The Truth About Comfort Cove

The air in the hospital was cool. Lucy shivered and wished she had a blanket with her.

The elevator hadn’t binged once since she’d been out there. But then, she was at the visitors’ elevator and visiting hours were over.

“It’s not your fault, Lucy.”

“What isn’t?” But she knew what he meant. He was talking about Sandy. About exposing her to Wakerby.

“You did what you had to do to put the guy away. You couldn’t leave him out on the street.”

She could have risked the DNA holding up in court. But if Wakerby had walked? Then what?

“Why do the victims pay so much?”

“Why are there victims at all?”

She couldn’t answer that.

“Are you home?” He’d asked where she was. She wanted to know where he was.

“Not yet.”

“You’re still at the office?”

“No.”

“Where, then?” She needed to picture him. To feel him closer.

“I’m driving.”

“You went to Walkers’s place again.”

“I have to understand what drove him to do what he did.”

It was like Lionel had said earlier that day. You had to get inside the perp to know how to hurt him where it counted.

And it had to count. Making it count was all they had.

“I’ll get to UC on Monday, Ramsey.” Walker was driving him. But so was Claire Sanderson. Because he knew Cal Whittier. Because Frank was soon going to be back in the school system. With access to children every day.

Because they’d both met Emma Sanderson.

Because Claire was a precocious two-year-old who deserved to not disappear without a trace.

And neither did Allie…

“I’ve pulled eight days in a row,” Ramsey said.

The man hadn’t taken a full day off that she knew of since she’d met him the previous spring. And they talked several times a week, so she knew a lot.

“On shift.”

Okay, that was different. That was current cases, nonstop. In addition to cold-case work.

“I’ve been ordered to take a few days off.”

“I concur.”

“I have something to do Sunday, but I’m thinking I’ll fly into Cincinnati on Monday. If you’re fr