What was left of Brennen was stretched out on a lake-sized bed with a stylish mirrored canopy. One arm had been chained with silver links to the bedpost. Eve imagined they would find his feet somewhere in the spacious apartment.

Undoubtedly the walls were well soundproofed, but surely the man had screamed long and loud before he died. How long had it taken, she wondered as she studied the body. How much pain could a man stand before the brain turned off and the body gave out?

Thomas Brennen would know the answer, to the second.

He'd been stripped naked, his hand and both his feet amputated. The one eye he had left stared in blind horror at the mirrored reflection of his own mutilated form. He'd been disemboweled.

"Sweet Jesus Christ," Peabody whispered from the doorway. "Holy Mother of God."

"I need the field kit. We'll seal up, call this in. Find out where his family is. Call this in through EDD, Feeney if he's on, and have him put a media jammer on before you give any details. Let's keep the details quiet as long as possible."

Peabody had to swallow hard twice before she was sure her lunch would stay down. "Yes, sir."

"Get Strobie and secure him before he can babble about this."

When Eve turned, Peabody saw a shadow of pity in her eyes, then it was gone and they were flat and cool again. "Let's get moving. I want to fry this son of a bitch."

It was nearly midnight before Eve dragged herself up the stairs to her own front door. Her stomach was raw, her eyes burning, her head roaring. The stench of vicious death clung to her though she'd scrubbed off a layer of skin in the locker room showers before heading home.

What she wanted most was oblivion, and she said one desperate and sincere prayer that she wouldn't see the wreckage of Thomas Brennen when she closed her eyes to sleep.

The door opened before she could reach it. Summerset stood with the glittery light of the foyer chandelier behind him, his tall bony body all but quivering with dislike.