Saturday, February 9, 1974, 5:45 P.M. The Sledd Payne Corporation, Symbol YHT Previous Close 12 7/8 WHEN THE MAN appeared from behind the blue hydrangea, Laine Jeffrey thought he was the Zodiac killer. “Stay quiet,” he said, reaching for her. “Don’t hurt me.” He tore the beaded satin purse from her shoulder, snapping the delicate silver chain. He found the car keys and opened the Mercedes door. “You’ll do what I tell you now.” Laine got in and grasped the steering wheel. Oversized plastic cubes dangled from the rear view mirror, her smiling daughter watching from all sides. The passenger door slammed shut. “Take the “Are you him?” “Get moving.” “I have money.” He reached into the folds of his coat for a gun and rested it on the burl divider between them. A silencer protruded from the barrel, and in the hour they spent driving, his finger never left the trigger. They veered off Highway 101, winding through the wooded wetlands of “Get out slow,” he said. She gazed at her daughter’s pictures, felt her throat tighten. “We had ballet tickets.” He reached over to open her door and forced her out, following close behind. “No more ballet.” “Please don’t do this,” she whispered, tears falling. He backed her against the side of the car, pressing his body into hers. With his tongue, he coaxed a toothpick to the other side of his mouth and brought his face so close to hers they were almost touching. She tasted his foul, hungry breath, and turned her head away. He placed the gun on the car roof and lifted the hem of her dress. “We’re gonna dance right here.” In the mud he lost his footing. She scratched at his face with both hands and pushed hard, a lucky push. When he grabbed at the low branches to break his fall, Laine ran into the trees. The dense shrubbery whipped against her legs and face as she tried to remember the direction of the road. She glanced behind, and saw the man hulking toward her. The trees cleared abruptly in front of a small white house that gleamed in the darkness. She tripped, and her hands sank into a patch of glutinous mud. She tried in vain to lift herself to her feet, screaming her frustration. A flashlight beam unexpectedly illuminated the ground. Someone stepped in front of her, and offered his hand. In the glare, she saw his face. She knew him. He ran one of Sledd Payne’s Operations divisions. “What are you doing?” she asked, bewildered by his presence, at what he could possibly want of her in this place. He lifted her to her feet, tightening his hold on her arm, hurting her. Wet, heavy footsteps approached. The other man twisted her around and slammed the back of his hand across her face. She fell to the ground again, and when he kicked her in the ribs, she rolled onto her back, flooded with pain. He knelt down, big as a grizzly bear, and gripped her neck with one hand, digging in his fingers. Beyond the shadows, the stars converged and grew blurry. The mud felt soft and warm beneath her, but her dress was ruined, and they’d chosen the dresses especially so they would match. Like twins, her daughter had said. She’d have to change now. She could hear her heart beating. Teach you to behave, said the grizzly. oh my sweet baby girl don’t see me like this Her daughter’s face floated across the sky, joyful. It’s a game, she cried, hide and seek, hide and run before the bear sees you baby Laine tried to lift her arms but they wouldn’t move. She couldn’t feel them any more. run to daddy The little girl laughed, a happy pink wad of gum tucked inside her cheek. She danced a pirouette, decorating the treetops with light that burned in white hot streaks as the stars gathered speed and spun out of control. Chapter 1