OUR CUPS OF coffee and a stale breakfast burrito later, Decker pushed back from the table where he had been going over all aspects of the case and hit the john. When he came out, Alex Jamison was leaning against the wall, apparently waiting for him.

She looked up at him, her arms folded across her chest, her heel tapping against the dulled linoleum.

“I guess I missed my flight out of here,” she said.

“There’s always another one.”

“Maybe. Maybe I’ll go someplace warm. When we’re all done here.”

“This is not your fight. Or your concern.”

“Don’t even go there, Decker.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you. Let you know that I was still working the case. And Miller called me. He knew I went with you to the institute and that I was with you when you found Sizemore.”

“So?”

Miller appeared from around the corner. “So I thought another pair of fresh eyes on this sucker can’t hurt. I’m not too proud to ask for help.” He pointed at the two of them. “So why don’t you get to it?”

“She’s not on the force.”

“Neither are you,” shot back Jamison.

“Where’s Lancaster?” asked Decker.

“Where she should be, with her family. Now go!”

Decker reluctantly led Jamison back to the room and they started going back over the statements given to the police. Both were from neighbors of the Lancasters.

An old woman and a dog.

And a dog. Nonthreatening. Something folks would just gloss over, not remember unless specifically asked.

He dialed up his DVR and went back over the canvassing reports from his neighborhood that the police had undertaken after the murders of his family.

No old woman with a dog. But there had been an old man seen out for a stroll. He had been described as slightlybent, feeble, supported by a cane and totally at odds with the violent slaughter that had occurred that night, no doubt perpetrated by a strong homicidal man in his prime.

Totally innocuous. Nobody gave him a second thought. Nobody wondered who he was. Or why he was there that night.

Including me.

There had been no forced entry at the Lancasters’. They’d apparently walked right in.

An old woman in disguise. An old man in disguise. His killer seemed to be a true chameleon.

Decker glanced back at the file on the Lancasters.

Walked right in.

He thought back to last night. The house had been neat and tidy. Mary had been working impossible hours. Earl, he knew, while a competent contractor, had his hands full with their daughter, Sandy. He didn’t see the guy vacuuming, dusting, and doing the dishes every five minutes.

He rose from the table and headed out. He had questions that needed answers. He had apparently forgotten that Jamison was even there until she said, “Where are we going?”

“I’m going somewhere. I don’t know where you’re going.”

“But I’m safer with you, right?”

Decker struggled to find a reply to this but then just gave up.

Jamison held up her keys. “And unlike you, I have a car.”

“No, you have half a car.”

Decker stalked out, with Jamison scurrying after him.

* * *

Against her wishes, Lancaster also had been placed in protective custody and was staying in a house rented by the FBI and guarded both by local Burlington cops and Bureau agents.

Decker cleared the security and entered the house with Jamison. Little Sandy had run forward and thrown her arms around Decker’s legs. Not knowing what else to do, he had patted her on the head until she let go, stared straight up at him, and said, “You’re Amos Decker!”

“I know I am. And you’re Sandra Elizabeth Lancaster.”

She had wagged a finger at him. “I know I am.” Then she ran off, with her bedraggled father trying to keep up behind her.

Decker and Jamison had sat down opposite Lancaster, who eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

“Like Decker here, I’m a consultant on the case.”

“I never knew a case to have so many consultants,” said Lancaster. Then she settled her gaze on Decker. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing,” said Decker.

“Those heartless pricks. What they did at my house. Re-create your crime scene.”

Jamison shot Decker a startled look.

“You didn’t know?” asked Lancaster.

“No,” said Jamison quietly.

“Fortunately for us, they used mannequins instead of real people,” said Lancaster. She shivered, took out a pack of smokes, and then put them away again. Decker eyed her. She said, “I’m trying to quit. For Sandy’s sake.”

“Secondhand smoke?” said Jamison.

“No, I never smoke in the house or car. I meant I wanted to be alive to see her grow up. Especially after…”

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a tissue, and dabbed at her eyes as she looked away, embarrassed.

She stuffed the tissue back into her pocket and said, “I don’t want to be here. I want to be working the case. Those bastards came into my house and did that. I want them more than I’ve wanted anyone in my whole career.”

“Did you or Earl hire a cleaning service for your house?” Decker asked.

She looked puzzled. “A cleaning service?”

“I know how security-conscious you are, especially with Sandy. How she got out of the house that one time and you didn’t find her for hours.”

“What is your point, Decker?” she snapped.

“No forced entry at your house. They just walked in, Mary. I wonder how that could be, unless someone had a key. Earl and Sandy had gone out. He locked up, right?”

“Yes, he always does. And you’re right, Earl did hire a maid service, but they don’t have a key to our house. We’d never have allowed that. Earl knew when they were coming and he let them in.”

“But once in the house, could someone posing as a maid have gotten access to a key, made a copy of it, and used it to enter the house later?”

“But how would they know he’d even hired a maid?”

“If they were watching the house they could see the car or van pull up. They usually have signs on them.”

“But how could they impersonate a maid?”

“Call the service and ask them if someone posing as you or Earl called and canceled them coming on one of their workdays.”

“Decker, do you really—”

“It’s just a phone call, Mary. And it might be a break for us. You said you wanted to be working the case. So work.”

She slipped out her phone and called the maid service. From the words she spoke, Decker knew the answer before she hung up.

“You were right, Amos. They got a call saying not to come.”

“So that’s when the fake maid came and made an impression of the key. You keep your keys where?” said Decker.

“On hooks by the side door.”

“I saw a calendar on your fridge. It has everybody’s schedule?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s how they knew Earl and Sandy would be out that night.”

“I can’t believe the person who did all this was in my house,” said Lancaster, staring at her hands. “I just can’t believe it.” She glanced up. “That means Earl has seen the killer. Maybe—”

Decker shook his head. “The person won’t look anything like Earl’s description now. They’re too smart for that, Mary.”

Decker rose and looked down at her. Jamison followed suit. “Will you be okay here?” he asked.

“We’ll be safe, if that’s what you mean.”

“Right now, that’s what I mean.”

“I’m lucky, Amos. My family is alive.”

“This was a warning, Mary. A warning to me. I didn’t do what they wanted me to do. There will be no more warnings. Which means I have to get to them, before they get to anyone else.”

He turned to leave with Jamison.

“Where are you going now?” Lancaster stared at him like he was the last person left on earth except for her. If Decker could have felt sympathy, he would have been deeply moved.

“To look at a video one more time.”

“What video?”

“Of someone getting out of a car.”