“Just take your time and sift through all of them.”
Marla brushed her trembling fingers lightly across the pictures. She stopped on one, closed her eyes, and sucked in a breath. “This one.”
Detective Marsh leaned forward. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “It’s him. I’d bet my life on it.”
Marla winced at how true that statement was. As a blind psychic woman, she knew she’d been lucky to escape. The man who’d attacked her, as well as numerous other women, had to be stopped.
“You were lucky,” Marsh told her.
“I know.” She had lived to tell. Many hadn’t.