Cereal Killer

too,” he said.
    Savannah looked under the twin bed that was perfectly made, the only thing in the room that seemed to be undisturbed. All she saw was a row of shoe boxes.
    “Here, too,” she said, straightening up and looking around her with a heavy, sick feeling that felt a lot like failure. “He got to her before we did,” she said.
    “He? How do you know it wasn’t a she? Or a they?"
    “Get real,” she snapped, in no mood to argue gender-correctness with him. “It’s almost always a friggin’ he. ” But for once, Dirk didn’t seem inclined to argue either. He shrugged. “True... but it’s not exactly a given.”
    “How about Kevin Connor?” she asked. “It’s usually a he, and it’s usually the husband or the boyfriend.”
    “Connor’s alibi is airtight. He was at work all day.”
    “You checked that?” Savannah could hear the fury in her own voice, but she didn’t care.
    “I checked it, Van. They say he never left the hospital. Every minute of his day is accounted for,” he said softly. “Take it easy, honey.”
    Savannah wasn’t above feeding a guy his teeth for calling her “honey” or “sweetie” or “babe.” But she could tell by the soft look in Dirk’s eyes that he meant it. She was busting his chops, and he was answering her with kindness.
    “Sorry,” she said. “I just...”
    “I know. Me, too.”
    Savannah shook her head. “No, you don’t know. I just spent the afternoon with Tesla. She’s a doll, a real lady. I knew she was worried, and I wasn’t able to draw it out of her.”
    ‘You talked to her. You did what you could. It wasn’t exactly the best of circumstances to interview somebody, what with you being undercover and all.”
    “I should have pressed her. I should have dropped the stupid charade and taken her aside and done what it took to get her to talk to me.”
    “Shoulda, coulda, woulda... water under the bridge. We’ll find her.”
    Savannah winced as she looked around the room and contemplated what sort of violence it would have taken to accomplish this mess. What sort of pain would be inflicted on a body that was being bounced off furniture and walls like that.
    “At least there’s no blood,” Dirk added, kneeling down and looking at the floor. “He’s getting cocky. Didn’t even bother to clean up this time.”
    “ He?”
    “Yeah, he.” Looking up at her, he gave her a wink. “You’re right, of course. It’s almost always one of us worthless dudes that done it.”
    “I wouldn’t say you guys are worthless,” she said, “just...”
    Her voice trailed away as she knelt beside the rust-colored suede sofa and stared at a dark spot on the cushion.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    She pulled a latex glove out of her purse and slipped it on. Then she carefully dabbed at the spot with one fingertip.
    Holding up the finger, she showed him the dark red smudge on the glove. “Looks like we spoke too soon.”
     

Chapter
    12
     
    O rdinarily, having an assortment of the people she loved most in the world around her table was Savannah’s favorite pastime. She found it fun to feed almost anyone, let alone her favorite folks.
    But tonight, the mood was less celebratory than usual with the meeting of the official Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency gang. Two unsolved murders and a third missing woman could put a damper on any party.
    Savannah sat at the head of the table with Dirk at the foot. To her right was Tammy, her notebook computer on the table in front of her. And to Savannah’s left sat a couple of the most attractive and heartbreakingly unattainable men she knew: Ryan Stone and John Gibson.
    With his stunning good looks and winning smile, the tall, dark, and handsome Ryan could have done anything from acting to shaving commercials to squiring wealthy ladies to social events for big bucks.
    But both he and John, his life partner, had taken early retirements from the FBI and now spent their time doing private investigations and providing security for the rich, famous, and powerful—when they weren’t summering on the French Riviera, cruising the Mediterranean, or exploring the Amazon jungle with a shaman guide.
    Savannah and Tammy were both madly in love with Ryan and the older—but no less delicious—silver-haired British fox, John... for all the good it did them. To their dismay, no amount of feminine wiles had altered either man’s sexual orientation. But Savannah had finally decided that simply being adored by these two