When he saw her, he tensed and his eyes narrowed. “Monica? What happened?”
She dropped her bag and kicked the door closed. Shaking her head, Monica went to him. She didn’t give a damn about her clothes getting wet when she wrapped her arms around him and held tight. She just needed him. “We found Bob Kyle.” So Luke wasn’t officially working the case. He still knew every detail. Luke had made a point of knowing every detail.
His arms closed around her. “How bad?”
She took a quick breath. “One of the worst I’ve seen.” Holding it together, staring at that body, guiding the crime techs—so hard. She’d just wanted to turn away. To close her eyes and pretend that she didn’t see him.
She was in the FBI to stop shit like that. Seeing it made her gut clenched. “He was sick. He didn’t deserve… hell, he couldn’t even tell us what Phoenix looked like.” Kyle had needed help.
He’d gotten—no, she didn’t want to think about what he’d gotten.
Luke’s fingers came up under her chin, and he gently tipped back her head. “How did Phoenix get to him?”
She licked her lips. “He—Kyle ran from the safe house.” Because the demons had driven him out. Going back on the meds, the new environment, the cops around him—it had been too much for him. He’d broken. She’d worried he would. Just hours before, she’d been talking to his VA doc in an attempt to get more help for Bob. “I think Phoenix must have been watching. He followed him.” Phoenix found the perfect deserted spot, and he cut Bob’s throat so the guy couldn’t scream. Then Phoenix torched him.
How long had it taken Kyle to die?
Please not too long.
“The guy didn’t even fit his pattern.” Her gaze held his. “Kyle hadn’t broken any laws. Hadn’t hurt anyone.”
No, he hadn’t.
“His crime was being in the wrong place.” Hardly something worth dying for. Her lips trembled, a tremble she’d never allow outside, in front of the others.
She was the cold one. Ice. The Bitch.
She could take the cases, take on the killers, and not flinch.
On the outside.
But with Luke, here, just the two of them, she didn’t have to pretend. He was the only one to see past the mask.
He’d always seen.
Monica rose onto her toes and caught the back of his head with her hands. She kissed him, hard and deep, as she crushed her mouth to his.
His hands tightened on her. His body pressed against her. Every solid, strong inch reminded her that he was there. Real.
And she wasn’t alone with the monsters anymore.
But the stench of death was on her, and she didn’t want it coming between them.
Monica eased back and took a quick breath. “I need to—”
His eyes were so deep. “Let’s wash it away.”
Because he knew her.
He took her hand and led her into the steam-filled bathroom. This was a trick they used after their cases. They tried to wash away the memories of death.
The trick didn’t really work, though. Nothing could wash them away. But she didn’t like touching him when death had been so close to her hands.
Luke twisted the shower knob. When the water poured down, he dropped his towel.
Her fingers lifted and went to work on the buttons of her shirt.
“No, let me…” Gruff voice, gentle hands.
Carefully, so carefully, he stripped off her shirt and tossed it to the floor.
Instinct led Kenton back to Lora’s house. Yellow caution tape sectioned off the property. The sides of her white house were scorched black, and the lower windows had shattered.
When he closed his eyes, he could still see Lora flying from that fire.
And when he opened his eyes, he could see the man edging slowly around the right side of her house.
Fuck.
Kenton took out his weapon and eased under the tape. The old adage was true—some perps just had to return to their crime scenes. Some got off on seeing the pain they’d stirred, while others came back because they were afraid they’d left evidence behind.
He wondered which reason had brought Detective Peter Malone back to the scene.
Watching his step and easing carefully past the broken glass, Kenton crept up on his prey.
Malone was bent low, and his gaze locked on the bottom of the house.
Kenton aimed his gun dead center at the detective’s back. “Put your hands up, Malone. Nice and slow.”
Malone stiffened. “What the—Lake?” He started to turn around.
“Hands up! I’d hate to put a bullet in you because you didn’t listen.” Lie. Right then, putting a bullet into the guy was a big temptation.
Malone’s hands came up. He still faced the house.
“Keep ’em there.” Kenton went in fast and took the guy’s weapon. “Now turn around.”
Malone turned slowly. “What the hell is going on here, Special Agent?”
Kenton stared back at the guy. “You tell me.” He wouldn’t let the fury break through, not yet.
“I’m searching the crime scene! What the hell does it look like I’m—”
“Why haven’t you been answering your cell phone today, Malone?”
He blinked. “I don’t—” He glanced down at his waist and the phone secured to his belt. “The battery must be dead.”
Right. “Must be.”
Malone’s face flushed. “Stop pointing that damn gun at me!”
No. “Your men have been searching for you all morning.”
“For me?” His brows shot up. “Why?”
“Because you’re a person of interest in a homicide investigation.”
“Bullshit.” Malone dropped his hands.
Kenton shook his head. “You don’t want to do that.”
Those hands flew right back up. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here but—”
“Bob Kyle is dead.”
“What?”
“Kyle is dead, and your name has appeared in our investigation as a link between the victims.”
Malone didn’t speak, but his jaw fell a few inches.
“Why are you really here?” Kenton didn’t let his gaze stray to Lora’s house. “Did you come back for a souvenir?” Serials and their souvenirs—they always liked to collect keepsakes.
“Hell, no.” Rage burned in Malone’s words.
But Kenton’s hadn’t expected an instant confession. “I’m going to need you to come down to the station and answer some questions.” Actually, he’d need a lot more than that.