Jane was pacing back and forth in her office the next morning, straightening up what the cleaning crew had messed up the night before. Basically, though, tidiness was the last thing she was interested in right now. She only did it because it was still better than sitting at her desk waiting for the phone to ring.

It had been two days now since Rosa Castillo's bones had turned up, and Elizabeth's call last night at 2 a.m. hadn't made her persistent insomnia any better. Her daughter had asked permission to take a paper cup and receipt found in the trash can with Rosa's bones to the ME's office for DNA testing. Jane, who was dead tired at this point, had said yes without even asking why and rolled over to the other side of the bed to go back to sleep.

Except that her mind then started working feverishly and had kept her awake for the next four hours. She had tried to call Elizabeth back, but three times it had immediately gone to voicemail, frustrating Jane beyond measure. There were many things she loathed about being a police officer. Not being able to reach a subordinate was pretty high on her list.

At 6 a.m., Jane woke Savarese and ordered him to go to the crime lab, pick up the evidence and bring it to Dr. Ross. He was then to wait there until Ross had personally taken the cells from the rim of the coffee cup and determined the DNA. Best-case scenario: Savarese came back with the identity of the person who had used the coffee mug.

If he should be so lucky, Jane thought, straightening a picture frame on the wall. Savarese hadn't called yet, and now she wished she'd pelt Elizabeth with questions about what it was all about, and hoped her protégé hadn't jumped the gun. Her biggest concern was that with each passing day, more people were getting involved in the investigation, always increasing the risk of a leak. She was grateful, though, that her two daughters had found something so quickly. But Jane knew if the got scent of the matter, she would be blamed for all of it.

Following her political instincts, Jane kept the Chief of Detectives informed of all developments, including this latest one. That Dolan had already called this morning to ask if the DNA had been evaluated yet, and what else Elizabeth and Katherine had found out as well, only added to Jane's unease. During that call, she had grown a little bolder and had suggested to the Chief that, in retrospect, it had been nonsense to ban them from the BPD. After all, Elizabeth worked in the building and Katherine could be there for a thousand reasons that could easily explain her presence to sensationalist reporters. The Chief had agreed with her, and Jane had immediately ordered Katherine and Elizabeth to the BPD.

And that's exactly why she was now standing there staring at her cell phone. Where the hell were they?

She was about to call Elizabeth again when she sensed movement through the glass of her office door. The two were just coming down the hall, with Savarese in tow. Their serious expressions indicated that they hadn't just bumped into each other by chance and that something was wrong. "I take it you're not exactly from home," she said to her daughters once they were in her office with Savarese and had closed the door behind them.

"We met Savarese at the morgue," Elizabeth informed her.

"Without my permission?" said Jane, more exhausted than annoyed, as she took a seat at her desk.

Elizabeth shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "You authorized me to talk to Ross, so I didn't think it would make any difference."

Jane realized it actually didn't matter, and she dropped the subject. "Tell me they found DNA on that paper cup."

"That's right, boss," Savarese replied. "But there's a problem."

Katherine took the floor before Jane could say anything. "The sample wasn't enough to make a 100 percent match with anyone in the database."

"Crap," Jane said, closing her eyes and exhaling noisily. "So what now?"

"We've asked the lab to run the sample through the database in terms of a partial match," Katherine continued, "so we can see if someone might come up who fits our profile."

Jane rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. "And how many thousands of people turned up then?"

"Three," Elizabeth replied.

"Three thousand?"

"Three people," Elizabeth replied, putting on a grin that immediately disappeared, as her mother made it clear with a look that she didn't find it the least bit funny. "One is serving a life sentence for murder," she continued. "A second was released two years ago but is confined to a wheelchair because of multiple sclerosis. With number three, on the other hand, we may have gotten a hit."

Savarese handed Jane the folder he had with him, and the captain flipped it open. "His name is Jonah Welch," he said. "Did time in Suffolk County for breaking into a house, raping the occupant at gunpoint, and beating her half to death."

"When was that?" asked Jane with a slight frown.

"Twenty years ago in September," Elizabeth replied. "About a month after the first two bone finds."

Jane studied Welch's photo from the mug shot; it showed a handsome, dark-haired man in his twenties. "When did he get out?"

"Fifteen years ago," Elizabeth said.

"So he's been out for fifteen years," the captain muttered, then turned to Katherine. "Okay ... Doc, why would he wait so long to slaughter Rosa Castillo?"

"He wouldn't be the first," Katherine reminded her. "The 'Grim Sleeper' in California had always taken a long time between his murders. If Welch is our man, he might have cooled off in prison, and then something happened recently that rekindled his fire."

"Once a psychopath, always a psychopath," Jane remarked approvingly.

Elizabeth bent over her mother's desk and pulled out a still photograph from the folder. "This was taken by a surveillance camera at the deli where Rosa worked, two days before she disappeared. Her uncle confirmed to us that Rosa was sitting at the register when this man came in."

It was an enlarged shot of an older man with silver streaks in his hair. "Welch must be in his late fifties now," Savarese said.

Jane held the file photo up next to the security camera shot and furrowed her brows. "Yeah, he looks like shit, but that's what fifteen years in prison does to you. It's the same guy."

"We need to get him now," Elizabeth said, "before he cuts up another woman."

"We're not going anywhere," Jane ordered.

"But Ma -"

"Save the Ma, Liz. You know better than that. We'll do this right, with a warrant and with a special squad at two in the morning, when the guy's sound asleep."

"If you say so," Elizabeth countered in that smart-aleck tone that told Jane she had no intention of disagreeing further.

Jane nodded slowly. "Where does this guy live?"

"Jamaica Plain," Elizabeth replied.

"Get Simms, Lynch, and Nicacio," Captain ordered and Savarese nodded. "Get some surveillance vehicles from the narcs, go out to Jamaica Plain and tail this guy's place. I want to arrest him at night, but if he tries to run before then, we'll get him."

"Roger that, boss," Savarese said and walked out of the office.

Elizabeth and Katherine wanted to follow him, but Jane stopped them. "I'm not done with you two yet."

Katherine slowly turned back to her mother after exchanging quick meaningful glances with her sister. "Do you need us for anything else, ma'am?" she asked slowly.

"You bet I still need you," Jane said, looking her former star detective in the eye and imagining how her daughter must feel. "I'm not skipping you on this story, Liz. When our colleagues bring in the bastard, you'll take over the interrogation."

Elizabeth gritted her teeth briefly and nodded slowly. "I appreciate that, ma'am," she said gratefully.

"You stay on as well, Kate," Jane explained to her other daughter, rising from her chair. "You two go over Welch's file together, and you come up with a strategy for your sister when she puts the son of a bitch through the wringer."

But Elizabeth involuntarily thought something was wrong as her mother walked around her desk, wiping her palms on her pants and frowning deeply.

"All we have on Welch is this photo from the deli and a partial DNA match," Jane said. "In other words, the prosecution is going to say we don't have shit. So if you don't get him to confess, he could walk again."

"Did Dolan give his okay for me to do it?" asked Elizabeth, suddenly sensing betrayal.

"He suggested it," Jane replied, turning toward the window.

Now Elizabeth realized who the traitor was. "He needs a pawn, if necessary. And the cop with the already soiled reputation is expendable."

Jane swirled around, upset. "I'm not going to lie to you, you don't deserve that," she blurted out. "It's for the wrong reason, but it's still right. If anyone can make that son of a bitch talk, it's you."

Wrong reason or not, Elizabeth didn't care. If that was the price of getting back in the game, she was willing to pay it. "Don't worry," she replied, "I will."

Jane took a deep breath as she watched the door open and close again, then closed her eyes before clenching her teeth.

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"I don't get it," Katherine said without looking up from the piece of paper she was reading. It was after midnight, and the sisters were sitting at Elizabeth's desk.

Elizabeth sat in her chair and could no longer keep her mouth shut. "You don't get what?" she asked, putting a folder back in one of the boxes.

"How people can treat you like this after all you've accomplished. And why you're not upset about it."

The detective stood up and stretched. "I'm lucky they even let me do all this. I'd rather be here, no matter how they treat me, than get a new job and start all over again, Kate."

"They've got you over a barrel."

Elizabeth smiled wryly. "I've been in more predicaments, sis," the detective replied, sitting back down and flipping through papers to end the conversation. "This way, after all, I decide for myself what happens."

"What makes you think that?"

"I can get Welch to confess."

A yellowed form sheet on which detectives used to document all the steps of an investigation now caught Katherine's eye. "According to this report here, Jonah Welch didn't answer any of the questions detectives asked him at the time he was arrested."

"Because they had him by the balls," Elizabeth replied with furrowed brows. "Not only was the victim willing to testify in court, but they were also able to prove through expert testimony that a bite mark on the woman's left breast came from his teeth. And his blood type matched the semen they found in her." But the look on her sister's face told her something was bothering Katherine. "You're not convinced I'm going to get him to come forward with the truth?" she asked.

"He's been out of prison for fifteen years," the younger woman replied, scratching her chin. "Not once in that time has he been questioned or even suspected of a sex crime by the police. And no women suddenly disappeared shortly after his release."

"You mean he doesn't fit the profile of someone who would dismember women and boil their bones."

"I just don't see it," Katherine replied. She spread her arms over the sea of files and papers on the desk. "Nothing in any of this suggests a compulsion to dismember women. He hasn't missed one appointment with his parole officer, he's never left the state of Massachusetts, he works two jobs seven days a week, and the man is in his late fifties."

"Two jobs?" asked Elizabeth slowly, drawing her eyebrows together. "Where did you get that information?"

Katherine searched the records again and frowned a little. "From his last self-report for convicted sex offenders. He listed 'dishwasher' at a lunch counter in the Financial District and 'truck driver' at the Boston Globe."

"Truck driver?" asked Elizabeth. "Delivering newspapers is a night job."

Katherine's eyes grew wide. "Which means Welch might not be in his apartment when your team goes to arrest him."

"Or he might come home from work, see our guys waiting, and take off right away." Elizabeth picked up her cell phone from the desk but then paused.

"What is it?" asked Katherine, confused.

"They'll have turned off the cell phones," the detective explained. "And the radios are set to a specific frequency in operations like this."

"But we have to warn them."

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed and stood up. "Grab your stuff. We gotta go."

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Two unmarked navy blue Dodge cars slowly turned the corner and, as if on cue, turned off their lights. At the same side of the block was a black Dodge Charger parked with Jane smiling in the passenger seat, Savarese sitting in the back seat. At the wheel, grinning, was Billy Simms, a handsome, young African-American detective, awaiting orders.

"I forgot the subway here," she said suddenly.

Savarese's eyebrows drew together. "Yeah, so?"

"It goes right past Welch's building," Jane replied, looking over her shoulder. "When the next one comes through, we'll get all our people in place, and he won't hear a thing."

Savarese looked at his wristwatch. "1:58."

"Everything cleared with the building manager?"

"He should be waiting in the lobby right now to let us in. He's parked the elevator on the west side of the building."

Jane opened the passenger door. "Let's do it." Wearing a bulletproof vest, she brought up the rear with her team of heavily armed cops as they entered the brick-built behemoth of a twentieth-century apartment building. When the superintendent opened the inner security door, they were met by a vile stench.

"Pot and piss," Jane muttered. "Jesus."

They advanced into the spacious entry hall, once a palace of marble columns and floors, now clad in cheap, ugly, and dirty red-and-white ceramic tiles, sloppily laid. In front of Jane were Simms and Savarese, also wearing bulletproof vests, and six task force officers brandishing short assault rifles.

Jane saw the superintendent point to the right.

She had been in enough buildings like this to know that it probably had two separate sides, each with a small elevator. She also knew they would all be climbing stairs tonight.

She followed the team to the right, to some wide steps, and then into a hallway past the elevator. At the end of the hallway, they gathered at the foot of the stairs. There was no door; the stairwell lay open before them, all the way to the top and one floor down. Sergeant Tanner, the head of the task force, raised his fist in his glove to make everyone stop. Jane saw her opportunity.

She walked around the cops in front of her to the front of the line. "We want to wait for the next train," she whispered to Tanner.

"There hasn't been one for ten minutes," Tanner returned angrily. "The longer we stand here idle, the more likely we are to risk a tenant who can't sleep taking out his trash and discovering us. Or your perpetrator. The subway rarely runs this time of night anyway."

Jane was about to reconsider the situation when she heard the low rumble she'd been hoping for. She pointed it out to Tanner with a motion of her head. The train grew louder, and the sergeant signaled to his men.

They raced up the four stories in less than a minute, and the timing was so perfect that the train reached its loudest volume when they reached the top. Then they crept single file to the door of 5H. Without even pausing, Tanner readied a flashbang while one of his men swung a heavy hammer at the door lock and pried it open.

"Police!" the sergeant shouted, tossing the flashbang into the apartment and closing the door. It detonated seconds later, and Jane heard people behind the doors of the other apartments on the floor opening locks and removing security chains.

"Police!" she shouted, Glock in hand. "Stay in your apartments!" She signaled Simms and Savarese to make sure no one came into the hallway. Then she heard shouting from Welch's apartment.

"Get down on the floor!"

"Face down, now!"

"Show me your hands!"

"No, no, no," a female voice with a Spanish accent shouted. "Don't shoot!"

"Shit!" exclaimed Jane, as it was clear that this voice did not belong to Jonah Welch.

"Stay back!" yelled Tanner as Jane entered the apartment and saw the cops, who had already lowered their assault rifles, helping a young man and woman to their feet. The man was holding a boy Jane estimated to be four years old, whose frightened, tear-soaked eyes now met the captain's gaze. Jane, who generally dismissed religion as a crock, thanked God that this family wasn't dead in their blood because a cop had accidentally opened fire.

"You have nothing to fear," Jane said calmly, addressing the family. Nothing would stop the shitstorm the media would inevitably unleash. "But I have to ask you, does a Jonah Welch live here?"

"No, ma'am," the young man explained. "We've lived here for three years. There is no Jonah Welch living here."

Jane tried to smile reassuringly before turning to Simms and Savarese, her face darkening. "Are we sure about the address?"

Savarese was scared as well, mostly because of the impending punitive lecture from his captain. "I personally checked it a dozen times in the computer before I filed with the judge," he said.

"Get the superintendent up here, show him a picture of Welch, and ask him if the son of a bitch even lives in the building," Jane ordered sharply. "And hope he says no because if Welch heard us storming up the stairs here, he's been long gone and we're screwed."

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Katherine and Elizabeth sat nervously in the unmarked police car with enough distance to the building as a patrol car with blue lights and siren drove past them, no doubt attracted by frantic emergency calls that a bomb had gone off in the apartment building. Three minutes had passed since the flashbang went off.

Katherine slid nervously in the passenger seat and peered wide-eyed through the windshield. "What the hell is taking so long?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath and nervously drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. "They're probably securing the scene," she replied, her voice calmer than she felt. "They'll probably bring him out any minute now."

"What the hell?" whispered Katherine, sliding forward in her seat so far that she almost sat with her nose pressed against the windshield.

"What is it?" asked Elizabeth, looking up briefly from her phone with furrowed brows.

"Ma just came out with Savarese and Detective Simms."

"And Welch?" asked Elizabeth, tapping her cell phone again, by all appearances she was in touch with her daughters' babysitter.

"Nothing. Looks like Ma's stomping them both. Maybe we were right and Welch wasn't there."

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "That's why Ma wouldn't yell at the boys. But she would if someone had messed with the address." She looked at her sister and took a deep breath.

"The only way that could happen is if Welch had given a false address for the registry of convicted sex offenders."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Elizabeth said, more disappointed than annoyed. "Maybe we'll go back to the BPD before Ma realizes we're here."

Katherine just stared straight ahead.

The detective frowned deeply before starting her car's engine. "Are you all right?"

"I wanted to see Welch in handcuffs," Katherine replied, peering through the side window as her eyes fell on a figure emerging from below the sidewalk, walking casually but a little too quickly in their direction.

Elizabeth kept the engine running, but didn't drive off as if sensing her little sister's discomfort. "What's going on?"

"Someone just came out of the basement of the building."

"What, where?"

"He's about to come around your side of the car."

"The guy bent over in front?"

Sure enough, Katherine saw that the man was wearing a baseball cap and kept his head down. A shiver ran down her spine. "It's Welch," she noted. "I see enough of his face."

"Get your cell phone and call Ma," Elizabeth ordered as she unbuckled her seat belt again. Katherine was already opening the passenger door when her sister grabbed her by the arm. "Don't even think about it.

"I have to!" the doctor replied, realizing she had said it too loudly as Welch turned his head in her direction. He was standing directly in the glow of the streetlight, and Katherine saw that the man was indeed Jonah Welch. He froze, probably wondering if she was a cop if she recognized him. Then he took off running.

"He's getting away!" yelled Katherine.

"For crying out loud, Kate!" barked Elizabeth before jumping out of the car and following Welch down the street. Luckily, he wasn't in good shape and slowed his pace after only a few seconds. She growled loudly as her sister sped past her in the car, hoping she would catch Welch before Katherine wouldn't crash her car into a streetlight or a house wall.

Welch tripped over his own feet a few times, losing even more speed, and tried to escape into an out-of-sight front yard before Elizabeth jumped on him and tackled him to the ground.

"Get off me!" the man yelled at the top of his voice.

"Jonah Welch, you're under arrest," Elizabeth announced, handcuffing him.

"For what, damn it?"

"For lying about your address as a registered sex offender," Elizabeth explained, dragging Welch to his feet and pinning him over the hood of the car to search for weapons as Jane's Dodge sped up.

"Liz," Katherine said, gesturing toward her mother, who got out of the car.

"I see her," Elizabeth replied, not caring because she finally felt like a cop again. Jane could have fired her on the spot and she wouldn't have given a damn. At least she'd go out on a high.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" asked Jane.

"We got him," Elizabeth replied, nudging Welch toward her mother and boss as if she were handing Jane a prize.

Jane resisted the urge to pull out her gun and shoot them both, instead just standing there and allowing herself a smile.

"What's wrong, Captain?" asked Elizabeth, who was frightened by her mother's smile.

"Nothing. Well done, Detective."