DETECTIVE Rosen had called and filled in the Newburgh Heights Police Department when they realized Hannah Messinger might have been taken from the liquor store. O’Dell had accompanied Dr. Holmes, and Rosen had stayed behind at the truck stop, gathering evidence, so Tully decided to accompany Manx and his men. After not being impressed with Manx’s foot-dragging on the McGowan case, Tully knew he should be here if any evidence showed up.

He waited for one of Manx’s officers to jimmy the lock on the back door. From this position in the alley, Tully recognized the back of Mama Mia’s Pizza Place on the corner. A shiny new Dumpster replaced the one they had found Jessica Beckwith in. Perhaps it was the owner’s way of getting rid of any memories. What would they think when they found that another woman had been murdered only several stores away?

“We tried to get hold of the owner,” Manx interrupted Tully’s thoughts. “He’s out of town, won’t be able to get back until late tomorrow. His wife said Messinger was taking care of things.”

Tully reached for his glasses and noticed the officer was making a mess of the door’s lock. Finally something clicked just as the door handle came loose and fell off.

Manx found a light switch and the entire shop lit up, aisle by aisle. It didn’t take much time to realize nothing seemed to be out of place. The cash register had been shut down and locked up. Even the Closed sign had been turned on. There was no indication of forced entrance.

“He may have grabbed her while she was walking to her car,” Manx said, scratching his head.

An officer took off to check the alley, while the other started rummaging through the storeroom.

“Rosen filled me in, told me about O’Dell.”

Tully stopped and glanced over at Manx from behind the counter. The detective’s bulldog features softened. He actually looked sympathetic, if that was possible.

“Now maybe you’ll understand,” Tully said, “why she’s been overly anxious about your investigation of the McGowan woman’s disappearance.”

“Well, I figure there might be a reason to rethink the Endicott case, too.” Manx hesitated as though making a major concession. “I’ve got copies of the case file for you in my car.”

“Detective,” the officer from the storeroom called out. He appeared at the door, his face pale and his eyes wide. “There’s a wine cellar below the storeroom. I think you better take a look.”

Tully followed Manx. They started down the narrow steps, only a bare lightbulb to guide the way. But Tully didn’t need to see anything to know they had found the murder site. No farther than the third or fourth step, he could smell the blood, and he knew his stomach was not ready for what was below.