Sheriff Dan Grayson was in a foul mood as he stalked down the hallway to his office. It didn’t help that one of his best detectives was suggesting the irrational.“Grace Perchant knows something,” Alvarez, at his side, insisted.“Trust me, she doesn’t know up from sideways.” He’d been in Spokane going over the notes and records of the copycat killer who’d been captured by the Spokane authorities and had been up most of the night. Early this morning he’d returned to find that not only had Pescoli’s wrecked Jeep been located, but now there was another car impounded that could be part of a possible crime, a red Saturn registered to another missing woman. And Alvarez, one of his most down-to-earth detectives, was suggesting they take advice from Grace She-Who-Talks-to-Ghosts Perchant.Christ, this was a mess.“Grace called. She’d had a dream—”“Oh, for the love of God, that’s it? A dream. Look, I don’t give a damn if she hung upside down by her toes like a sleeping, rabid bat!
