The man turned quickly and backed away from the door, an expression of guilt replaced by a wide, cheerful smile.

“Rachel Wainwright?"

"Yes," she nodded warily. "And you are?"

“Lloyd Fontein, Chicago PD,“ he said. He flashed a badge at her, closing the Leather case and tucking it away before she could get a good look. Too quickly, she thought to herself.

“Would you mind if I came in and asked you some questions?”

"Yes," she said, smiling widely.

"Great," he said, moving aside and allowing her to get to the door.

“Lovely house you have here. A lot better than I could afford on a detective's salary, huh?"

Oh, he's good. Her admiration was tinged with disgust. Win my sympathy by implying you're underpaid. Work on my guilt. Her smile grew cold.

“I don't think you understand. Yes, I do mind if you come inside. You're not invited. And truth be told, you're more than a little off your turf, aren't you, Mr. Fontein? This is Woodridge. What's a Chicago cop doing all the way out here?"

Fontein's smile grew ugly.

“Investigating a disappearance. What do you know about a woman named Althea Carpenter?"

“Althea? She's not missing. She's-" Too late, she caught herself.

“She's not your business." Shaking at her slip, she pulled out her keys.

“Oh, I'm making it my business, bitch." A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, spinning her around. In the back of her mind, Althea screamed in fear and rage. Fontein leaned close, his rank breath making her gag.

His eyes were wide and bloodshot. "Listen," he said hoarsely, and she could sense his panic. "Tell me what you know and I'll leave. I'LL never bother you again. What do you care about this cunt Carpenter, anyway?"

“Alex, now!" she shouted. She glared at the hulk of a man looming over her.

“My son just called the police. The real police."

“I am-"

“You're not," she snapped.

“And I know it. Out of your jurisdiction, unmarked car, closing the badge too quickly, too fast to resort to threats and abuse.

“Now, it's possible," she said, “not likely, but possible, that you're just a plainclothes detective who's having a bad day. In which case

I'l1 apologize and we'll all have a good Laugh when you prove you are who you say you are. On the other hand," she continued, “If you're here when the Woodridge PD shows up and they see you're impersonating a real police officer..." she allowed her voice to delicately trail off. "What happens to ex-cops in prison, Lloyd?"

“Fuck you," he breathed, and she could taste his fear and hate. "Fuck you forever. Screw it," he said, removing his hand from her shoulder and edging away. "I'LL find the Carpenter bitch without your help. You had your chance. Remember this," he spat over his shoulder as he walked down the steps toward the sidewalk, “When that monster Kincaid comes for you. You had your chance."

Kincaid? What the hell does he have to do with this? She watched suspiciously as Fontein climbed into a beat-up old Buick and pulled away from the curb. Maria and Alex walked up to her, surrounding her protectively as the car lurched away in a stinking cloud of blue exhaust.