“You should have taken better care of her. I mean, you call yourself a fucking cop.” She heard the words distantly. They seemed too quiet. Maybe her heartbeat was too loud.
“You’re useless, that’s what you are.”
That voice.
“Michael.” The first time she’d said his name since the day she’d found him standing over another victim. Only this time, his victim wasn’t dead.
She saw his shoulders tense. The darkness was growing thicker, and it was hard to see him clearly. His cap was hiding his hair, and his shoulders—they were much bigger than they’d been before.
He didn’t turn to face her, and he made no move away from Harley. Harley wasn’t fighting his attacker. Just lying limp on the ground.
“You aren’t supposed to be here, Kat.” Michael’s voice was chiding. “I saw the captain put you in the van. You’re supposed to be in the van.”
Valentine. Think of him as Valentine. It was the way she kept them separate. Her way of convincing herself that she’d never loved a killer.
She was good at lying to herself.
He still had the knife over Harley’s chest. “The captain told you it was safe in the van.”
“I also wasn’t supposed to come home early that day.” The gun was shaking in her fingers. “Get away from him or I’ll shoot you.”
He laughed. “That again, huh?”
“There are bullets in the gun this time.” She’d made sure of it. “Now get away from him.”
Silence. Then he lifted the knife, moving it away from Harley’s body, but not dropping it. “Did you know that Harley is the one who stood by and let your detective become so warped and twisted?”
“Dane isn’t warped.” And he wasn’t twisted. “That’s you.”
Laughter again. The low, husky laughter that she remembered so well. “Ah, Kat, haven’t you realized you’re attracted only to men like me? You see the darkness in us, and it pulls you right in.”
“Get. Away. From. Him.”
“You have a choice now, Kat. You can save this man. A man who stood by while a child was abused, again and again, a man who wore the uniform that said he would protect everyone…”
Harley was groaning.
“Or you can run back to that house, and maybe you’ll get there in time to save your detective.”
Her heart was beating so fast her chest hurt. “What have you done?”
“I learned from my last mistake. I’m not going to leave evidence behind again.” He shook his head. She almost caught a glimpse of his jaw. Almost. She wanted to see the face that he’d been hiding behind. “That’s just messy when you leave your work behind. Nothing will be taken away from that house.”
She glanced over her shoulder. She could just see the roof of the house at 5207 Oakland.
“I’d say you have about two minutes. If you do go in that house…” Valentine paused. “Please be out before then. I don’t want you to die.”
Her cheeks were numb. “A bomb?” That demolitions training he’d had in the military. Oh, God, he would know how to rig the place to blow. Two minutes…it made sense. He’d set something to explode.
Her hand stopped shaking. “I’ll save them all.”
He stiffened. Jerked up and to the left.
She fired.
The bullet sank into his shoulder.
The knife fell to the ground with a clatter.
Before she could fire again, Valentine lunged toward a small row of trees on the right, heading for a little patch of woods that separated the subdivision from the edge of the swamp just a few yards away. He left a trail of blood behind him.
I shot him.
She rushed forward. “Captain!”
Blood trickled down his temple. There was a giant gash on the side of his head. More blood on the sidewalk. Valentine bashed his head in. That had been the thud she heard.
But the captain was still alive. Still breathing.
Katherine glanced at the woods. She could run after Valentine. He was hurt. This was her chance to get him. Her chance.
But her gaze went back to the rooftop of that house. Two minutes. Less than that now. If Valentine hadn’t been bluffing, if there were explosives set to go off…
She shoved back to her feet and ran for the house. “Get out!” Katherine screamed as she raced toward 5207 Oakland Way. Some cops were already running from the house. They’d heard her gunshot. Her gunshot seemed to have drawn everyone’s attention. Good.
She lifted the gun into the air. Fired again.
“Get out!” Katherine screamed. “The house is a trap! It’s going to—”
A cop tackled her. Some uniform that she’d never met before. Her body slammed into the ground, and he twisted her wrist until the gun fell from her fingers.
“Get the fuck off her!” Dane’s voice. Dane. Then the cop who’d tackled her was tossed to the side. Dane caught Katherine’s hands and pulled her up against him. “Baby, what the hell?”
“Valentine. He set the house to explode!” Her gaze flew over his shoulder. “Get them out!”
“Out!” Dane snarled into his transmitter even as he lifted Katherine into his arms and started running away from the house. “Extraction now! The house isn’t secure!”
The cops began to rush away from the house. Katherine twisted, trying to see the front of that place. More uniforms rushed out. There was Ross, leaping out of the front door, and then—
An explosion shattered the windows. Glass flew through the air as a wave of heat burst from the house. Flames. Bricks. Chunks of wood.
And Katherine was flying, too. She and Dane hurtled in the air and crashed down hard on the earth.
Dane was over her. His mouth was moving, but all she heard was her heartbeat. Only heard—
“Katherine, are you all right? Dammit, say something!”
She put her hand to the ground. Felt blood trickling down her cheek. “Did everyone get out?”
His lips tightened. “I don’t know.” He pulled her against him. Held her tight.
She looked back at the inferno. Nothing was left of the house. Just a shattered husk that was blazing.
“The captain’s down!” The cry came from John.
Katherine jumped to her feet. The world swayed for a minute. Dane grabbed her. “Take it easy.”
There was no easy. “Valentine. He attacked your captain!”
Dane’s eyes widened.
“I saw him. I shot him…”
“You killed Valentine?”
She shook her head.
“I need some help!” Marcus yelled. “Get me an EMT!”
Katherine and Dane both rushed toward his cry. The profiler was crouched over the captain. Harley’s eyes were closed. His chest barely seeming to rise.
“He must have been tossed in the explosion,” Marcus said, his voice rough. There were deep scratches and cuts on his arms. It looked like he’d been tossed through the air, too.
“No,” Katherine told Marcus, “he wasn’t.”
Then sirens were screaming. The EMTs who’d been just a few blocks away—held back as a precaution while the cops stormed the house—were racing to the scene.
“He ran that way,” Katherine said, pointing to the trees. Night had come too quickly, but the inferno lit up the edge of the woods. “He was bleeding. If you get the dogs, you can track him. He tried to kill the captain.”
Ross had come up behind her. Blood trickled down the side of his face. “Katherine, how did you know the place was gonna blow?”
Dane was sending cops into the woods and calling for the dogs.
She backed up so the EMTs could work on Harley. “Valentine told me. Said I had a choice to make. I could save the captain or the men in the house.”
Ross’s eyes narrowed. “He set us all up to die?”
“It wasn’t about you.” Valentine hadn’t cared about the lives that he would take. “He didn’t want to leave evidence behind.” She swiped her hand over her eye, over the cut on her eyebro
w that was sending blood down her cheek.
Ross gave a grim nod. “I’m joining the search.”
His shirt was smoldering and bloody. Heavy patches of blood covered his shoulders. He barely seemed to be standing on his feet. “No, you need help!” Katherine turned and called for an EMT.
But when she glanced back, Ross was gone. He’d vanished into the woods.
Katherine’s breath huffed out. Ross needed treatment, but she knew that, for him, the job always took priority.
She stood there in the midst of the chaos, and her gaze swept the scene. So many were injured.
Another ambulance hurried onto the street. She counted at least a half dozen cops who were bleeding and burned. One guy had a broken leg, one a broken arm, both from their impact with the ground after the explosion.
If she hadn’t seen Valentine with Harley…if she hadn’t fired her gun…all of those men would be dead.
Dane would be dead.
She stared back at the fire. The flames were so big and bright.
Valentine had gotten away.
One day until Valentine’s Day. Just one.
He’d gotten away, but she didn’t think he’d run far.
Valentine smiled as he gunned his vehicle and hauled ass away from the swamp. He’d long ago mapped out a perfect escape route through that swamp.
Always have an escape plan. He’d learned that valuable lesson, thanks to Kat.
So he’d been prepared, just like a good Boy Scout.
He could see the smoke drifting in the air. Hear the scream of fire trucks and more ambulances as they raced to the scene.
Katherine had been so afraid. She’d screamed, desperate to get those men and women out of the house.
There wasn’t a timer, sweetheart.
As if he’d ever risk her safety that way. He’d never let the house blow while Katherine was close to it.
He’d had the detonator. He’d run into those woods deliberately. Then, with one push of a button on his cell phone, he’d triggered the blast.
He’d learned quite a few handy tricks over the past few years. When you had to vanish, had to discover how to become someone new, it paid to learn all the deadly tricks you could.
He’d watched. Seen the detective grab Katherine and rush away with her. He’d known that would be Dane’s response, of course. Get the girl to safety. Play hero.
And he was only playing.
That bastard would pay, soon enough.
Even with his injury—sweet Kat had barely clipped him—it had been so easy to slip away in the borrowed police uniform. Now, while the cops were distracted, searching the woods that were fucking empty, he would focus on his next victim. A victim who wouldn’t even see him coming.
Valentine’s Day was almost here.
Time to celebrate.
Ready to be mine, Kat? Always…mine.
– 16 –
Ronnie turned off the lights in her office and grabbed her bag. It was edging close to nine p.m. She should have left hours before, but she’d hung around, hoping to get the tox screen back on Trent Lancaster. The guy running the report didn’t seem to understand the concept of ASAP. Captain Harley would have to get on his ass.
Her tennis shoes squeaked on the tile floor. She passed Mr. Jarvis, the night janitor, and gave him a little nod. He had his iPod playing, so he barely glanced her way.
She exhaled and hurried toward the stairs. The day had been a bitch, and she just wanted to go home, shower, and crash into bed.
Preferably with Mac. Maybe he’d sneak over and join her. Before this damn case, they’d actually had plans for a romantic Valentine’s Day getaway.
Now no one in the precinct could look at the holiday the same way.
It’s about death, not love.
She pushed open the exit door and headed for her car. The Jeep waited for her under the gleaming light of the parking lot. She always left the Jeep under the light. Occupational hazard: she saw threats everywhere. Right then, she even had a can of Mace gripped in her hand.
Because I always see the dead. Everywhere I go. After the bodies crossed her table, they haunted her. Their stories haunted her.
But as she came closer to her vehicle, she realized something was wrong. Her back tire was flat. Completely and totally flat.
Hell.
Her eyes narrowed. The shower would have to wait a while. Ronnie glanced back over her shoulder at the building. She could change the flat on her own, no problem, but she wasn’t doing it. No way was she going to huddle down there, alone in the dark, and struggle with that tire. She turned on her heel and began to march back to the building. She’d get someone to help her. Mac immediately sprang to mind. The man was very good with his hands.
Standing out there alone had a bad horror-movie ending written all over it. She reached for the door handle so she could head back inside the building.
Only the handle wasn’t turning. The damn door was locked.
Crap.
Sometimes the lock would engage automatically. She’d complained three times to maintenance about the problem. But of course they hadn’t fixed it. Maintenance had their priorities, and the back door wasn’t one of them.
Ronnie grabbed her phone. She’d call Mac. He could come and meet her and help get her tire changed. Then maybe they’d leave together and…
Something jabbed Ronnie in the neck. She screamed, more in shock than pain because she hadn’t heard anyone or anything approach.
She was falling. Her phone flew from her fingers. She tried to spray the Mace that she still gripped in her left hand, and a line of liquid shot out of the canister.
But the spray didn’t hit anyone.
She hit the ground.
Her body was quickly becoming sluggish, the muscles refusing to obey her command to get up. To move.
She opened her mouth to scream, but something sticky and rough was shoved over her lips.
Ronnie struggled to keep her eyes open. Her lids wanted to sag. She couldn’t see the light from the building any longer. Couldn’t see her Jeep.
Couldn’t see anything.
As she slumped on the hard ground, Ronnie knew exactly what was happening to her.
An injection had been sent directly into her jugular vein. Fentanyl was coursing through her system, she had no doubt.
Just like with Savannah and Amy.
She wouldn’t be able to fight her attacker.
Not when he came to drive his knife into her heart.
Dane glared at the woods around him. The dogs were behind him, silent now. They’d been barking furiously at first.
Then they’d lost Valentine’s scent.
It didn’t fucking help that the woods backed up to an old highway. Valentine would have known that, of course. Dane was sure the fucker had planned an escape. The bomb had been in place, so, yeah, it figured he’d have a vehicle around too.
“Keep searching,” Dane ordered the dogs’ handlers, but he didn’t have much hope that they’d turn up anything that night.
The scent of smoke was in the air, and as he headed back toward the smoldering remains of the house on Oakland, Dane saw the firefighters who’d gathered at the scene.
The captain was gone—headed to the hospital, as were at least five other cops who’d been injured in the blast.
Marcus glanced up, saw Dane, and hurried toward him.
“Was this in your fucking profile?” Dane demanded.
Marcus was pale. “He’s covering his tracks. The explosion was a necessity for him, not—”
“Not like his damn pleasure kills,” Dane finished, voice snapping. “So what does he do next? He came after Katherine—”
Marcus looked to the side. Katherine stood between two uniforms.
“And she went after him,” Dane finished. She’d shot the bastard and saved Dane and his men. The woman was so much stronger than he ever realized. “I guess that blows your theory of her being involved in the crimes to hell, huh?”
&nb
sp; “Katherine isn’t what I thought.”
And she was more than Dane had ever expected.
“We’ve got an alert out to every hospital,” Dane said as he headed toward Katherine. He hated that tense look on her face. “He’s injured, so if he goes in for treatment, we’ll know.” Cops were stepping up their searches in the city, too.
Dane’s phone rang. He answered as he closed the distance between himself and Katherine. “Black.”
“I need you at the station.”
Dane frowned. It was Mac’s voice—and it was shaking.
“I’m at the crime scene. We’re not done here, man—”
“Ronnie is gone. She was taken.”
“Are you sure?” Ronnie?
“Fucking certain. Her Jeep’s still in the lot. Her back tire was slashed, no one can find her.” He could hear Mac’s fury and fear. Everyone else tended to think Mac was controlled, but Dane knew that when it came to Ronnie, that control was weak.
Ronnie and Mac put on a show for the rest of the station, but Dane had caught them making out a few months back. They were involved—damn deep.
“She’s not answering her phone,” Mac said. “She’s not at home. She’s gone.”
Katherine frowned and stepped toward him, “Dane?”
“I’m on my way,” Dane said. He ended the call. Glanced at Katherine. At Marcus. “He took the ME. The bastard left us here, chasing our tails—and he went after her.”
Ronnie squinted against the bright light. She had a terrible acidic taste in her mouth and—
She couldn’t move.
Her memory came flooding back, and she opened her mouth to scream. But the sound was choked back because something was over her mouth.
Duct tape.
Her hands were bound with rope, secured over her head. Her ankles were tied, keeping her immobile.
She was on a table, much like the ones in her lab. The ones she used for the autopsies.
A tear leaked from her eye.
“You’re awake.”
The voice was being filtered through a distorter, and it had her flinching, then turning. Her glasses were gone. Without them, she couldn’t see clearly for more than two feet in front of her. Valentine was a black-covered blur.