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“She couldn’t make a positive ID from the lineup,” I said.

“That’s been bothering me,” he said. “From what we know, she’s the potential victim who had the most one-on-one contact with this guy. I mean, she slept with him. But even Amy Pasko admitted he looked a lot different from when she saw him with her sister. Shaved head. Gained weight.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling confident about Amy’s ID,” I said. “I’m telling you, if she takes the stand, I don’t think she’ll survive a robust cross-examination. I’d feel a whole lot better about this if Corrine could have made a positive ID.”

“Unless we’re dealing with two different perpetrators,” Roy said. “We’ve both been doing this long enough not to make assumptions. We’re at the tip of the iceberg in this. We don’t know if Palicki acted alone. I’d really like Corrine to come back in and take another crack at it.”

“But there’s been nothing so far to point to an accomplice,” I said. “And you’re going to risk tainting her testimony if she makes a positive ID now.”

“I still want to talk to her again, now that we’ve got more evidence to work with.”

Roy opened a second file on his laptop marked Palicki Interview One. The footage started as Daniel Palicki was brought into a dingy interview room. The camera was placed at his eye level, just behind the detective’s shoulder.

Daniel Palicki was handsome. There was no denying it. He had cold, piercing brown eyes, just like Amy Pasko had described. Strong jaw. A cleft in his chin. If he grew out his hair, he would be an obvious match to the police sketch. At the same time, Palicki looked nothing like Lock. The sketch, however, looked like both of them somehow.

“I know you know why you’re here, Danny,” McCallister said. “And you know I’ve got law enforcement searching your house and car as we speak. You want to come out in front of this?”

Nothing. No reaction. Palicki shifted in his chair to make himself more comfortable. He looked directly into the camera and smirked. It felt like he was looking straight at me. For the remaining ten minutes of the interview, he didn’t alter his gaze. He didn’t ask for a lawyer. He said nothing at all. Finally, Detective McCallister realized the exercise was getting her nowhere. She ended the interview.

Roy clicked off the screen.

“This was good work,” he said. “I think everyone’s happy with what we’ve accomplished so far.”

“So far?” I said.

“If and when we match those girls to the evidence we found at Palicki’s house, we’ll be able to retrace his digital steps. We can work on finding out who else he might have matched with on that app. Though it’s been tough to get the app developers to cooperate.”

“This is different,” I said. “You can show a pattern. You can make a case that the app itself was used to solicit these women. If you can show he had no other access to them except through the app. He didn’t meet them in a bar. They weren’t close by. Not women he would have met casually out and about. But for WhisprMatch, he wouldn’t have had a way to contact them. It’s almost like the app itself aided and abetted.”

“Can you write the subpoena?” Roy asked.

I nodded. “You’ll need a motion and brief in support. But they’re going to claim lack of jurisdiction pretty much anywhere you file it since the thing’s probably hosted in a foreign country. There are ways around that. They’re doing business here. Their users are here. Give me a couple of days and I can have something for you.”

“We can probably get you help on that,” Roy said. “Researchers. Paralegals. This is the kind of thing the Feds might write a blank check for.”

“I can get started and let you know,” I said.

Roy’s cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID and frowned. “I gotta take this. Give me one second.”

He stepped out of the room. Roy left a stack of photos on the table containing screenshots from the footage we’d just watched. I reached for them. I worked my way through them until I found the photo of the fourth shoebox, containing the spool of red silk. I looked closer.

The fabric was identical to what I wore around my own wrist. No. Not again. I would not go down that road. But Daniel Palicki was behind bars. The police were accumulating more and more evidence against him. We were so close to being able to deliver justice for these poor women. Every ridiculous fear I harbored had turned into nothing. There was no connection between Corrine Egan, Lara Pasko, Jade Darby, Gretchen Small, and me.

Roy came back in. “That was McCallister. They’ve dug out the rest of the body under the floorboards.”

His phone rang again. Roy held up a finger and excused himself to take the call.

I flipped through the photos again. All these women. Four now. What had been done to them? Were they tortured? Did they know what was happening to them? I heard Roy’s muffled voice as he spoke to his caller. I kept landing on the photo of the spool of ribbon. Why did Palicki have it? What was its significance? I knew what mine meant and I cherished it. I hated that this case had forever tarnished my feelings for it.

“That was Corrine,” Roy said as he came back. “She said she hasn’t been able to sleep since she looked at the lineup.”

“Does she think she recognizes Palicki now?” I asked.

“No,” Roy said. “But she said she kept something from her weekend with Matt Woodson. Something she was afraid to give to the police until now. She says she thinks it could have his DNA on it. If she’s right, and it matches Palicki, she could still make a powerful witness. Do you see anything wrong with my thought process?”

“No,” I said. “It’s worth looking into.” It was. But it would also be one more concrete piece of evidence that would put my doubts to rest once and for all.

Roy’s phone buzzed one last time. “Sorry,” he said. “Just another fire I have to put out. It never ends.” He left the room.