t the Oak Room, two martinis before his associates arrived, eyes constantly

seeking attention. The black dress revealed just enough-professional yet enticing. The blo

artender when Walsh glanced my way

my phone. Creating the right opening was crucial-Walsh

ly" made eye contact, holding it a beat longer than casual

int broken capillaries in his nose that his social media photos had carefully filtered out. The e

herine Pierce, recently divorced wealth management consultant. Successful e

e absence of his wedding ring. Unlike Coleman, who'd

his hand, allowing the con

"The Oak Room is generally fille

uating venues for a client dinner ne

the suggestion of a wealthy

lied. "Private clients, hi

condescending terms, clearly assuming my position must be more administrative than executive. I played

o a table where three men in expensive suits had gathered. "But I'm here

liberately noncommittal.

ike Walsh weren't accustomed to uncertai

ss card. "Call my private line. I know al

ing his fingers with m

ns. Phase one complete. Next Thursday, I would allow him to "convince" me to have dinner. The week after, drink

judgment

ail I'd noted during my preliminary research. In the car, I removed the wig and changed into a plain blouse kept

und fibers on victim #2. Synthetic, blue. Possib

ns carefully. The irony wasn't lost on me-hunting one predator while pursui

s behaviors, weaknesses, patterns. Preparation was everything. In both my

they aged or questioned his behaviors. His current wife, Sophia, only 28 to his 52, smiled vacantly from their recen

d to their images. "Before the end, he'll

ty beside her, the note expressing her shame and worthlessness after my father's betrayal became public know

tice. Together, we maintained the balance in a world design

therine Pierce back to Detective Elise Blackwood. Tomorrow would bring p

ntinued on