Free Dead Wrong by Mariah Stewart

working the case for the Bureau?” Aidan asked.
    “We have several field agents working with the locals. Two from the Philadelphia office, two from Mancini’s unit.” Annie remembered that was Aidan’s unit, as well. Or had been. “Miranda Cahill and Jake Domanski.”
    “I thought Domanski went with the terrorist unit.”
    “He changed his mind.”
    “I worked a case directly with Cahill a few years ago. One of her first cases, I think. She had a lot of promise,” Aidan recalled.
    “She’s a good agent.” Annie nodded. “She and her sister are both top-notch.”
    “Have you thought about a contract killing?” Aidan’s thoughts returned to the crime. “Maybe the reason the killer keeps going after women named M. Douglas is because he has a name but no idea of what M. Douglas looks like.”
    Annie leaned her head back against the chair and looked up at the ceiling, as if in deep thought. “Most contract killings are conducted with much less emotion. A shot to the head. A slice to the throat. Strangulation. Not this . . . this drama . . . that he keeps playing out. I’ve never seen a contract killer who behaved like this. And frankly, the rape scenario is not typical of contract killings. There’s something else at play here. . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    “The repetition of the same scene. The stabbings, the covering of the victim’s face. The rearranging of the clothes, covering up the rape.” Aidan repeated the facts as Annie had spelled them out for him. “The answer is in the crime scene.”
    “Exactly.” A grim Annie turned to look at Aidan. “It all speaks to playing out a rape fantasy. The stabbings were very deliberate. Even if he killed for someone else, the rape thing, that was clearly all his own.
    “But regardless of the motive, our man is no novice. He’s killed before. Many times. He’s too highly organized, too methodical, to be a beginner. The knife wounds on each of the victims were very specific, very precise. The wounds from victim to victim matched almost perfectly. He’s honed his craft very, very well.”
    “And I’m assuming you put all this into the computers at the Bureau. . . .”
    “Of course.” Annie nodded. “We’ve had some limited response to certain aspects—the rearranging of the clothes, for example—but not the whole package.”
    “And no fingerprints that matched up with any on file.”
    “We have nothing. We have a killer who’s obviously been practicing his trade for years but hasn’t left so much as a partial print or any fluids that we could test for DNA. He wore gloves, and a condom, each time.”
    “You referred to him earlier as a serial killer,” Mara recalled.
    “Oh, no question about it. Our UNSUB—hired man or otherwise—is a serial killer.” Annie turned to Mara. “And if he is going through the phone book to pick his victims, and you are next on his list, you go nowhere—I mean nowhere—without Aidan in your back pocket until this is over.”
    Annie stood, her hands on her hips, her face grave. “Like it or not, Mara, you’ve got a new housemate. And he stays until the police have made an arrest, so I suggest you get used to each other.”

 
     
    CHAPTER
FIVE
     
     
    “Y OU MIGHT AS WELL BRING YOUR STUFF IN,” A NNIE called over her shoulder to Aidan as she began to gather her own bags.
    “Can I give you a hand with those?” He reached for her suitcase.
    “No, no, I’m fine. I just thought that since I was walking out, you might want to walk with me.”
    “She means she wants to talk to you without me there,” Mara called from the kitchen, where she was finishing up the dishes from the impromptu dinner the three of them had shared.
    “Oh.” Aidan went to the doorway and picked up the largest of Annie’s suitcases. “You could have just said so.”
    “She’s such a smart-ass,” Annie said under her breath.
    “Last minute instructions, Mom?” Aidan held the front door open for her, then closed it behind