“A box was on my stairs inside. The third step,” she whispered. “I opened it. Rose petals were inside. Rose petals and a picture.” She drew in a ragged breath. “It was a photograph of Savannah’s chest with a knife driven into her heart.”
He glanced back at the house. The seemingly perfect house.
The call finally connected. He immediately barked, “This is Detective Dane Black. I need a team out at two-oh-one Byron West, and I need ’em f**king now.”
His gaze darted around the darkened woods. No one close to hear the screams.
If he’d just stayed at her house instead of following after Katherine like a lovesick teen with a hard-on, he would’ve had the killer.
Had him.
But maybe the bastard had left evidence behind that they could use. Something that could help him track the guy.
“It’s him,” Katherine said, her voice a bit stronger now. “He wants me to know it’s him.”
Dane had read more of the Valentine files before going to Katherine’s. He knew Valentine had taken pictures of his victims. Pictures of their dead bodies, with knives driven into their hearts. Then he’d delivered the stark black-and-white photos. One had gone to a victim’s parents. One to her lover. One to the FBI.
This time, the delivery had been made to Katherine.
He twined his fingers through hers. “Come with me.” He had to search the scene. The killer could still be in her house.
“No, I can’t go back in—”
“And I can’t leave you alone out here!” Leaving her unprotected was not an option he would take.
She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. “Right.”
He pulled out his gun and tightened his fingers around hers. “Stay with me. Every step, got it?”
A slow nod. “Got it.”
He stalked toward the house. Her front door hung open, and light spilled onto the porch. Katherine was a silent shadow behind him.
He went in first, doing a sweep and keeping his gun up and ready. He saw the long-stemmed roses on her stairs, with the white box dropped next to them. Scattered rose petals trailed over the floor. He didn’t open the box. No sense contaminating the scene any further, and Katherine—she didn’t need to see that photograph again.
They swept the bottom floor first. Dane made sure his body guarded Katherine at all times. Into one room. Another.
No sign of an intruder. Nothing broken. Nothing disturbed.
Just a deadly present left behind.
Carefully they eased up the stairs. Two rooms waited up there. The first was filled with canvases, art supplies. Dark splashes of color—they almost looked like blood—coated the stark white canvases.
The second room—it was her bedroom. The scent of strawberries was stronger there. The four-poster bed waited inside. Her clothes hung perfectly in her closet. Her small bathroom shone with clean precision.
Again, no sign of the intruder.
At least, no sign he could see. Maybe the crime-scene team would have better luck.
The bastard’s not in the house.
But that didn’t mean the perp had left the scene.
Dane took Katherine back outside. They’d conducted the search in near silence. She’d been so close to him, her body had brushed against his with almost every step they’d taken.
On the porch, his gaze tracked along the line of trees. There were too many places to hide out there.
Dane wanted to race into the trees and find out if the bastard was still out there, hiding and watching, but he knew that keeping Katherine safe was the main priority. He couldn’t leave her, and in the dark woods, he wouldn’t be able to protect her.
So he kept her close, using his body as a shield, and he waited for his backup to arrive.
I’ll find you, bastard. I’ll stop you.
Shaking hands clenched into tight fists.
The detective wasn’t part of the plan. He shouldn’t be there. This wasn’t about him.
It was about Katherine.
Rage built, built…
Katherine had been so afraid. She’d run, nearly tripping and slamming into the ground as she fled from her house.
This time, she couldn’t pretend to bury her nose in the sand and ignore the death around her. This time, it would be up close and personal for her.
Every attack, every kill, every heart…for Katherine.
She wouldn’t be able to act like her hands were clean anymore.
They’d never been clean.
Police sirens howled in the distance.
Time to go. Time to start hunting again.
The kill had been so easy. The rush better than sex. Life and death. Power and pleasure.
Pain. Fear. Release.
More, please.
The fun was just beginning.
Police cars raced onto the scene. Dane stepped away from Katherine. Almost immediately, she missed the warmth and security of his body.
She saw his partner emerge from a blue SUV. Uniformed cops swarmed the scene.
“There’s a package on the stairs.” Dane’s voice rang out. “Don’t contaminate it. We want the crime-scene guys getting it in pristine condition.”
And the crime-scene unit was already there. She saw them piling out and pulling on their gloves.
“You searched the scene?” Dane’s partner demanded as he loped toward the house.
“The house is clear, Mac,” Dane said, but he pointed to the dark trees. “As for the rest of the place…”
“Let’s get teams searching the woods!” Mac’s order snapped out like a whip, and the uniforms scrambled to obey.
Dane grabbed the nearest uniform. Then he pointed at Katherine. “Watch her, got me? Make sure you stay with her, every damn second.”
He was leaving her? She blinked. “Dane…”
But he was already heading toward the woods. Going after Valentine.
The uniform took up his position beside her, his body trembling a bit. “Did you—” he began, but his voice broke. “Did you really find a box from the killer, ma’am?” Sick fascination.
Don’t feel. Don’t think. “Yes, I did.” She recognized the box and the message it conveyed. The box and the flowers.
He wasn’t going to stop on his own, she knew that. He’d told her that.
I can’t stop. I have to kill. You understand…
She kept her eyes on Dane as he headed into the darkness.
No, I don’t understand. I never will.
Valentine might think she was his soul mate, but they were nothing alike.
Nothing.
She wouldn’t let herself be like him.
Katherine sat in the back of the patrol car and watched as the evidence team finally came out of her house with the white box and the roses bagged for evidence.