The bastard had just pushed too far. Dane stepped forward.
But then Katherine said, “It’s my life to risk.” She pointed toward the open interrogation room. “I suppose that’s my space? Excuse me, gentlemen.” She walked by them, her chin held high. “You can finish your little argument without me.”
Mac smothered a laugh as he hurried over and followed her inside the room. He shut the door, sealing them both inside.
Dane was going to join them, but first, hell yeah, he’d finish this “little argument.” He locked eyes with the marshal. “This isn’t a pissing contest.”
Ross didn’t blink. “Good. ’Cause I don’t need to piss.”
Dane almost smiled. Under other circumstances, he might like the guy. Maybe. “That woman can help me find the killer.”
“That woman is living on nerves and fear. She can’t help you.”
How could the guy not know her at all? Ross had been working with her for three years, but Dane felt like he knew Katherine so much better than the marshal did after just a day.
“You’re just making her a target,” Ross continued, his voice roughening, “and I’m the one who’ll have to bury her body.” His lips twisted. “Because there’s no one else left. She’s already lost everyone else who cared about her. Valentine made sure she had no one.”
Dane frowned. He hadn’t realized how truly alone Katherine was.
“He isolated her. He used her. And, eventually,” Ross said, with a sad shake of his head, “he would have killed her.”
Dane started to respond.
“I’m afraid you’re wrong, Marshal,” a new voice said. It was a slightly nasal voice, one belonging to a thin man who’d followed Harley across the room. The guy was in his late twenties, with curly brown hair, and he wore a rumpled, dark gray suit.
“Aw, hell, now the head case expert is here,” Ross muttered as he ran a rough hand through his close-cropped hair.
The newcomer frowned at him. “Nice to see you again, too, Marshal.”
“Captain.” Dane jerked his head in a nod, ready for the intro with this guy. But he already had a pretty good idea who’d just joined their little party.
“This is FBI agent Marcus Wayne,” Harley said with a wave of his hand. “He flew down—”
“As soon as I heard the details of Savannah Slater’s death,” Marcus cut in, speaking quickly. “I wanted to be on-scene immediately.”
Wasn’t that grand. “Are the feds taking over?” Dane bluntly asked his captain.
The lines near Harley’s thin lips deepened. “This is our case. No state lines have been crossed, no multiple homicides. As far as I’m concerned, we’re looking at a simple murder. Twisted, brutal, but ours.”
The captain was territorial about his cases. Good. So was Dane.
But Marcus shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s nothing simple about this case. Either you gentlemen have got the real deal—and if you do, then you’ll need me—or you’ve got a copycat who’s out to grab some of Valentine’s headlines.”
“I really didn’t need a fed to tell me that,” Dane muttered, aggravated. He’d been working as a cop for more than ten years. “We might be a bit slow on some things down in the South, but we know murder.”
“And I know murder.” Marcus stretched to his full height. About five foot seven inches. “I know Valentine. I’ve studied his case inside and out. I can help you.”
Or he could get in the way.
For now, Dane would be forced to wait and see how things played out.
Marcus glanced over at Ross. “I’m surprised you haven’t been reassigned.” He paused. “Or did you insist on staying with the case?”
Ross didn’t answer.
Marcus glanced back at Dane. His assessing gaze didn’t make Dane nervous. It irritated him. He was irritated even more when the guy rather pompously said, “Detective, you know I’ll want to talk to her.”
“The way you talked to her three years ago?” Ross cut in. “You know the woman hates your guts, man.”
This was just getting better and better. “We’re trying to get Katherine’s cooperation here,” Dane said, “not alienate her more.” And if Katherine didn’t like the profiler…
But Marcus shook his head. “You don’t understand her. She isn’t a victim.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Ross threw his hands into the air. “Just because Valentine didn’t slice her up,” Ross snapped, “it doesn’t mean the prick didn’t hurt her. I’ve been there. I’ve heard the screams from her nightmares.”
But she hadn’t screamed last night. Dane wasn’t sure if that meant her nightmares had stopped or if she’d just learned not to scream.
“People scream for all kinds of reasons,” Marcus said, his nasal voice irritating the shit out of Dane. “And I’ve wondered for a few years now…what gets to her?”
Dane’s gaze met the captain’s. The bureau had seriously sent this prick down to them? They must have better profilers. Somewhere.
“I know Valentine,” Marcus said, his voice cracking. “Give me a chance, and I’ll prove it.”
The captain nodded even as he avoided Dane’s gaze. “You have your chance, but if you do anything to jeopardize this case, I’ll personally kick your ass all the way back up to D.C.”
Blinking rapidly, Marcus nodded. Then he hurried toward the interrogation room.
Before Dane could follow him, Ross grabbed his arm. “Watch him,” Ross warned.
Dane lifted a brow.
“Three years ago, Marcus Wayne was convinced that Valentine had an accomplice in his crimes.”
An accomplice? That was news to Dane.
“His superiors thought the theory was BS, as did all the cops on the case. So Wayne got bumped from superstar profiler down to desk jockey.” Ross’s gaze was glued to Marcus’s back. “Want to know just who he thought that accomplice was?”
Hell.
“Katelynn,” Ross said softly.
The captain swore. “I think I need to get ready for some ass-kicking.”
Dane shook his head. “It will be my pleasure, Captain.” If anyone got to toss that guy out, it would be Dane. But first he asked, “If his theory is shit, then why is he back on the case?” Why the hell had the FBI brass sent the guy down to New Orleans?