Chapter 4

On Monica's lunch break, she took Lasa and Shem to the apartment she shared with Alex.

It was precisely what they expected of their brother - spotless, dustless, and well-organized. He'd only been there for a week, but all of his books were arranged on a bookshelf in his painstaking way: by topic, then alphabetically by author and title. For nonfiction, he used the Dewey Decimal System, which neither of his siblings had ever been able to grasp. His encyclopedia set was odd: C first, then G, J, O, S, and so forth, in no apparent pattern. The W, X, Y, and Z books were made by a different company. This was something Lasa understood, a bit; the company that had made the rest of the encyclopedias put the last four letters together, but Alex preferred each letter separate.

"Your brother," Monica said, stepping into the kitchen, "is completely mad. I left all the dishes and look - he's washed and dried them. Didn't put them away, though." She raised her voice. "Alex, I told you so! You can't clean when you're sick!" Lasa and Shem entered the small kitchen, which didn't have much in it besides the sink, several cupboards, a refrigerator with a microwave on top of it, two chairs, and a table with a box of tissues for a centerpiece.

After a moment, Alex stepped out of one of the two bedrooms, rubbing his eyes. "Gah, Monica, you're not supposed to be home yet."

"I brought some visitors." She gestured to Lasa and Shem.

Alex took a quick step back and made a cross with his fingers. "Stay back, dear siblings! You must not catch the plague!"

"It's the flu," Monica muttered, and set about putting plates away.

"Hang on," Alex said, dashing over and snatching a plate from her. "That doesn't go there." He opened a different cabinet and reverently placed the plate on a small stack. "See, how many times must I say it? The flower patterns go here, and the normal ones go there, and should we ever need paper plates, they go over here."

"You don't seem very sick," Shem observed.

"Oh, I am. I very much am. It's better when I stand up. The doctors said to rest. When I'm resting I can't breathe. Which is exactly why doctors are idiots."

Shem raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, not you. Las, don't touch my books."

Lasa clasped her hands behind her back and peered at the encyclopedias, attempting to figure out what system her brother was using. "But they don't make sense."

"They do so. You're not looking at them right. By the way, have you met my fiancée?"

"No, we followed this stranger home on the off chance you were living with her," Lasa muttered. "Of course we know her."

"And you approve?"

"Sure. She's very nice."

Monica smirked, the first real emotion that had flickered across her face since Lasa and Shem had met her. "What a lovely compliment. I approve of them, Alex."

"Glad to hear that. I would kiss you, but you might catch the plague."

"It's the flu. Influenza. Occasionally fatal, but not often. Not a bit like the plague." Monica pointedly set a flower-patterned plate down on the proper stack.

Alex collapsed in a chair and watched his fiancée like a hawk as she proceeded with the dishes. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Our mother," Shem told his brother. "Apparently, the world's going to explode unless we go to a little island and do something technological."

"Not the world," Lasa corrected. "Just this continent. It will wipe America off the map."

"What will?" Alex asked. "Hey, Mon, make me some chicken noodle soup, would you?" Re: Lack of Reaction - You forget, this is one of Arietta's children. These three have been expecting this for their whole lives. They knew she had a plan, just not what. By now, Arietta's constant pronouncements of DOOM have kind of gotten her children used to it. What an odd thing here. How lucky I am to be your beta, for I understand things that no one else will, because you did not tell anyone else that she pronounces DOOM constantly. Also, amazing how many characters you have with NO EMOTION. Zac and Monica by personality, and now apparently also Lasa, Alex, and Shem. Couple problems with this. Readers don't get as much emotion from the story as they should, which makes it a lot like reading a documentary; interactions tend to be quite dull because no one's got any strong outward feelings; and it's unrealistic. Not everyone growing up under those conditions would become a jaded bastard. And they've got to be jaded bastards because otherwise they'd be very quiet optimists and frankly quiet optimists don't exist. If someone is quiet, it's because they have reason to hide what they'd like to say, and optimists don't have reason to hide. What is up with your characters? WELL THAT'S HOW THEY ARE! Everyone else has emotion. Erion, for one, is very emotional; he almost started crying at the end of chapter nine. Roger is subtly (but not for much longer) having major doubts about this whole thing, and he's unhappy about the things he's lost. Joseph...he's enraged or hysterical or crushing on Lasa most of the time. Trust me, Alex and Shem get a lot more human-ish later on...beer and cheese come to mind...but where do you suggest I put the fact that Arietta has been steeling them for this? Isn't it obvious from the fact that she chose their professions for them and they obviously know all about it?

"All right," Monica said. "Now, remind me. Do we keep our cans in this cupboard or the one under the sink?"

Alex's eyes widened. "No, the detergent and other potentially fatal household cleaning products go under the sink. Canned goods are in the pantry."

"Ah, the pantry. Why didn't I fall in love with a normal man who is interested in sports and alcohol?"

"Pantries are normal, what are you talking about? Sorry, Las, what were you saying?"

"There's a bomb on an island about twenty miles off the coast, and we have to dismantle it or everyone dies. It was Mom's idea."

Alex bit his lip, then reached for a tissue. "Sounds like exactly..." He sneezed, threw the used tissue into a garbage can situated beside the table, and continued, "Exactly like something Mom would want. She's crazy."

Monica located a can of soup and began searching for a can opener. "It's amazing her offspring are so normal."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?"

* * *

Monica went back to work shortly after she finished with the soup. Apparently, she gave directions to Zacharias and the others, because they arrived about an hour later.

Zacharias wandered over to the bookcase almost immediately, and after a few moments, said, "Very clever way to organize the encyclopedias. Says a lot about your mentality."

Lasa and Shem, who had been sitting on the couch talking with their friends, looked up in shock. Alex, who was eating in the kitchen, came to stand near Zacharias.

"You mean you can tell?" he asked incredulously. "No one ever understands."

"It's simple," Zacharias said. "But I think I shall refrain from explaining it."

"Oh, come on, tell us," Lasa pleaded, completely forgetting that she was still very mad at him. "We've been wondering forever."

"No thanks. Oh, M shouldn't be last, it should be here, between K and N."

"No, no," Alex said. "M belongs at the end."

"I don't see why...oh, wait, now I do. Questionable placement, really."

"How did you figure it out?"

Zacharias looked up, his eyes blank. "It's my job."

He looked at them for less than a minute, Lasa thought. He figured out something even our mother never understood. Maybe he wasn't exaggerating. Maybe he really is the best.

They lounged around in the living room for a few hours - well, everyone except Zacharias did. He pulled out the Z encyclopedia and read it. Lasa suspected him of skimming, since he flipped through it much faster than she could have, and then began to suspect herself of watching him more often than necessary.

Monica returned around six. "Your job," she told Alex, "is very boring."

"I know. That's why I like it."

"Okay," Lasa said, looking around at her assembled companions. "Now we're ready. All we need is a navigator."

Zacharias dropped the encyclopedia. Alex yelped in rage and scrambled to pick it up, while the spy stared at Lasa in consternation. "You're kidding, right?"

She stared at him. "No, why would I be?"

"Oh, my God. You can't be serious." He leaned back in his chair and pushed a strand of pale hair out of his eyes. "You are, aren't you?"

"Confused," Erion offered.

"Same," Joseph added.

"I'll have to agree with them." Muttering mutinously, Alex returned the encyclopedia to its proper place. "What's so strange about wanting a navigator?"

Zacharias smirked. "Lasa, you are a navigator. That's what a Wavespeaker is, among other things. I can't believe you didn't know. You've been one for, what, eight months, and you had no idea what being a Wavespeaker entailed?"

"Er, no..." Suddenly it all made sense. Except not really. "I don't know anything about navigation."

"Christ." Zacharias touched a hand to his forehead, as if he had a headache. "Wavespeakers accompany boats overseas as their navigator, and are also responsible for the lives of everyone else on board. That's why you practice lifeguarding."

"My life has found its meaning," Roger said, eyes wide.

"Sounds like fun," Erion said. "Much more fun than farming, anyway."

"Or being a priest."

Lasa's eyes were on her best friends, who now looked utterly dejected. She wanted to tell them about the folders, about the fact that they really weren't trapped in their guilds anymore, but no. She and Zacharias had decided that no one could know. Lasa wasn't even sure where he'd put the folders.

"So," Ysranna said, "we have two navigators, albeit apprentices. What now, maps?"

"Yeah. Mom said the one we need is Isla de Costoso."

"Oh, God," Zacharias moaned. "Once again, please don't be serious. Do you know what that means?"

"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell us."

"Isla de Costoso. The Island of Cost." He shook his head. "Tell you one thing, our enemies certainly know how to be ironic."

"That's not what irony means," Monica told him. "Irony would be if it was the Isla de HappyFunFun or...or the Island of Anti-Weapon Hippies."

Zacharias raised an eyebrow. "Really? I did not know that." Any better? Seems almost pointless now. But the bit about irony is funny now...

* * *

Zacharias waited until he saw Monica enter the kitchen to make supper, and surreptitiously followed.

"Oh," she said when she noticed him. That was it. "Oh." Amazing, how much inflection someone could fit into their voice with a single word. He would have to try that sometime.

For now, though...

"I'm going out," he told her. "The front door is in perfect view of the others. Is there a back way?"

"This is an apartment. Use the fire escape if you must. It's just outside the window in my bedroom, the one on the left."

"Right, well," Zacharias said, feeling suddenly cold all over. "Fire escape. No problem."

Big problem...big problem!

"You wouldn't, er, happen to know of a third way?"

Monica, who had been digging around in the pantry, turned to stare at him, her cold grey eyes betraying nothing. "You could tunnel through to the neighbors' apartment, but they might not like that."

"Right. Not feasible. So. Fire escape."

"Are you leaving or not?"

No. No. No!

"Yeah. Cover for me, would you?"

She raised a single eyebrow. "How?"

"Tell them I've, um, caught the flu and gone to lie down and no one can interrupt me in my, er, illness."

"All right."

He left then, walking as slowly as possible down the short corridor toward the bedrooms. Fire escape. Just great.

How on Earth had he gotten himself into this mess?

Being the best wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

* * *

It was only seven minutes before Zacharias' absence was noticed.

"Where'd Zac go?" Roger asked. He had been idly shuffling his deck of playing cards, and now sat up straighter. "I want to play Speed."

Lasa looked around, noting that everyone was present but the two blondes, Zacharias and Monica. "Monica?" she called.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Zacharias?"

"He's caught the flu and he went to take his temperature."

"I told you!" Alex said triumphantly. "I told you that I was contagious!"

Ysranna, who had been sitting next to him, inched away.

"Maybe someone ought to check on him," Erion offered. These people are not very smart. He caught it within, what, three hours? Well after the contagion period? And what would they know about contagion periods? Even Shem wouldn't, as he does not deal with influenza and the like, but with external injuries. Also, "this" people? Baha, you used bad grammar. It was a typo, now corrected. Why wouldn't they know about contagion periods? They go to school before Separation, don't they? It's one of those things you just pick up, people don't get sick that quickly, not from the flu or a cold. They didn't take biology. Most of what you get in school is stuff you really need to know no matter what your job is. Since they have Guilds and all that to teach you, and there isn't anything like high school or college, what you get is general arithmetic, history (soooo much history) and things like that, because in general they are not expected to need to know about contagion periods.

Joseph crossed his arms. "I refuse to be alone in the same room as that utterly frightening person."

"He doesn't want to be disturbed," Monica said, appearing in the doorway. "Let the poor kid be. Supper's ready. I made massive amounts of chicken noodle soup."

"Oh, good," Alex said, jumping up. "Just the thing to beat back the plague."

* * *

It was three hours before Zacharias returned. He came through the front door and made a pathetic attempt to sneak down the hallway toward the bedrooms. It did not work, seeing as the others were all in the living room, and saw him immediately.

"If you're sick," Shem said, "why were you outside?"

"Doing business," Zacharias answered coolly. "I bought a motorboat. It's a very pretty boat. I have named her 'The Wavedancer' because it is a pretty name. I have also rented a few rooms at the hotel just down the road. I was also detained for questioning by those idiots in the Justice Guild." He paused for a second, and then, just when Lasa was about to ask what he was talking about, continued, "By the way, we're stuck in Pacific City indefinitely."

"What?" Roger yelped. "Why?"

Zacharias strode calmly over to the lone empty chair in the living room and collapsed prettily. He swung his legs over one arm of the chair and tilted his head back over the other. "Because a girl was found murdered and the city has been closed down until the killer is found."

Momentary silence followed this annoucement; then everyone but Monica and Zacharias burst out into frenzied chatter. Zacharias closed his eyes and, to all intents and purposes, went to sleep, despite his uncomfortable position. Monica merely leaned against the wall, staring at him.

No one noticed.

It was Roger who woke Zacharias, fifteen minutes later. He used the same method he had often used on Lasa: he simply pushed the offending blond off of the chair. Zacharias landed in a rumpled heap and blinked owlishly up at Roger.

"I could kill you in an instant," Zacharias threatened half-heartedly.

"No doubt," Roger said, looking amused. "So, you got us rooms at a hotel? Any chance we'll get to see them sometime before, I dunno, tomorrow?"

Though Shem chose to stay and spend the night on the couch, the other five visitors followed Zacharias down the street. Before they entered the hotel, Ysranna grabbed the spy's arm and spun him to face her.

"Are you going to give us some answers?" she asked coolly.

Zacharias wrenched his arm out of her grip, his pale cheeks flushed with righteously indignant anger. "About what?" He's angry already? I thought he was supposed to be as outwardly emotionless as Monica. He is very upset at the moment, not thinking properly. We will find out why later on. I read those other chapters. Still haven't found out. See below.

"Why you snuck out. How you snuck out. What you were really doing for three hours. The murder, whether or not you did it, you know."

The others had paused to watch; now Erion chipped in, "And you might also tell us why you named the boat Wavedancer. I mean, seriously. That's very girly."

Zacharias cocked an eyebrow. "It's Lasa's boat. The Wavedancer is for a Wavespeaker. It makes convoluted, girly sense."

"Okay," Ysranna said, planting her hands on her hips. "You've answered his question. Now answer mine."

Zacharias opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish. He raised a finger pointedly, then let his hand fall to his side. A sneer crossed his face. One would think he'd be better prepared for this confrontation. Long, long story. Explained in chapter six, a bit. Once you've read it, I will endeavor to explain. Please do endeavor, then. Okay, fine. He snuck out to meet one of the spies, and while they were talking was the first time he decided that he was really on Lasa's side. He's angry now, with himself for being a traitor more than anything else, and he's preoccupied with the "how the hell am I going to pull this off?" question. He ought to have been ready, but he wasn't because he was panicking over the fact that he knew about the hawks, but he was powerless to stop them unless they got away from Pacific City soon. Also, remember that he's seen a dead body. This is not something easy to get over. Basically, three hours have just passed in which everything he knows and believes inhas been shattered. He is not going to be ready for anything like this

"I don't owe you any answers. I don't owe you anything."

With that, he whirled and stalked into the hotel.

* * *

He didn't speak to them for the rest of the night beyond telling them curtly what room numbers they had. He asked the man behind the desk to give them their keys, then vanished into his room.

The murder was all over the papers the next morning, and the members of the Public Information Guild dashed about, interviewing anyone who crossed their paths.

Alex, Shem, and Monica joined the others around noon, in the hotel dining rooms. Alex had bought a paper, which he handed to Roger.

"God," Alex moaned, studying the menu intently. "I can't believe we're trapped here for - "

"How do you do that?" Zacharias interrupted.

"Hmm, what?"

"Angst about and wail and act generally very Gothic, while at the same time looking so composed."

Alex looked confused. "I didn't know I was doing that. Was I really?"

"Augh!" Zacharias half-screamed, jumping up. "You look so innocent and idiotic! Why can't I do that?"

Lasa smirked at him. "Well, you're doing the angsting-and-wailing fairly well just now."

Zacharias muttered indignantly and stormed out of the dining room. The others watched him with expressions ranging from thoughtful to startled to amused.

"What was that all about?" Roger finally asked.

Lasa shrugged. "I really couldn't tell you."

The waitress came over then, and they ordered. As soon as she had gone, Roger threw the paper at Alex. "You really ought to be ashamed of yourself," he said. "Letting a mere child like me read that. It's awfully graphic."

"You're the same age as me," Lasa said, "and none of us are children anymore. Alex, let me see the paper."

Alex quickly reread the front page article about the murder, then shook his head. "No, he's right. You're too young."

"Alexander Jonathan Taylor, I am sixteen years old and perfectly mature enough to read that paper!" She leaned across the table and tried to get the newspaper; Alex held it above his head and smirked at her.

"Now, now, baby sister, I cannot allow you to be corrupted."

"What exactly is wrong with it?" Erion asked. He was sitting next to Alex, and snatched the paper away. After rapidly scanning the front page, he whistled and hid the paper under the table. "No, Las, you can't handle it."

"I could give you the lecture about gender bias again," Lasa said weakly. She's giving in awfully easily. Oh, you think? Hmm. Could it be that the /one guy/ here who is not a) related to her or b) has a crush on her is the /one guy/ she actually likes? Of /course/ she won't be arguing with him. Even if she doesn't know yet that she /does/ like him. You've forgotten about HTML italics again. Who's she like, then, Erion? I thought she later likes Roger and he has a crush on her. She has always liked Erion. Then Zac came along. Then, in chapter nine, something happens to make her not want him anymore, so she turns to Roger for comfort because, quite frankly, you can't expect Erion to comfort anyone in the state he's in at the time. Things happen, and by the time she figures out that she likes Erion, he's with Clementine, and she ends up with Roger because she does love him, just not yet.

Erion shook his head sadly. "Won't work. I know all about girls now. The only way I'll give you this paper is if, um..."

Ysranna wrenched the paper from Erion's grasp. "Men are utterly useless. Let's see. Okay, headline is 'Murderer Loose in Pacific City; Authorities on the Trail.' Big deal. 'Last night around six thirty, eighteen-year-old Lorelei Argave of the Correspondence Guild was garroted and - ' Oh. Oh, I'm not reading this anymore." She paled and handed the newspaper back to Erion.

"What's 'garroted'?" Joseph asked.

"Not very nice at all," Shem replied, shuddering. "But better than the other things that creep did to her. It's a good thing they've closed the city; they can catch the killer that way and we won't have to worry about him anymore."

Their talk turned to other matters. Eventually the waitress brought their lunch, and they had almost finished by the time Lasa thought to wonder what had become of Zacharias.

* * *

The blond spy was, at that moment, standing at the edge of a pier, staring into the barrel of a gun.

"Okay, okay," he muttered. "So it was a terrible excuse to run off. You can't kill me. You still need me."

"You're slipping, Mr. Mathari." The gun rapidly vanished, though Zacharias was unclear where, exactly, it had gone. "And it seems to me that you have forgotten what you owe us."

Zacharias tilted his head thoughtfully. "Last time I checked, I was debt-free."

"Perhaps. We shall see. At any rate. Do you know anything about the murder?"

"God, how many times do I have to say this? No, I don't. I got to the scene rather late, you know. I think I am scarred for life. If you'll excuse me, I have to bribe somebody to let us get out of here." He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked away.

"Mr. Mathari."

Zacharias halted, but did not turn. "What is it?"

"You are unarmed?"

"More or less."

Something skittered past Zacharias' feet; he glanced down, then bent to pick up the gun.

"For me?"

He could hear the grin in his acquaintance's voice. "It's about time you had one of your own."

Zacharias pocketed the gun, and continued walking. This whole sequence is practically speaking verb-free. YOU FEAR IT. DO NOT DENY. FINE. THERE AREN'T ANY. I LIKE THIS EXCHANGE AND I WILL NOT TOUCH IT. THEN FIX ANOTHER ONE. IT IS AN OVERUSED TECHNIQUE FOR TENSION. AIIIIIIEEEEEEE.

* * *

"What did you do with my pants?" Ahaha. This should be an icon. Ahaha. Make me one. Pweese? *thinks* Oh, hell, I have to get you a birthday present within the next three months, don't I? *sigh*

Joseph mumbled incoherently and threw a pillow at his roommate, Erion. "I didn't touch your damn pants."

"Don't you swear at me, you utter, utter priest. Come on, give them to me, I'm late."

"Late for what?" Joseph managed to disentangle himself from his blankets enough so that he could peer at Erion. "We have nothing to do today, remember? We're stuck in Pacific City?"

"I," Erion said pompously, randomly flinging all of the sheets from his bed in various directions, "am going to go to work with Alex today. It will be the first real work I've done since we built that treehouse in third grade."

"Oh, yeah." Joseph laughed. "And you're late?"

"So very late. Come on, I know you did something, where did you put them?" Erion finished tearing apart his bed and unceremoniously shoved Joseph out of his.

"Hey!"

They both froze at the sound of a knock at their door; then Ysranna said, sounding quite amused, "Erion, you're late, Alex just got here and he's wondering where you are."

"Augh," Erion said. "I have to do something, I'm not going to sit around here all day..."

Joseph got to his feet and groped for his shirt, which was lying in a sad little heap near the window. "Just calm down. You can bike out there by yourself, you know."

Erion gave a cry of relief upon locating his jeans underneath his bed and ran into the bathroom. Joseph found his own pants and pulled them on.

"Izzy, if you're trying to look through the peephole, I feel it is my duty to tell you that you can't see anything from that side."

He opened the door and found Ysranna staring thoughtfully off down the hallway.

"What's wrong with you?"

"A guy just ran up to me and asked if I'd seen his chameleon," she said.

"Um."

Erion dashed out of the hotel room, dragging a comb through his woefully tangled hair. "I'm here, where's Alex?"

Ysranna stared suspiciously at Erion. "Are you all right? You're acting very weird this morning."

I HAVE GAINED THE COURAGE IN THE FACE OF HORRORS TO CONTINUE BETA'ING. I EXPECT PRAISES AND BALLADS WHEN I FINISH. DOOM.

"I'm sorry. Four years of learning to use a plow does this to a person. Sad thing? I still can't use one."

* * *

Erion and Alex returned a few hours later, both looking extremely pale, and joined their friends in the hotel gift shop.

"Our construction site was closed," Alex said hollowly. "Because someone was murdered there last night."

Zacharias, who hadn't said anything since storming out the day before, asked, "Same modus operandi?"

"Yes."

"Oh, God," Erion whimpered. "I'd no idea it looked so bad." They're awfully slow to clean these things up, aren't they, or at least to put up the yellow tape. They were some of the first to discover the body. The peacemen hadn't got there yet.

Ysranna, who was examining a small stuffed frog, glanced up. "It's different to see something in person than it is to read about it, isn't it?"

"They hung him from the rafters," Alex whispered. "There was blood everywhere. I need to sit down." He collapsed on the floor, trembling. Hmm. Not so 'same modus operandi' then. What're you talking about, of course it is. Hmm. Maybe my definition of "garrote" is not the same as yours. *goes off to find a dictionary* Aha, yes. It would appear Dragonlance has corrupted me. The "garrote" I refer to is a very sharp bit of wire that strangles along with half-decapitating the victim. You have to be very strong to use one, that's how they found the murderer in the Dragonlance story where I learned the word.

Lasa sank to the floor beside her brother and hugged him, looking up at Zacharias with sad eyes. "When are we getting out of this city?"

The spy shrugged and reached out to steady Erion, who was swaying slightly. "When they catch the killer. Sit down, Erion."

Erion complied and rested his chin on his knees. "I can't stop thinking about it. I'm never going to sleep again."

"Sure you will," Zacharias said. "We'll get you good and drunk tonight. You'll be so preoccupied with the hangover tomorrow you won't remember a thing."

"I can't get drunk every night," Erion replied.

Zacharias awkwardly patted Erion on the shoulder. "I'm sure they've got sleeping pills you could get addicted to at the hospital. I'll go buy some."

Lasa followed him out of the gift shop. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing? I'm not doing anything."

"You're being nice. You're trying to help them. I want to know why."

She continued to trail after him as he walked the four blocks to the hospital, waiting for an answer that she didn't expect him to give. It wasn't as if she had anything better to do, anyway. He paused at the door, hazel eyes focused on the handle. "I know what it's like to see someone like that," he said quietly. "It's a good thing they wouldn't let you see the paper."

He walked into the hospital, leaving the startled Lasa outside.

After a moment, she turned and hurried off toward the docks.

* * *

The Wavedancer really was a pretty boat. It was barely large enough for nine people, but would suffice for the forty total miles they needed it.

Lasa sought out one of the peace officers. "So no one can take the boats out?" she asked sweetly.

"Of course not," he snapped. "We're dealing with a crisis, if you hadn't noticed. No one comes in, no one goes out." Now that he mentions it, since when is murder a crisis? It happens often enough here, I don't see why it would stop in the future. They don't have the ways of catching a criminal we do, you realize. Plus, a serial killer always causes a bit of a panic, especially one who strings up four victims in two and a half days with no witnesses whatsoever.

"But I have a new boat," she wheedled. "I just want to try her out. Can't I? I mean, do I look like a murderer to you?"

The peace officer looked around furtively, then bent down to whisper in her ear, "Absolutely not." Why's he looking around furtively and whispering? It sounds/looks like he's telling her she doesn't look like a murderer. Actually, he's just being mean. He's acting like he'll let her bribe him, and then wham, no way Jose.

Lasa wandered dejectedly back into the streets. She wasn't sure where the hotel was, but figured she would find it eventually. In the meantime, she would do some shopping with the money Alex had lent her.

Zacharias found her around seven o'clock. "You really shouldn't run around alone with a serial killer on the loose."

She stared at him. "Serial killer? For two murders?"

"Four," he said grimly. "Nothing to connect any of the victims to each other except for the way the killer works. It's a random madman. Come on, let's get going."

Lasa followed him into a small, nondescript restaurant and took a seat near the window. "Aren't we going back to t