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The lab confirmed the pictures were definitely doctored…without question…amateurish.

“Definitely not a professional photographer. Anyone could do it with a computer,” Adele down in the lab stated. “Somebody wanted to discredit the young lady. It would be a start.”

Brophy stood with his back against the wall. He eyed him carefully. Then he stepped toward the small table. He took a seat by the man.
“I believe you, Dr. Halliday. I understand how you became jealous. If I thought my fiancée posed for these pictures...”

Matthew shook his head.
“But you don’t understand. I knew. I knew she could never have posed for those pictures. It wasn’t Cameron.”

Brophy nodded.
“Everyone wants to believe the best in the ones they love.”

“
You just don’t understand.” Matthew sighed. “I ruined everything for her. She wanted to elope. She didn’t want a huge wedding. Just her and me. I talked her into waiting, getting an apartment. I wanted more time to convince Mother. Then, with the first sign of a problem, I abandoned her.”

“
I don’t understand how you could be so certain,” Waters pushed. “You have so much faith in her now, but not then?”

“
Those pictures would have had to been made before we met. And seeing the pictures, studying the pictures, I know better than anyone else it wasn’t possible that she could have been in them,” Matthew said bluntly. “I didn’t realize it, or put it together until recently.”

Brophy paused. He wasn’t certain he should state it out loud. To what end would it serve
? He pressed on. “How could you just figure out that it couldn’t be Cameron, if what you’re saying is true? You’re saying she hadn’t been with anyone before you, Dr. Halliday, if I’m to understand you.”

“
You know, I made quite a lot of mistakes here. I didn’t look at all the pictures. I saw that one.” He pointed to the one where the woman posed nude, spread eagle on a bed. “My mother did the rest. I was convinced I had been wronged. I didn’t realize the full extent of her influence. I certainly didn’t realize she had taken Cameron’s furniture. I have a lot to make up for in Cameron’s eyes.”

Brophy tried to contain his surprise. He would even suppose Cameron would forgive him? He bit his tongue.
“Let’s go back, Dr. Halliday. How did you discover your mistake?”

Matthew hesitated.
“My precious wife discovered them. She didn’t know who the pictures were supposed to be of. She thought it was just porn. She laughed at the pictures. It was the first time I had looked at them. Studied them. Then I knew without a doubt. The body that’s supposed to be Cameron’s—it didn’t have a mole. Cameron has a mole on her back. Here.” He pointed to just below the girl’s waist on her back.

“
When was that? Just over six months ago? And the key to the apartment?” Waters continued.

“
Typical Cameron, she never changed the locks,” Matthew answered. “Look, I’ve been worried about Cameron since I’ve been trying to reconnect. That’s why I asked Nevy to help me.”

“
Why, Dr. Halliday?” Brophy asked.

He didn’t get another chance to ask a question. A gray
-haired older gentleman dressed in a tailor-cut suit opened the door. “This is over, gentleman. I’m Oliver Stanton, his lawyer. Come on, now, Matthew.”

“
Wait just a minute, Oliver. Cameron is in trouble. I need to help her. After all we’ve done to her, we owe her. I don’t have anything to hide,” Matthew said stubbornly.

Oliver Stanton turned to his client.
“Keep your damn mouth closed. Have you not figured out they’re trying to hang a murder rap on you? Are you still interested in helping?”

Matthew looked at Brophy. He hesitated as he stood.

Stanton walked out in the hallway
 and gestured to the doctor to follow him. He turned to Brophy.
“Unless he’s being charged with anything, we’re leaving.”

Darren nodded
to Waters to let them leave as he stood in the hall. He didn’t feel he had enough to charge anyone at the moment. They needed more before arresting Dr. Halliday.

Matthew hung his head as he walked out. He leaned into Brophy so his lawyer couldn’t hear him.
“I don’t like her roommates. And she was seeing someone new, a Darren. I don’t know a last name. I hope that helps.”

“
Matthew!” Oliver Stanton had lost his temper with his client. “Let’s go or I’m going to leave you here.”

On the road… again. This time Brophy and Waters followed up on a search warrant already being executed on their friend Nevy. The security guard lived in a small one
-bedroom apartment in Somerset. Nothing more than a rundown apartment building. The broken buzzer made no difference in obtaining entrance. The door had been jammed opened, a far cry from the hills of Wellesley.

Stepping over trash left in the hallways, Brophy and Waters walked down the stairs to Nevy’s basement apartment. A
god-awful stench billowed from the apartment the moment they opened the door. Brophy winced.

“
My God!” he cried. “What the hell is that smell?”

“
As far as we can tell, a couple of dead cats in the closet.” Detective Mark Logan greeted the two. “Have no earthly idea why someone would keep dead cats, but we did find something of interest I thought you guys would want to see.”

Brophy followed Logan into the bedroom. Pictures scattered across the floor, pictures of Cameron entering the hospital, exiting her apartment.
Some more were of Cameron talking with peers at the hospital. Brophy bent down and picked up a picture of Cameron exiting a black Lexus. The license plate was clearly in view. He knew it well. He casually slid it in his pocket, not unnoticed by Waters.

“
Sonofabitch,” Waters exhaled.

“
We already have Nevy in custody. I can’t wait to hear his reasoning about this,” Waters said. He directed his attention to Logan. “Anything else?”

“
Found some papers, a certificate from a university in South Africa somewhere. Nevy has dual citizenship. His father was American. Did you know he graduated from medical school? Not that I think for a minute that it was recognized over here,” Logan offered. He held a frame he had taken off the wall.

“
No, Nevy hadn’t mentioned that little fact. I believe we need to have another talk with our friend,” Waters said.

* * * *

Brophy noticed immediately that Centrello sat behind his desk drumming his fingers. His boss had just hung up the phone. Looking up at the clock, he motioned for the two detectives to enter. Brophy casually strolled through, followed by Waters. It was a quarter to seven, long past time to go home. Brophy plopped down in a hard backed chair.

“
So, boys, what do we have? Where are we?”

Brophy shrugged.
“Don’t know if we have anything. I can honestly say I think we could rule people in, only to rule them out. Then rule them back in again. Someone looks good, and then have Dr. Levy say he doesn’t think it could be him. I’ve never been on a case like this. Basically, we have absolutely zip, nada, nothing.”

“
Nothing?” Centrello asked. “Just got off the phone with Breton. The FBI hasn’t had any luck with the kid’s computer. Even after taking every precaution they could think of, the virus corrupted most of the files. Been over a week and they are still working on it, trying to salvage what they can. Now tell me about this girl. Where are we with her?”

“
I don’t see how this girl will help us. The FBI thinks she’s the link, but we have absolutely nothing solid to base it on. For all we know, she could be the mastermind behind some diabolic scheme, nothing more than an innocent bystander, or she could be a link to a psychotic mind.”

Brophy breathed out heavily. His frustration needed an outlet. Then
, as if a thought crossed his mind, he gestured with his hand to continue. “Okay, I’ll backtrack a little. The girl is the only link we feel we have, but we don’t know what kinda link that is. We have round-the-clock detail on her. The FBI has linked up to her computer, to catch any further communication that may come from our suspected killer. It just feels like we’re spinning our wheels.”

Waters spoke up.
“The FBI has background on everyone who has known contact with her. There are no red flags. We are looking for what they consider to be a man between twenty-five to thirty-five, of above average intelligence. That’s about every male she’s around between work, doctors, nurses, old boyfriend, and roommates. No police record, nothing to draw off of.”

“
She doesn’t recall any abnormal occurrences before the night of the Caputo murder,” Brophy added.

“
What does Dr. Levy say about the killer? Do we or don’t we have any suspects?” Centrello asked as he picked up a notepad and immediately threw it back down. “Where do we stand? Do we wait until he kills again?”

“
Working with Dedham, Cambridge, and the FBI, we have come to the conclusion that we don’t think that the victims knew the killer personally before the meeting. The only connection is the Facebook conversation that wasn’t corrupted with Caputo, which brings us back to Zach Quinn. And that leads us to his sister,” Brophy said.

Waters interrupted.
“We have the good Dr. Halliday, who claims he is trying to protect the girl. And his friend, Nevy, who we discovered is a double agent. He double-crossed the good doctor. He took five thousand from our good doctor, and another twenty from the good doctor’s mother.”

“
I thought the FBI’s suspect is Caucasian and lived in Virginia a few years ago?”

Brophy nodded.
“Theirs is. Doesn’t mean this is the same guy. It would mean this killer stopped killing for four years. Then started up again here in Boston. Or, it could mean our killer Googled unsolved killings, and copycatted the Virginia suspect.

“
The problem is we don’t have anything to physically connect anyone to the scenes. The issue I have is that nothing fits. The puzzle pieces don’t fit in any direction.”

“
Then you have to make it fit, Brophy. You need to think outside the box,” Centrello said. “I told you from the beginning I want this. This is ours. You both need to figure it out. You don’t have a choice.”

“
How the hell am I supposed to have any fucking idea? We have three sadistic murders, two without any evidence, one that could have been a setup, and an attempted abduction of a girl? It doesn’t make sense.”

“
Then you better come up with an idea, Brophy. We’re missing something.”

“
So we need to go along with the FBI’s plan. You realize that to implement it, the killer needs to contact the girl again. Dr. Levy firmly believes he will. He believes he has a psychological need for the girl,” Brophy said. He felt a vibration on his belt buckle. Raising his hand, he paused the conversation immediately when he saw the text.

“
Well,” Brophy said, standing. “The wheels might be turning again. The kid’s car has been found.”

“
Where?”

“
Right outside Beth Israel. The psycho menace parked it right out front of the West Campus door.”

* * * *

Cameron slammed her cell phone down. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to Meghan scold her for using her garage or her veiled threats.

“
Go ahead, Meghan, have Joel prosecute me for using your garage. Go ahead. Explain how I had access to it in the first place. Don’t try to use
you were trying to help a friend in need out.
God forbid! I don’t know, he might think you were some kind of friend or something. I can’t deal with this at the moment. Do you have any idea what I’m going through?”

“
I can’t believe you dragged me into this mess.” Meghan’s voice echoed through the phone. “Did you know the FBI came and interviewed us about you and Zach? Joel is furious about our association. As soon as the car’s back, I can’t have any more contact with you.”

Cameron couldn’t take anymore. She didn’t want to hear Meghan’s voice anymore. She clicked off without so much as a good-bye. She put her phone back in her pocket. Her phone rang again
: a text. She ignored it—probably Meghan trying to confirm she would still take care of the car.

Fifteen more minutes
, and then she would be off. Another day she lived through. Work had been a safe haven for her, but even here an underlying tension had developed. No one knew exactly what was happening. Everyone had been interviewed and re-interviewed by the FBI, Boston Police Department, or both. Her supervisor had asked her to come in her office after she got off. The walls felt as if they were closing in around her.

She walked in the office. Before she even had time to sit down, Margaret Sullivan began.
“Look, Cameron, you know how much I think of you. This has absolutely nothing to do with your performance, but the administration has requested that you take an extended leave until this matter gets settled.”

Speechless, Cameron hadn’t been prepared for this.
“Why? What have I done?”

Margaret shook her head.
“Cameron, it’s not you. It’s your situation. They said requested, but you don’t have a choice in the matter. The hospital is concerned about patient safety. Although the administration has been understanding, having a police detail constantly in the hallways, waiting rooms, and the cafeteria is a source of concern. Patients feel uneasy; visitors—even your peers—have expressed concern about their own safety. Given the situation, they think this extended leave is the best course of action. As soon as the police and FBI give their clearance, you are free to come back to work. I hope you understand.”

“
Until when?” Cameron asked, taken aback. “There may be no end soon. I have no control.”

“
I’m sorry, Cameron. It’s not my decision. Since this is our request, at least for the first week, it will be a paid leave. You don’t have to use your earned time. You need to think about your patients and peers. Think of it as a paid vacation.”

Cameron contained her emotions, although they raged within her. She wanted to say:
isn’t that what I always do? Think of others?
But she said nothing.

She cleaned out her locker. Her co-workers seemed to ignore her, as if she didn’t exist. Comprehension sank deep into her. They knew. They knew before she did.
Don’t think about it. Just leave.
She grabbed her purse, and coat, and walked out of the unit.

The uniform
ed officer assigned to her jumped off his chair as she swept by. He chased behind her while she ran down the stairs. She glanced back once at the sound of the young officer stumbling. He regained his footing, and she pushed out the door into the lobby. Sighing, she slowed her pace.

The weather visible through the open glass wall showed the fog and drizzle of the evening. She nodded toward Todd, the security guard, at the front desk. Under the overhead cover, she hesitated momentarily, waiting for her escort
, who bumped into her as he raced out the door.

She stopped in her tracks
, staring straight in front of her. Across the street, parked illegally to the side of the walk-in garden, was a blue Escape, shining through the gray fog. The Eastern University sticker on the bumper left no doubt.

“
Call Detective Brophy,” she said.

* * * *

Deaconess Road was blocked off. Brophy would have liked to have closed Joslin Road, but access to the emergency room would have been affected. No cars were allowed to leave. Longwood Avenue had been further backed up, due to all the law enforcement responding to the call. The bomb squad had been dispatched to clear the vehicle. As soon as they gave their okay, the SUV was pulled up on the flat top, and transported downtown to be processed out of the elements.

“
The car’s immaculate. Looks brand new, Brophy,” Waters said. He watched while the street reopened. “What do you have? Where’s the girl?”

“
I have her waiting in the security office. The hospital’s lead officer, Lieutenant Ferria, is going over the security tapes. You remember Ferria. He retired from the force and started here at the hospital police department.”

“
Excuse me,” a voice called from behind Brophy. “Excuse me. I’m looking for a Detective Brophy. Lieutenant Ferria sent me to find a Detective Brophy.”

Brophy turned. An older gentleman stood in front of him, short with a head full of gray hair, an unbuttoned light jacket, and blue dress shirt, dark pants, and trench coat loose around him.

“I’m Chris Liebman.”

“
I’m Detective Brophy,” Brophy said. “You have something to tell me?”

“
You are in charge? I need to tell this to who’s in charge. Lieutenant Ferria, you are aware, is in charge of our police department here at BI . I saw something he thought would be of interest to you.”

“
Go ahead.” Brophy motioned. “I’m listening.”

“
I didn’t think much of it at the time. This area is widely known for the traffic. Cars block up the street. Stopping in the middle of a one-way or park to one side, waiting for patients to be discharged. Sometimes it’s someone giving an employee a ride. I was walking from the East Campus crossing through the gardens, when I ran into the driver of a blue Escape. I’m not sure if it was the same one you are interested in.”

“
What time was it?”