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mob any day over some spineless little prick who just phones in his threat,” she snapped.
    The line went quiet. The bluster was gone from Milsevic’s voice when he finally asked, “What are you saying?”
    â€œI’ll just talk to Kiger.”
    â€œLook … sorry. If there’s a problem, we need to know.”
    He was right. The message was too scary to ignore. Brenna thought again of the kids, of Jim. This was her battle, but they were in the crossfire. She thought, too, of Teresa Harnett. If it was the same guy, she could be a target again.
    â€œI got a phone message, a threat, I think,” she said. “Nothing overt, just implied. I’m no Chicken Little. I think you know that. We’ve had plenty of this bullshit since the release. But this one was different. I just got a feeling about it. Plus, it was on my home machine.”
    â€œYou saved the answering-machine tape?”
    â€œIt’s digital. Not sure how that works.”
    â€œBut it’s still on the machine, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œYou recognize the voice?”
    â€œThere’s no talking. Just a recording. The verse from ‘Tunnel of Love.’ ”
    Brenna didn’t elaborate; the police captain was intimately familiar with the details of the Harnett attack. He knew what it meant.
    â€œI’ll get someone over there,” he said.
    â€œNo hurry.”
    â€œLook for a patrol officer in the next fifteen minutes. You’re in Shadyside?”
    She gave him the house number on Howe Street. “Brian?” she said, regretting the uncertainty she betrayed by using his first name. “It’s probably nothing.”
    â€œOr it could be a lot of things.”
    â€œJust make sure to keep the Harnetts in the loop,” she said. “They should know. But don’t screw me on this.”
    â€œYou did the right thing, calling. Let us do our job. I know what you’re probably thinking. You probably know what I’m thinking. But either way, we need to be involved. Fifteen minutes. If it takes longer, call me back.”
    As reassuring as she found Milsevic’s words, they suddenly struck her as overly concerned. “I’d almost rather you didn’t take this so seriously,” she said. “What exactly are you thinking, anyway?”
    â€œYou don’t really want to know,” he said.
    â€œHumor me.”
    Milsevic waited. “It is kind of funny, sort of a coincidence. You spring DellaVecchio, and suddenly we’ve got a Springsteen fan with an attitude running around out there.”
    Bastard.
“He wouldn’t threaten me. Just forget it, OK. I should have known better.”
    â€œYou asked my opinion.”
    â€œYour opinion is so goddamned predictable,” she said. “You want to know what I think, Captain? I think whoever savaged your friend Teresa is still out there. I think he’s worried Carmen’s off the hook. This misguided soul may actually think someone there would take a new investigation seriously. He may not know any better. So he’s going after me, because I’m the one all over TV and the papers talking about how somebody other than Carmen DellaVecchio nearly killed Teresa. That’s what I think, Captain, and you can bet your ass I’m going to track down your boss in San Diego and let him know what I think.”
    She was breathing hard and covered the phone’s mouthpiece so Milsevic wouldn’t hear. After a long pause, he said “Touché. Fifteen minutes, OK?”
    Brenna hung up without another word.

Chapter 9
    Fifteen minutes, on the nose. The young patrol officer knocked, politely introduced himself, and stepped into the foyer. He looked like somebody’s kid. Over his shoulder, Brenna could see a panting German shepherd pacing in his cruiser’s back seat. She showed the cop to the living room, briefly told him her story of coming home and finding the phone