Trent’s shaking hand pointed to a door on the left. Dane headed for the door. He yanked on his gloves; then a quick twist of the knob revealed that the doctors’ two offices were connected. The crime-scene techs followed behind him, and the acrid scent of vomit hit him immediately.
Hell.
He made his way to the desk and saw the scattered photos. The stark black-and-white images of Amy Evans’s death. Hell. Dane studied the small white box. He’d already initiated a search to track the package that had been delivered to Katherine. So far, that search hadn’t proved fruitful. He doubted this one would either. The nondescript package could have been purchased almost anywhere.
As for the rose petals and that vase of roses—eleven roses in that vase—he’d already started sweeps at the local florist shops.
The techs closed in around him. Dane knew they’d dust the box and the flowers for fingerprints. They’d dust the whole damn room. On a case this big, nothing could be overlooked.
Dane’s gaze darted back to the photographs.
The photos hadn’t been printed at some local drugstore. No tags were on the back of the images, no numbers that would lead them to a specific printer. But they could still analyze the paper and the ink.
Dane scanned the room. Nothing seemed disturbed or out of place. He hurried to the office’s main door. The lock hadn’t been damaged in any way.
He opened the door and found Mac with the two receptionists. “Did one of you put the package on Lancaster’s desk?” Dane asked.
They both shook their head.
“He locked his office on Friday night,” the redhead said, inching a bit closer to Mac. “And no packages came in that day.”
Amy had still been alive on Friday. The package couldn’t have come in then. Keeping his voice easy and calm, Dane asked, “What about this morning?”
The redhead shook her head. “The office stayed locked until Dr. Lancaster came in. No one went inside until then.”
“He came in looking angry,” the blonde said. “So we just stayed away from him.”
Yeah, Dane was sure the guy had been angry when he’d arrived.
“Are there any security cameras on this floor?” Dane asked.
“No, the doctors specifically requested that none be installed,” the blonde receptionist said. “They want to protect the privacy of their patients.”
He’d talk with the guard downstairs. Maybe there’d be footage of the perp entering or leaving the lobby. Or maybe the guard would remember seeing someone.
Dane turned away and headed back to the two shrinks.
Trent was still seated. His face was even paler than before, and his hands were curled tightly around the arms of his chair.
“Dr. Lancaster,” Dane began, “do you know anyone who would want to hurt your wife?”
Trent flinched. “Me.” The answer was stark, and not at all what Dane had expected. “Everyone else loved her. I was the one who f**ked things up and caused the divorce. I was the one pissed because she tried to take my practice.”
“Trent…” Dr. Knight began, her voice high and nervous as she edged toward him.
“I’m the one with the motive. I’m the one who wanted her to disappear, so let’s just cut through the crap, okay?” Trent shoved to his feet and swayed unsteadily. “I’ve been angry with her. She hated me, but that—” He broke off, swallowing. “I’d never do that to her. Not to anyone. It’s sick.” He was panting. “And Amy…she didn’t deserve it.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Amy.”
Dr. Knight stepped in front of him. She was a pretty woman, with hard, gray eyes. “That’s not a confession, Detective.”
He hadn’t thought it was.
“I was with Trent when he found the package. He’s clearly devastated.”
To Dane, it looked like the guy was heading into shock, but appearances could be deceiving.
Dr. Knight glanced at Trent but then moved closer to Dane. “I need to talk privately with you.”
He moved back and let the lady lead the way. She led him to the lobby, where Mac was just finishing up with the women. Mac headed toward them.
“But—” Dr. Knight began.
“This is my partner, Detective Mac Turner.” Whatever she wanted to say to him, she could also say to Mac.
Gray eyes darted between them, then briefly over her shoulder toward her office. “I could get into so much trouble for this.”
“For what?” Mac asked, keeping his voice low.
“I saw the pictures of poor Amy.” Her own voice sounded a bit broken. “But I’ve seen images like that before.”
Dane didn’t speak.
“When?” Mac asked quietly.
Dr. Knight glanced at the reception area. With her voice even quieter, she said, “I have a patient…had a patient…there’s confidentiality, but I can’t let anyone else die—”
“What about the patient?” Mac pushed.
“Have you heard of the Valentine Killer?” Dr. Knight leaned toward them. “Because he killed women, just like this. He bound them. Sliced their arms. Drove a knife into their heart. When I saw the rose petals scattered on Trent’s desk, I thought of him.” The phone rang, and she jumped. Her hand rose to cover her heart. “My patient is linked to Valentine.”
Then she grabbed Dane’s shirt. “I knew she was dangerous. I just didn’t realize she would kill.”
Dane didn’t move a muscle. “Doctor, are you telling me a patient of yours committed this crime?”
Mac froze beside him.
Miserable now, Dr. Knight nodded. “I thought she had her impulses under control, but my gut told me she was dangerous.” Dr. Knight’s eyes were now glued to the floor. “Katherine Cole.” The name was a hopeless whisper from Dr. Knight. “She was my patient. I’m afraid she’s the killer.”
– 10 –
The police officer trailing behind Katherine was in plainclothes—jeans and a dark T-shirt. He looked like a tired college student, just running into Joe’s Café to grab an early morning bite to eat. He didn’t even make eye contact with Katherine.
But she knew he was there. And she felt better for having him close by.
After Dane was called away, she’d dressed as fast as she could. She wasn’t going to hide in her house. She would get out, do her normal routine, and if Valentine was out there…