The Maze

used in Boston. I don't doubt that even though the lumber can't be identical, the technique will be, and thus perhaps the presiding judge will allow it to be used as evidence in Marlin Jones's trial, if and when the man stands trial.

    "So, the bottom-line results of my test are inconclusive. There are differences, aberrations. I must tell you that I have seen it happen before, and for no logical reason.

    "I hope this is of assistance to you, but given the reason for your request I doubt that you are overjoyed. My best to Savich."

    Savich said nothing, merely took in her pallor, the stark disappointment in her eyes, the hopelessness that seemed to be draining her. He wished it could be different, but it wasn't. He said finally, "Ralph said it himself. Inconclusive. It doesn't nail down the coffin lid, Sherlock."

    "I know," she said and didn't sound as though she believed it. "He didn't write this in his letter, but Mr. York said on the phone just a few minutes ago that all the same particulars with the other murder props were completely identical. It was just with murder number four where there were inconsistencies."

    "That's something," Savich said. "Look, Sherlock, either Marlin did it or he didn't. As to Marlin claiming he killed only six women in San Francisco, Belinda not included, then someone else did. You're not happy, are you?"

    She just shook her head. "I wanted to be certain once and for all and it's still not proven, either way. Can you think of anything else to do?" But she didn't look at him, just stared down at her low-heeled navy pumps.

    "Not at the moment, but I'll think about it some more. Now let's get back to the Radnich case." He wished he could let her mull over her sister's murder, but there were too many demands on the Unit. He needed her.

    "Yes. Thank you for giving me all this time. Ollie also said there was a new murder spree, a couple of black guys killing Asian people in Alabama and Mississippi."

    "Yes. We'll talk about it in the meeting this afternoon." He watched her leave his office. He tapped his pen on the desktop. She'd lost weight she couldn't afford to lose. He didn't like it. Even though he saw the results of it in the families of victims, he still couldn't begin to imagine what it must feel like to have lost someone you loved in such a horrible way. He shook himself. He turned to MAXINE and typed in a brief note to his friend James Quinlan, then e-mailed it to him.

    Lacey stopped outside Savich's office and leaned against the wall. It was too much and not nearly enough. She had to go to Boston again. She had to speak to Marlin Jones one more time. She had to make him tell her the truth, she had to. She looked up to see Hannah staring at her. "Why are you so pale? You look like someone's punched you. Actually, you look like you're coming down with the flu."

    She just shook her head. "I'm fine. It's the case I'm working on. Things are inconclusive and I hate that."

    Hannah said, "Yes, that's always a bitch, isn't it? How's your arm?"

    "What? Oh, my arm's fine."

    "How are you feeling after that hit-and-run driver nearly hit you the other day? That must have been pretty bad."

    "It was, but not as bad as this. I think it was just an accident, some drunk guy who probably was so scared that he nearly hit someone that he couldn't wait to roar away from me. The cops said the three numbers I saw on the license plate didn't lead anywhere. Too many possibilities. It could have happened to anybody. I was just the lucky one."

    "Did you hurt your arm again?"

    "Just banged it up a bit more, no big deal."

    "Savich isn't busy now, is he?"

    "I don't know." She walked away, thinking about who had had access to all the crime details in San Francisco.

    She sat at her desk and stared at the blank computer screen. She heard a sound and turned to see Hannah standing by the water cooler, frowning at her. It was more than a frown, and Lacey felt a brief burst of cold run through her. She forced herself back to the Radnich case, but there was nothing new there. Another murder and her old-woman theory hadn't washed. The afternoon meeting was canceled because Savich had an emergency meeting with their assistant director, Jimmy Maitland. She was still puzzling over the newest developments in the Mississippi/Alabama cases, when she heard Savich behind her. "It's after six. It's time for you to hang it up. Let's go work out."

    She stared up at him blankly. "Work out?"

    "Yeah, I bet you