He nodded and shuffled forward.
Curly reached for her bag. “I-I’m going home. I’ll talk to you later, Lee,” the nurse said.
Right. Like that was going to happen. Monica fired a glance at Luke.
He gave a slight nod and said, “Ah, miss, we’re gonna need to talk to you.”
Her baby blue eyes widened.
“So why don’t you just stay put a bit.” He flashed a smile. One with lots of teeth. “And we’ll all have a real, nice talk soon.”
Davis motioned and Melinda Jenkins, another deputy, stepped up beside the nurse. She’d been waiting for Monica outside the hospital. Petite and soft-spoken, but with a no-nonsense attitude. Good thinking on Davis’s part to bring Melinda in, especially with that dazed stare Lee was flashing at the nurse.
The nurse’s hold on her bag tightened. “B-but I didn’t do anything!”
“You were the nurse on duty, weren’t you?” Monica asked quietly. She knew the answer. Davis had pointed out the blonde when he’d led her off the elevator.
A grim nod.
“Then you were here when the killer struck. You saw him.” A pause. “And he saw you.”
That pretty face paled.
“I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere, ma’am,” Luke said, his drawl deepening, deliberately, she was sure, to make the nurse feel like she was talking to another good ole boy. “We need to ask you a few questions because we sure need your help.”
Melinda sidled close to the nurse. Real close. Monica met the deputy’s dark eyes and knew that Curly wouldn’t be getting away.
“Why don’t you come with me, honey…” Melinda said in that gentle voice of hers.
“But—but I just wanna go home.…”
“Ah, Sissy Sue, I’m afraid that’s just not an option right now.” Still soft, but no missing the steel.
Monica realized she could like Deputy Jones. If only she’d been on duty for the night, maybe Laura would still be breathing instead of being wheeled to the morgue.
She drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Davis stood by her side, his whole body tense. “One other thing you need to know about tonight, Sheriff.”
His brows pulled low.
“The killer made contact.”
Davis’s jaw dropped. “Bullshit.”
“Not quite. He called me,” probably right before the bastard had gone after Laura, judging by the lividity of the body and the waxy color of the flesh. “He knows we’re hunting him.” Her gaze held his. “And I think he likes it.”
Deputy Andrew “Andy” Vickers looked like he wanted to cry. Maybe he was crying. Luke narrowed his eyes and braced his legs as Monica began questioning the guy. Sheriff Davis stood to the right, shaking his head in disgust every few minutes.
“I didn’t leave! I didn’t!”
“Then who did you see?” Monica pressed. “This hallway was cleared. No other patients. Just Laura. Who did you see on her hallway? And why the hell didn’t you step up and stop—”
“Nurses and doctors!” he said, still rubbing his hand over his face. “All night… I only saw nurses and doctors coming to check on her. No one else!”
“You were supposed to stay at her door,” Luke said. “But you didn’t, did you?” He could just guess why. A reason that was about five-foot-two, one hundred and twenty pounds…
Shame there, flashing on Andy’s face. “I just went down to talk to Sissy. Ten minutes, I swear—and I could still make sure the hall was clear from the station. I could see the room!”
Bullshit. If he’d still been able to make sure the hall was clear, Laura wouldn’t be dead.
“That’s the only time you weren’t right next to Laura’s room?” Monica asked, pushing back her hair.
“Y-yeah…”
“Then who did you see? Who passed you when you were chumming it up with Sissy? Who?” When she got going, Monica could be fierce.
Hard. Smart. Sexy.
He cleared his throat.
Andy blinked a few times. “I-I… a doctor. Yeah, yeah—a doctor. He had on green scrubs and one of them little hats and—”
“Did you see his face?” Luke asked.
Andy’s eyes met his and fell.
Luke knew the answer before the quiet response even came. “No.”
Sissy Sue Hollings had enough nervous energy to fill up the whole room. Her body vibrated. Her curls bounced, and her eyes shifted from Monica to Luke to the Sheriff, then back. One really big circle, over and over again.
Monica crossed her arms. “When you were talking with Deputy Vickers—”
“At approximately 4:30 a.m.,” Luke felt obliged to help.
“Did you see a man walk past the nurse’s station?”
Sissy Sue’s lips parted.
“Did you, Sissy?” Now Davis was stepping up. He’d suspended Vickers, told the deputy he’d be sitting on the sidelines, but Davis’s anger still had his cheeks tinted red. “Did you see him?”
The faintest of nods. “But-but that was just a doctor—”
“Really?” Monica asked. “Which doctor was it? What was his name?”
Sissy’s mouth closed. A furrow grew between her brows.
Come on! “Did you see his face, Ms. Hollings?” Luke demanded.
She shook her head.
“Right.” Monica’s hands dropped. “And I’m guessing the idea of stopping him and asking for ID never crossed your mind.”
Or the deputy’s. But then, Luke knew exactly where Andy’s mind had been.
“He—he was a doctor…” Sissy’s whisper.
“No,” Monica told her. “He was a killer.”
Monica waited until she was alone to make the call. She didn’t bother calling the SSD. She used Hyde’s private line, a number she’d had for years.
“What happened?” No grogginess, no confusion. Blunt and hard. Always the way he answered the phone, and, of course, he knew it was her. He would have seen the caller ID.
Monica took a deep breath. “Laura Billings is dead.” She glanced down the long hospital corridor. Luke had gone back to talk to the family again. He’d come back with a list of names—friends, lovers. Luke had a way of working through the victims’ grief and always getting the information he needed. “He got to her, Hyde. Came right in the hospital last night and killed Laura in her bed.”
“Dammit. What about the guard? I know you stationed—”
“He walked right by him. Looks like our guy stole some scrubs and just slipped in.” Bold, but then, she’d already known that about the killer.
“This story is going to leak to the national media soon.” He sighed. “Kenton will be there in a few hours. Let him take care of the reporters. You just stick to working this perp.”
Her fingers tightened around the phone. “He made contact.”
Silence. Thick. The tension hummed over the cell.
“Run that by me again.” She could almost see him, pacing near that picture window in his den. He would have grabbed his cordless phone and gone in there immediately. He always thought better in his den.
“Earlier tonight…” Dawn was almost here now. “He slipped one of his notes under my motel room door and then he called.” She kept her voice even. Good thing she’d practiced doing that over the years. But if anyone could look past the surface, it was Hyde.
“He called the motel room?”
“No.” And this was worrying her. “My cell phone. I don’t know how he got access—and we need to find out—but he called my private line. I’ve already talked to Sam. The bastard used Laura’s phone, and he left it for me, right by our SUV.”
“Any prints?”
“Doubt it.” He wouldn’t have made a mistake like that. “I gave it to the techs down here for dusting. We’re also checking to see if any other calls were made by our guy.” The phone records should be ready for her by the time she got back to the station.
“Where’s Dante?”
“Talking with Laura’s family.” S
he turned, gazing out the window, and knew he’d be doing the same. “He wanted me to know he was watching. Fair enough, because I’m sure after him.”
“I don’t like it. Dammit, I don’t like any of this.”
Neither did she. “It’s not unexpected. Perps can often fixate on the agents assigned to track them. He knows the SSD is here. It’s a pissing match, sir. He’s trying to show he’s not going to be scared.” That we should be scared.
“Monica…” Not Davenport, not this time. “Are you okay?” Soft, quiet, and she knew it wasn’t her boss who was asking. It was the man who’d seen her through the dark.
“He doesn’t scare me.” It took so much more than this guy.
“If you need me, I’m there.”
He’d always been there.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, tapping lightly on the tile. She glanced over her shoulder. Luke was headed toward her. “Yes, sir, if we see the need for additional backup, I’ll make sure we contact you right away.” Her gaze held Luke’s.
“You do that,” Hyde said into her ear. “And you send me everything you’ve got on this perp. I don’t want him playing his games with you.”
Too late.
The sheriff gave them a room to work in at the station. Not a big office. Maybe a ten-by-eight space with one window. But the size didn’t matter. Luke was damn grateful they’d finally gotten some privacy and a solid door between them and the good folks of Jasper.
He and Vance had dragged one desk and two chairs inside. A war room. For him and Monica.
Luke waited until Deputy Pope walked out, then it was his turn for the interrogation. He closed the door, very softly. Leaning back against the wood, he got ready to work. “What did Hyde have to say?”
“He said he’s got Samantha cross-referencing murders in the U.S. that fit our pattern.” She pulled out a desk chair and when the wood slid across the tile, a long, painful squeak filled the air.
He paced toward her. “Our pattern? Our pattern is that the perp gets off on his kills. He tortures the victims, gives them their nightmares and—”
“Exactly.” She sat, nice and prim, and opened up her laptop. “He does.”
They hadn’t managed to save her. He’d been so stunned to see Laura gulping down air when they’d dug her out of that hole. Then to see her so pale and still in that hospital bed…
I’ll find you, bastard.
He could still hear the sound of her mother crying.
“The man we’re looking for…” Monica glanced up at him. “And we do know it’s a man, thanks to my call and the deputy’s description…”
Yeah, Vickers had been adamant about the perp being a male. Tall. Thin.
And Monica said the voice she’d heard had been masculine, low, grating, but certainly not female.
It fit. Most serials were males.
“Our guy’s kills are elaborate and designed for optimum fear.” Her nail tapped on the computer. “His murders didn’t just start here in Jasper. He’s killed before. For him, it’s all about the fear. He needs his victims to be afraid. He sets the stage, he plays with them—”
Like he’d started playing with her last night?
“When Samantha runs her screen, she’s not going to be looking for gunshot victims. She’s going to look for fear crimes. Unusual kills. Those that fit our guy’s signature.”
“But the Jenkins death looked like an accident at first. And Laura—hell, if we hadn’t found her grave, we wouldn’t have even known she was one of his victims.” So young, barely twenty-five. She could have just left town. Run off with a lover.
Or been buried alive.
“He’s good,” Monica said. “But Samantha is better. She’ll find one of his kills. It’s only a matter of time.”
And the early kills, if they could find them, would be sloppier. He knew serials improved their craft, such as it was, over time. They learned not to make mistakes and became more careful.
That’s why a lot of would-be serials were caught fast and sent down after only one kill.
But the others… they honed their craft. The more bodies, the harder they became to catch.
“No fingerprints are going to turn up on the notes he sent, and all the prints that were lifted from Laura’s hospital room,” she gave a little shrug, “they’ll all be identified. Our killer is organized.”
Yeah, he’d figured that, too. The “organized” killers always planned every move in advance, and their crime scenes were often meticulous.
“He’s highly intelligent,” Monica continued, “and for him, the crimes aren’t so much about fear, as controlling the fear. Making the victims tremble and beg while he holds all the power.”
He stared down at her.
“Odds are high our killer didn’t have power when he was younger. He was afraid, and it broke him.” Her gaze was on him, but he didn’t think she saw him there.
Luke yanked out his chair. “You think he started killing when he was a kid?”
“It’s definitely possible. But I know something set him off recently. Something made him start killing here, in this town. With these women. A trigger. We just have to find out what’s driving him—then we can find him.”
The sooner, the damn better.
“He knows them. By the time he kills them, he knows them better than any lover. He sees past the skin and into their hearts.” Her voice softened. “He breaks them, and he watches the fear roll over them.”
“Right before he kills them.” Bastard.
“He doesn’t rape them,” Monica said. “But this—the way he kills is still just as intimate. To him, it’s the most intimate he can be with anyone.”
“I’ll start working the victims and see if I can find any link between them.” He’d take the vics any day over the killers.
Monica gave a slow nod. “Okay. Sounds good.”
If he looked hard enough, there would be a link. Victims were rarely as random as people thought.
“Kenton will be down here in a few hours,” she said, her attention back on the computer. “We’ll use him to help question the friends and family.”
“How do you do it?” he asked, because she was slipping away from him.
He’d held her in his arms, come so close to claiming her again. But right then, Monica might as well have been a thousand miles away.
Her fingers hesitated over the keys. “Do what?”
“Get into their heads so well.” Because that’s where she was heading. Right into the killer’s mind. “It’s so easy for you. Like breathing.”
“Yes, it is.” She didn’t look at him.
“How?” Everybody had always wanted to know.
“I become the killer.” Still not looking at him, but there was something in her voice. A tension.
Almost sounded like fear. Almost.
“If you become them, then profiling…” She gave a little shrug. “It gets easier.”
Didn’t sound easy. The last thing he ever wanted to become was a fucked-up killer.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve got a lot to do, okay? Are you going to finish interviewing the hospital staff and the family?”
Ah, dismissed. Right. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”
That wall she’d surrounded herself with really pissed him off. He rose and sauntered around the old desk. She would see him. He skimmed his fingers down her cheek and Monica took a quick breath. But those eyes didn’t meet his.
“Luke…”
His muscles clenched. The way she said his name. Damn. “We’re working the case. We’re catching this asshole.” He had to say it because she needed to know what was coming. “But you and me, this thing between us… we’re finishing it, too.”
Finally, her bright gaze met his. “You don’t really know what you’re getting into.” A pause. “You can’t handle me, Dante.”
Now that sounded like a warning, and it sure didn’t sound like the woman who’d caught fire in his arms hours before. “Let me be the judge of that,”
he said.
Their gazes held. His fingers pressed against the satin of her skin.
A knock rapped at the door. He didn’t move. They were settling this first. “You backing away? Running?” He challenged, and he liked the way her eyes narrowed, just a bit, at that.
“I don’t run.”
The woman could be such a liar. She’d run from him but he’d finally caught her. Maybe.
The knock again. More of a pounding now.
Christ.
“I want you.” The words came out, bold, a little fast, from her lips.
And those words—they made him hard. Not the time. He gave a nod. “I’ll have you again.”
A real smile. Just a flash. For just a moment. “No, Dante, I’ll have you.”
Well, damn.
Then, because it sounded like the door was about to be knocked down, he left her.
But he’d be back. For her, he’d always be back. He yanked open the door, ready to confront one of the deputies. Someone who obviously didn’t understand that a closed door meant privacy, someone who—
“Hey there, Dante.” Kenton flashed him a wide smile.
Shit. Monica had said he wouldn’t be there until later.
“Good thing we got our own plane, huh?” Kenton craned his neck. “Nothing like flying first class. But, hell, is this our office? Figures.…”
Luke gave Monica one last, hard look.
“Uh, is everything okay in here?” Kenton’s gaze swept between them, lingered on Monica. “You okay, Monica?”
“Just fine.”
“Right.” That stare came back to Luke, seemed to weigh him. “So why don’t you guys bring me up to speed and let me know just what’s going on here?”
Two hours later, Luke and Kenton returned from their interviews. The door to their new office stood open, and Vance had paused outside. His head was cocked, his focus totally inside that small room.
“Always wanting what they can’t have.” Kenton said to Luke. “You had that same look on your face when you walked in and saw her.”
Luke’s jaw locked. He strode forward, and, blessedly, someone called out for Kenton. Luke could see through the doorway. Monica had pushed away from the desk. She’d worn a skirt today, and he caught a quick glimpse of her calves, then her smooth thighs as—
“Don’t even think it.” He muttered the words in the deputy’s ear. “You don’t want to mess with her.” But I so do.