online, anyway...Of a case I remember hearing about when I was still working out of the Portland Police Department. It involved a young lady who was found brutally murdered. The victim was also shaved clean. However, there were no other signs of outright desecration. I've been scratching my brain for weeks, trying to figure out why these murders in Castleton seemed so familiar. I'd nearly forgotten about this other case because it was never tied to any known killer. The killing stopped after only the one woman. The authorities thought it was a one-off thing. Case remains unsolved to this day. I've been in contact with the detective who was in charge of the investigation. A detective Robert Bennett. He's out of Lich, Montana. Don't worry, if you've never heard of it. Very few people have. It has a population of less than three hundred."

  "Will you stop with the geography lessons, James. I told you I misheard you about the Portland, Maryland thing. I knew Portland meant Oregon."

  "Okay, yes. But back to what I was saying," Mackey interrupts. "Anyway, Detective Bennett is faxing over some additional details about the case. Details not released to the public. However, he has also extended to us a personal invitation to visit him in his natural habitat. I'll have to run it by the chief, but I'm sure he'll be cool with it. Especially, if it means finally cracking this case."

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  "A personal invitation?"

  "Yes. Turns out the Lich Police Department is having a charity shindig this weekend. To raise money for their bedraggled department. It's in dire need of updating. They've managed to snag a few celebrities and some well-known political officials. They want to add our names to the guest list. Costs about five-hundred dollars a person to attend, but I'm sure they'll have some great food. At that price, they'd better," Mackey says with a thin smile.

  "Five-hundred dollars a head?" Dave exclaims in disbelief. "To go to some party in the middle of the desert? No thanks. They can save me the trouble, the grit in my teeth, and the strain on my wallet. Just have them fax everything over!"

  "Why?" Mackey protests, eyes widening. "I've already bought our tickets. The plane...Dinner. I've paid for everything! Why wouldn't you want to go, Dave? It's a chance to get out of this hellhole for a day or two and find some...Pertinent information...While we're at it."

  "We're still waiting on confirmation of the latest victim's identity. We can't go galavanting across the country right now! Besides, why would you buy the tickets if you weren't even sure the chief would say 'yes'?" Dave hisses through clenched teeth.

  Detective Mackey snatches the brown paper bag of food from the tabletop and rummages through it. He glowers at Dave as he slaps a sub sandwich on the table and refolds the bag.

  "Because either way, I'm going. I've got plenty of vacation time saved up. I'll make it a personal trip to scout out information. I can't sit around on my ass when the clue to this case could be in Lich, Montana. Five-hundred dollars is a small price to pay to catch this sack of crap."

  "O'Leary could refuse your vacation. We are in the middle of a serial murder case, Mackey."

  "Then, I'll tender my resignation. I'll pass on anything I find out to the new detective in charge. And to you. I trust you'd do the right thing by these girls."

  Mackey lowers his head while taking a bite from his sandwich. Grimacing, James unfolds the bag and grabs out a pack of mustard and a mayo. He opens his sandwich and spreads the condiments on. Dave stares at the young detective in disbelief.

  "Did I hear you right, James? Did you just say...You'd quit?" Dave says, not believing his ears.

  "If the chief forbids me to do my job...Which is to find any and all clues which could lead to the apprehension of a dangerous criminal...I will have no choice. At that point, my ability to bring this case to a hasty conclusion will be sorely hindered. You will have to continue where I left off. You and whatever replacement they choose."

  "Like hell!" Dave growls.

  "Excuse me?" James responds, arching his left brow. "What did you say, Dave?"

  "I said...Like hell! I don't care if I have to have Sheriff Northrop breathing down the chief's neck. I'll even get the mayor involved. You know how much Mayor Gunther hates bad publicity. We're not starting over from Square One. We can't afford to. Not with three girls murdered in less than two months. If what you theorize about this psychopath is accurate...Nine more girls are gonna die. Not on my watch. Or yours."

  Detective Mackey's eyes soften and he lowers his sandwich.

  "Well, well. And here I was thinking you didn't care, Dave," Mackey teases.

  "I care about this case getting solved. You can go eat dog crap!"

  "Uh-huh," Mackey says with a sidelong glance. "Well, while I'm eating dog crap...I think I should inform you. The charity dinner is a black-tie affair. So remember to wear your fanciest duds. I'll talk to the sheriff about our little plan. You talk to Chief O'Leary. Do your best to make it seem as if Northrop is already on board. A little...Divide and conquer. We can't lose."

  "Why do I get the impression you already had this whole thing worked out, James?"

  Detective Mackey grins and takes a bite of his sub sandwich.

  "Was that a compliment, Dave?"