“Holly doesn’t live here anymore,” said the landlord. “Who are you?”

      Jack showed the man his police identification and was relieved that he didn’t notice his name.

      “She couldn’t hack staying here after what happened. Can’t say I blame her. Didn’t mind that she didn’t give me thirty days’ notice. Feel bad about keeping her damage deposit, but the damage to the carpet wasn’t my fault.”

      Jack obtained Holly’s new address and then asked, “How much was her deposit?”

      “Half a month’s rent. Four-seventy-five.”

      After stopping at a bank, Jack met with Holly, who was living in a one-bedroom apartment just two blocks from her previous address.

      Jack was invited inside. He saw Jenny sitting on the sofa watching television with her thumb in her mouth. Holly pulled it out as she walked past and then sat at the kitchen table with Jack. Jenny immediately put her thumb back in.

      “She quit doing that two years ago,” said Holly. “Just started again after...” Her voice trailed off and she looked around the apartment and said, “I know it’s not much, but it’s close to Jenny’s daycare and I can still walk to work.”

      Jack leaned across the table and squeezed the top of her hand and said, “It’s only been a week. Don’t you think you should take some more time off?”

      Holly pulled her hand away. “I can’t afford to. Sitting around doesn’t help. Keeping busy seems to. Between driving back and forth to visit Charlie, looking after Jenny, and going to work, I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself.”

      Jack swallowed, and then said, “Our office received an anonymous letter this morning. It looks like your husband was murdered by mistake. It should have been me.” Jack knew his voice sounded shaky. He put his palms down on the kitchen table in an effort to stop himself from trembling.

      Holly just looked at him and didn’t speak.

      “Did you hear me?” asked Jack.

      “Yes,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “It wasn’t something I didn’t know. My husband was a good man. It wasn’t a robbery. It had to be you. I’m glad that you know it too. Maybe now you’ll find out who did it.”

      Jack paused and glanced at Jenny for a moment before turning his attention back to Holly. “I think I knew it the first night I met you. I could see you were decent people, but it ... it was ... I didn’t want to admit that I was responsible.”

      Holly stared at him as she asked, “What did the letter say? Why would someone commit murder and then write to the police? Are they thinking of confessing?”

      “No. They indicated that if our office keeps doing our job, then other police officers or people they love or know will be murdered. I work on an intelligence unit for organized crime. There are lots of potential groups of suspects.”

      “You mean to say that the people who murdered my husband are also threatening the police?”

      “Exactly.”

      “They must be insane! How do they expect to get away with that?”

      “If I have anything to do with it, they won’t.”

      “Quite a few people in your office?”

      “Quite a few.”

      “All with different names, I suppose. Like Smith, Adams, Jones, or whatever.”

      “Not exactly but ... what are you getting at?”

      “That enough people in Vancouver share names with people you work with that it would be ludicrous to try and protect them all. You’re not to blame for what happened to my family. Do you know that there are at least a half-dozen J. Taggarts listed in the phone book in the lower mainland? Except for you, mine might have been the only Jack.”

      “I’m not listed in the phone book.”

      Holly paused and then said, “That figures. But you see what I mean. Taggart isn’t even that common of a name.”

      “Maybe that was the problem.”

      “Maybe.” Holly reached across the table and patted Jack’s hand. “I admit that a few days ago I felt like smashing you in the face. Especially when I found out about Charlie. I know it was really mean of me to call you to the hospital that day.”

      “It’s okay. I wanted to know.”

      “But the way I told you ... that must have been awful.”

      “Don’t worry about me. I understand your anger.”

      “It wasn’t just you. I have moments where I feel angry at the whole world. That day you just happened to be a convenient target to lash out at. In my heart I know it’s not your fault.”

      Funny, in my heart I think it is my fault...

      “What I guess I’m trying to say is that I’m not blaming you. I just want you to catch them.”

      Jack felt like some of his sorrow had been lifted, but it didn’t ease his stress — nor his own anger. He put his other hand on top of hers and said, “Thank you. I promise ... I will get them.”

      Jack left the apartment after promising Holly he would keep her informed as best he could. She assured him that she would call if she needed help and thanked him for delivering the envelope from her previous landlord.

      “Something to do with it being covered by insurance,” said Jack.

      “Hey, Connie, that name you asked me to check — Spider — got something on him.”

      Connie took the report and saw that it was an Intelligence report submitted last year by Jack Taggart. It described an individual he identified only as Spider who was a low-level speed dealer in the Black Water Hotel. Jesus Christ! Did Taggart know the war vet?

      Jack had just arrived back at his office when Connie entered.

      “You hear the news about the war vet murdered on Friday?” asked Connie.

      “Heard about it on the news.”

      “Albert Dawson. His wife’s name is Essie. Do you know them?”

      “No. Why?”

      “I’ll tell you why. We’re approaching close to a hundred murders a year in the lower mainland. Do you know how many murders last year took place at the front door when the victim had just arrived home?”

      “No.”

      “None. Last week, in a period of five days, we’ve had two.”

      “What’s it got to do with me?”

      “You’re connected to both murders!”

      Jack felt stunned. “I’ve never met this Dawson fellow! I’m sure of it. If he was murdered because someone thought he was my friend, then they’re completely wrong!”

      Connie gave Jack a copy of the report he submitted last year about Spider.

      “Sure, I know him,” admitted Jack. “We met last year when I worked undercover in the Black Water. Doing an Intelligence probe. Bought an ounce of speed off him. Never did find out who he really was. I was after someone else. Spider was just a stepping