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isn’t our case, the Jane Doe is, and the clock is ticking. That has to be my primary focus. So I want you to run with this, find out if there really is a connection here. That’s your top priority, OK?”
    “Sure thing.”
    “I’m going back to the scene. You talk to her. Get everything you can out of her and report back to me.”
    “Will do.”
    On the way out of the observation room, Ogawa patted Greening on the back. “I think this one is going to get ugly.”

    Marshall Beck sat in his SUV waiting for Number IV. He had parked between a couple of bail-bond outfits and had a clear view of the Hall of Justice, which was home to the superior court, the DA’s office, and the SFPD, to name just three. He had no idea if she was inside there, but there was a good chance she was, since the Hall of Justice was home to the SFPD’s major-crimes division. She was no longer at the crime scene. He’d checked. The cops were there, doing their cop thing, but Number IV wasn’t. The police might have sent her on her way, but he didn’t think so. They would want to question her, even if it was to dismiss her as a nut.
    Since seeing Number IV on the news broadcast, he’d been scouring his brain to remember her name. Snatching her and Number III had been a spontaneous thing, so he hadn’t done his usual due diligence. He hadn’t thought it was necessary at the time. The two of them were just passing through town. They were strangers with no ties. That had been his foolproof thinking, until Number IV escaped. He’d gotten a look at their IDs only once before he’d disposed of them. He remembered Number III. Her name was Holli Buckner, but Number IV was just out of his memory’s reach. He closed his eyes and pictured himself reading her ID. A name came into focus.
    “Zoë Sutton,” he said. “How nice to renew our acquaintance.”
    He wasn’t concerned that Zoë would be spilling her guts to the cops. She didn’t know anything that would send them to his door. If she did, she would have told them after her escape. The only damage she could do to him was to provide the police with a second data point. Then they’d realize they weren’t dealing with a single case, but two and possibly more. Even that second data point didn’t help the investigators much. You needed three or four to yield direction, and that wasn’t anything Zoë could provide.
    No, his interest in Zoë was one of personal pride. She was unfinished business. He’d been lax, and she’d gotten away because of it. She hadn’t paid her dues. She’d gotten only a taste of what was coming to her. It was high time he made her endure her full comeuppance.
    But he couldn’t rush things and let his emotions rule over good judgment. He’d taken all precautions with Laurie Hernandez, and something had still gone wrong. He needed to use stealth and cunning if he was to close his account with Zoë. He had to track her and observe her. But for that, he needed his own data points, and at the moment, he had none. He knew only her name and that she lived in this area. A quick Internet and phone-book search had failed to reveal a home address or any active social-media links. If she’d gotten married, she might be going under a new last name, but he didn’t think that was the case here. That dress wasn’t the dress of a married woman. No, Zoë Sutton was single. And that told him something. She was living as far off the grid as someone could these days. Who avoided Facebook and Twitter and didn’t have a listed phone number? Unabomber-style technophobes? Yes, for sure. People hiding from the world? Most definitely. Zoë was hiding, and hiding from him. He could have tracked her down right after she had busted out, but he’d had other things on his mind. He’d accepted her escape and moved on. It looked as if Zoë hadn’t. He had to give her props for that. She’d learned from their previous encounter.
    He eyed the dashboard clock. He’d been here two hours