The injection site. So incredibly small. Placed right above the jugular so the drug would have been pushed into the victim’s system immediately.
Savannah never had a chance.
“Dr. Thomas?”
She jumped at the deep, rumbling voice—a voice that was all too familiar to her. She spun around and saw Mac standing in the doorway.
A slightly disheveled blonde woman was next to him.
“Dr. Thomas…” Mac was formal only when others were around. When they were alone, it was quite a different story. “Are we clear to view Trent Lancaster’s body?”
Her gaze darted to the blonde once more. Right. Right. That was Evelyn Knight—she’d heard rumbles about her from some of the uniforms who’d dropped by earlier. Evelyn had gone on the air and outed Katherine Cole.
She hadn’t expected Evelyn to look so fragile.
Evelyn’s shocked gaze was on Savannah Slater’s body. Ronnie jumped to attention and hurriedly covered Savannah once more. “Yes, yes, of course. Give me just a moment.”
She took a deep breath. She wanted to race over to the body of Amy Evans and search for a puncture wound, but word had come down from the captain that she was to make sure Evelyn saw Lancaster’s body.
Apparently the woman had said she wouldn’t leave the station until she saw Trent.
After her outburst to the media, the captain was trying to placate her.
Ronnie knew that Harley’s placating moves rarely lasted long.
Evelyn’s high heels tapped over the tile. “Which one? Where is Trent?”
Ronnie quickly adjusted a new pair of latex gloves. “He’s here.” She pointed toward the sheet-covered body. “And, Dr. Knight, I’m very sorry for your loss.” Ronnie had said those words hundreds of times—but she meant them. She hated seeing people in pain as they viewed their loved ones.
Evelyn’s eyes teared up, but she gave a grim nod.
Carefully, Ronnie pulled down the sheet, revealing only Trent’s face. His face was uninjured—actually, it looked almost as if the man were sleeping. Evelyn didn’t need to see the rest of his body. There was no reason for her to have those images in her mind.
A sob choked from Evelyn. “He was—he was my best friend.”
Ronnie pulled the sheet back into place. Then she put her body in front of Lancaster. It was a distancing technique that she often used. Show the body, get the focus of the grieving party, help him or her to leave the morgue.
The morgue was no place for the living—well, for most of them, anyway. Ronnie had always felt strangely at home there.
Helping those who deserved their justice.
“Did he suffer?” Evelyn asked, lifting her chin.
He had, but there was no need for Evelyn to know that. Ronnie’s gaze cut to Mac, and he gave a barely perceptible nod, then reached for Evelyn’s elbow.
“It’s time to go, Dr. Knight.”
“He suffered, didn’t he?”
All of Valentine’s victims had suffered. Evelyn would know that.
“I’m going to take you home,” Mac told Evelyn. “You need to get some rest.”
A tear slid down the woman’s cheek. “I don’t understand what’s happening.” But she let herself be pulled away.
Mac glanced back at Ronnie. His gaze swept over her. I’ll be back. He mouthed the words.
It was her turn to nod.
She didn’t think anyone knew about her relationship with Mac, and she wanted to keep it that way. Being gossiped about wasn’t her thing.
The doors swung shut behind Mac and Evelyn.
Ronnie waited a few moments, until she was sure they were gone. Then she reached for her flashlight.
She thoroughly searched Trent Lancaster’s body but found no sign of an injection.
Then she checked the body of Amy Evans.
Amy had the same small bruise on her neck that Savannah did. The drug had been sent right into her.
Ronnie frowned as she stared down at Amy’s body. Amy and Savannah were both slender women, and both barely five feet five inches tall. As far as she knew, Valentine had never drugged his earlier victims.
He’d charmed them, seduced them into coming with him.
But he’d drugged these two.
She tossed her gloves and reached for her phone. Her temples were starting to pound. “Hey, Mike? Yeah, it’s Ronnie. I want a rush on the Lancaster tox screen, okay? I need that report as soon as possible.”
This could very well be the break that the PD needed. They could trace the drug and find their killer.
Katherine awoke with a scream. Her heart was pounding, her body tight with fear and slick with sweat.
She’d been back in her basement again. Tied down on the table. Valentine had been over her with his knife gripped in his hand. She’d wanted to beg him to let her go, but duct tape had covered her mouth. She hadn’t been able to scream. Hadn’t been able to beg.
Then he’d lifted the knife over her.
That was when she awoke.
Katherine climbed from the bed. The T-shirt and old jogging shorts she wore—clothes that had been brought to her, courtesy of the PD—seemed to stick to her skin. The bedroom was too small. Closing her in. She had to be outside. To feel fresh air on her cheeks.
To clear the scent of blood and death from her nose.
Katherine opened her bedroom door with barely a sound. The hallway and living room were dark, but her eyes quickly adjusted, and she didn’t bother turning on any light. She didn’t want to wake Dane.
She’d just go out on the balcony for a moment. Breathe air that didn’t taste like death. Then the chill would finally be chased from her bones.
Until the dreams came back.
“What are you doing?” His voice rumbled from the darkness.
Katherine jumped, her hand just inches from the balcony door. She spun around as a lamp flickered on. She saw Dane sitting in an oversize chair to her right. His hand was still on the lamp. His eyes were on hers.
She swallowed. “I just needed some fresh air.”
His gaze weighed her. Then Dane gave a nod and rose to his feet. He was wearing just a pair of jeans that clung loosely to his hips. “I’ll come with you,” he said, picking up the gun that she hadn’t noticed beside the lamp.
Dane tucked the gun into the back waistband of his jeans. The muscles of his chest and shoulders rippled, reminding her of his strength.
She stared at him a moment, lost in the shadows that slid over his skin. Dane Black was a dangerous man. Strong and deadly. So why didn’t he scare her? “Have you killed before?” The question slipped from her.