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It was a bare room, for the most part, with only a few shelves along one wall to show it had been used at least once for storage. The high windows admitted just enough illumination, from the southwestern corner of the building and the hot sun low enough in the sky, to provide mote-filled beams of light focused on the center of the room.

On her.

One end of a thick, rusted chain was wrapped around a steel I-beam overhead, while at the other end of the chain a big hook jutted from between her rope-bound wrists. She dangled, literally, from the hook, her feet several inches above the floor. There was nothing beneath her except rusty stains on the concrete.

Thick, dark hair hung down to mostly obscure her face. The clothing she had worn, a once-demure blouse and skirt, had been shredded, but very neatly, methodically, almost artistically. The material provided a fringe that almost hid what had been done to her body.

Almost.

“Jamie didn't do this,” Mallory whispered. “She couldn't have done this.”

“Nothing human could have done this,” Hollis responded, her own voice thin. “It's like he was curious to see what color her insides were.”

Mallory backed out of the room, gagging, and Hollis didn't have to follow to know the other cop was throwing up everything she'd eaten today.

Her own stomach churning, Hollis reached for her cell phone, her gaze fixed on the dangling and decomposing body of a woman who'd been gutted like a fish.

6:00 PM

The medical examiner for the county, Dr. David James, was a normally dour man, and a scene like this one didn't make him any more cheerful.

“She's been dead at least a couple of months,” he told Rafe. “The fairly cool, dry conditions in here probably slowed decomp a bit, but not much. I can't be positive, of course, but from the bruising on her neck I'm guessing strangulation, probably with a rope of some kind. Whoever cut her did it postmortem, probably days afterward; there was almost no bleeding from those wounds.”

“Anything missing?” Rafe kept his own voice as level as the doctor's, but it required a tremendous effort.

“I'll be able to tell you more when I get her on the table, but it does look like one kidney is gone, some of the intestines, part of her stomach.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah. I may be able to get you prints from her, and it looks like she's had some dental work done, so we have a fair shot at an I.D. if she's one of the missing women on your list. Get this guy, Rafe. What he did to the other women was bad enough, but this . . . He's worse than a butcher.”

Rafe didn't comment on the doctor's assumption that the same killer was responsible for this woman's death. “We're doing our best.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Dr. James hunched his shoulders a little, weariness in the gesture. “My guys are standing by to bag her as soon as yours are finished.”

“Right.”

“I'll get the report to you ASAP.”

Rafe watched the doctor make his way back toward the front of the former gas station, then returned his gaze to the activities in the back room. T.J. and Dustin were working methodically, their faces grim. Off to one side, Isabel stood with Hollis as they studied the dead woman.

If he'd been asked to guess, Rafe would have said that Hollis was feeling queasy and Isabel was exhausted. He was pretty sure both hunches were on the mark.

Mallory joined him in the doorway and nodded toward the federal agents, saying, “They still believe she was one of Jamie's playmates, the one accidentally killed.”

“But they don't believe Jamie did this,” Rafe said, a statement rather than a question.

“No.”

“Which begs the question . . .”

“Who did. Yeah. Didn't Doc say she died two months ago at least?”

Rafe nodded. “Before the murders started. Isabel?”

She and Hollis immediately walked over to join them at the doorway.

“The doc says she didn't bleed to death,” Rafe said to Isabel without preamble.

She nodded. “Yeah, I missed that one. I'm guessing the lab work from Jamie's playhouse will come back showing several