“We have Hounds around the perimeter of the cemetery. Just in case.” Holly’s voice sounded hollow to him, but he couldn’t afford to look at her right now. Instead he turned and caught Trey’s eye, tilting his head slightly to call the other wolf over. Within a few moments his second had freed himself from the group and headed his way.
“What’s up?” Trey asked, even as his gaze slid to the pair of Hounds beside him. Caine watched as Trey’s nostrils flared, no doubt taking in the pumpkin spice scent Holly wore today, and the musky flare of wolfhounds. Caine knew the moment Trey recognized Holly as the one his alpha had been cuddling.
“They think the killer might show up here. Keep an eye out, fetch Raj and Lee, and get them on perimeters.”
“We don’t think he’ll take anyone,” Brandt said. “But we damn well want to catch him.”
Trey’s chin jerked in a nod, not to Brandt, but to Caine. “Got it, boss.”
Then without so much as a second glance at the pair of Hounds, his wolf bounded back towards the crowd, gathered two men, and got straight down to business. Brandt gave a low, appreciative sound at the back of his throat. “Smooth.”
They were efficient, every bit like a wolf pack cutting elk from a herd. Caine twisted to see the STE alpha, but the wolfhound was already stepping away. He headed towards the rest of the pack, leaving her alone with Caine. She wrapped her arms around herself and offered him a bitter smile.
“He’s here,” she said, the muscle in her jaw flexing as she glanced around. “We won’t see him, but he’s here.”
Steel gray eyes flicked up to meet his, and he felt the answering certainty in his gut. Just like the day at the bar, when the killer had played hide and seek with them around the parking lot. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding. “Doesn’t mean I won’t try like hell to catch him.”
A smile touched her lips then, an answering predatory light sparking in that gaze of hers, turning her eyes to quicksilver, molten. “Oh, you and me both.”
She tilted her head towards the cemetery entrance. “We have half the precinct here. None of us wants to let him go.”
But she was a realist, just like Caine. She didn’t believe in fairy tales.
This guy was good. He wouldn’t be here if he thought even for a second that he’d get caught. That knowledge didn’t keep Holly from handing him a piece of paper, a sketch of the killer’s face. She had a stack in her hand that she passed to him as well. “For your pack.”
He nodded, then stared down at the bastard’s face, memorizing every detail. Short hair, loose around his face. Average, good ole boy look. Ordinary. He glanced up, watched the way Holly stared at the paper, hate and frustration plain across her features. Her lip curled back and she looked away, like a dog hiding a snarl. Probably not too far from the truth.
Caine took a step towards her, and Holly jerked, so startled she took a step back. She blew out a breath, the apology plain on her face, and he shook his head. It didn’t matter. How the woman could be a Hound was beyond him; she hid nothing, at least not to a wolf’s eyes. “Let’s find him.”
The tension eased out of her shoulders and the stiff way she held herself relaxed a notch, suddenly welcoming. He wanted to reach out and touch her, see if it brought all her walls back up around her, but he didn’t. With a tilt of his head in her direction, Caine headed off toward where he’d last seen Trey. A slight purse of his lips and a whistle later, and his second was trotting up to his side. He passed him the stack of sketches. “Show the other two. At least now we know who we’re looking for.”
Though in a way Caine already knew. His nose wouldn’t lie, and unlike appearances, scent wasn’t easily disguised. Not from a wolf’s nose. He tilted his head back into the wind and inhaled, first catching the sharp, earthy scent of autumn on the breeze. The crowd would make it difficult, but Caine was nothing if not patient. He stalked around the edge of the perimeter, fully intent on catching his prey.
The proceedings had started without him, stories of Claire spoken in gentle words, words deep with grief. He knew the moment Holly joined him, the quiet tread of her shoes over grass instantly recognizable. They searched together, fanning out. He spotted the occasional Hound outside the cemetery gates, random people visiting loved ones buried under earth and stone.
Holly stiffened beside him, her breath stopping short before a long inhale. Caine turned and inclined his head, instantly catching the faint whiff of wolf on the breeze. Faint, but definitely the man they wanted. He sprinted towards it, but Holly was faster. Despite her full set of curves, the woman had a mean set of legs on her, and she could sprint like the devil was on her tail. She had her gun out in a two-handed grip, and she ran cautiously, aware of everything, neatly sidestepping tombstones and bounding over graves.
It took all his self control not to bolt recklessly across the cemetery, but everything about her body language told him to hold back, that she was in charge here. More importantly, that she knew things he didn’t. He spotted the paper fluttering under a vase first, then noticed roses, a brilliant red against the gray tombstone behind them.
Caine sprinted up to it, reaching for the paper, but Holly stopped him by grabbing his arm. Slightly out of breath she panted, turning to get a look around. Nothing. “Don’t touch it. Evidence.”
“Yesterday—” But she shook her head and passed him the gun.
Then her steel gray eyes closed as her hand hovered the piece of notebook paper still flapping against the stone. For a second nothing happened, then a chill darted up his arms, lifting every hair on his skin. Caine stumbled back a step as a jolt of energy shot through him. Like a flash of lightning, it burned.
“What the hell?” He tightened his grip on the gun as her hair lifted around her slightly, flowing against the wind, circling her, as if caught in a mini-tornado revolving around her. Magick.
He’d never been anywhere near a Hound when they called it up full force and, for the first time, he was damn thankful he’d never been there. Another jolt passed through him, and Caine stiffened against it, swallowing back a growl as he spun to do his job. He took in the empty cemetery around him, but saw nothing but gravestone after gravestone disappearing up over the hill they’d run over.
“Damn,” she whispered. “Nothing.”
He turned back to her with a question, but Holly already had her cell phone in one hand and was dialing. “Lennox, we have another note. Up the hill, head west. No sign of our killer, and, no, this time no one touched it.”
She winced a little when she said that.
“It was evidence,” she added after hanging up the phone, and he nodded.
“I didn’t really care at that point. She was already dead.” Anger knotted down his spine, leaving him rigid and tense. “I wasn’t thinking beyond that.”
Like the fact that they could have used the evidence to stop him next time. Because there would be a next time. Creeps like this bastard didn’t just stop. Holly touched his arm, and Caine froze, watching her. It was the first time she’d really reached out to him. “I know. And we didn’t get anything off it anyway. He’s too careful for that. He’s not making mistakes yet.”
“Fuck.” Caine snorted. “And just when does he start making mistakes?”
And when those stormy eyes of hers glanced away, he had his answer. Maybe never.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Hopefully soon.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Typically when they get mad, when something goes wrong. Like a victim escaping.”
“He’s already had that.”
“And now he’s made it a game. I didn’t piss him off badly enough. He still got his kill that night; I was just supposed to be the encore.” The words were brittle, so thick with guilt that she had to gasp as she said it. Caine reached for her and she jerked her head back. “No. I’m good.”
“No. You’re not.” He knelt, the grass pressing against his knee as he leaned into catch her chin. Awareness jolted through him at the touch. Her skin was smoo
th under his fingertips, a curl of her hair tickling over his knuckles. He saw the raw pain in her eyes, saw the shield that she was so desperately trying to keep up cracking under the slight touch of his fingertips on her face. She leaned into his touch.
“You’re not. You can’t keep blaming yourself for escaping that night.”
Her lips twitched with the words she was about to say, but whatever they were, they died at the sound of running footsteps. She jerked back, rocking to her feet as Lennox came running up, a pair of lion-shifters behind her. Both men took one look at him and narrowed their eyes. Their hands-off posture couldn’t have been any clearer, though after one whiff of Lennox as she stepped closer, he decided they were fine ones to talk. She reeked of them both.
Lennox caught Holly by the arm. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” But Caine didn’t miss the way her hand shook when she reached up to shove a lock of hair behind her ear. Nor did anyone else. Her brother stepped around the pair of lions. He saw Caine and nodded.
“And no sign of the killer other than the note?” When Holly nodded, Brandt plowed on. “You follow the trail?”
“Just his scent.”
Fuck. The reminder that the bastard was still out there twisted through Caine, and he was moving to stand when Brandt caught him by the shoulder and held him down. “Lennox, want to get some of your dogs out here?”
She grinned at him. “Already on it.”
With a jerk of her head, both lion-shifters followed. Noticing the black phone in her hand, Caine knew she was calling in the rest of her pack. Brandt let him go then, the wolfhound suddenly seemed weary. No, exhausted. And, unlike his sister, Brandt Lawrence wasn’t the type of person to let his emotions wander freely over his face.
“Ol,” Brandt said, soft and soothing. It came out a low rumble that had Holly turning away, her arms already wrapped around herself, hugging tight. Damn her. Caine rose and caught her, pulling her into his embrace before he even realized what he was doing.
Something about her shut down his brain, made him react without thinking. Brandt watched them, his cool gaze professional, assessing. But the brother half was there too, a dark shadow that made damn sure Caine didn’t do anything stupid.
“You okay?” Brandt asked her, and she nodded.
“I’m fine.” She started to shrug out of Caine’s arms, but he held her anyway. Right here, right now, he felt in control. He was doing what he was supposed to do—meant to do—protecting. Reassuring.
And whether she could admit it or not, she needed it. The way she held herself, the way she leaned away from everyone, the raw flicker of emotions exposed on her face that she was constantly trying to shield from everyone else. So he wrapped her in his arms instead, and dared her personal demons to come knocking.
Her brother ran a hand over his face with a sigh. “You don’t look fine.”
Brandt’s gaze flicked to Caine. There was so much in that one look. The need to protect his sister, obviously, but there was more than that. Curiosity, acceptance, a vague sense of something Caine couldn’t quite place. “You didn’t look fine when I walked up,” he amended.
For a moment, Holly held herself absolutely still; she didn’t even breathe. Just stood there, eyes closed with her jaw so tight he thought it might snap. Caine loosened one arm to brush a thumb over her wrist, just a faint touch to remind her he was there, still holding her. A shudder ran through her and the tension leaked away.
“He’s not making any mistakes.” The words were straightforward, spoken without a hint of emotion, but he could feel the way her body lurched as she said them, as if just spitting out the words hurt her.
“Yet,” Caine said. “We just have to make him mad. You said so yourself.”
Kind of. But since it brought a smile to her face, he didn’t regret the words.
“We should be helping them, not standing here worrying about me.”
“No.” Brandt stepped closer. Close enough that Caine could smell the pine of the wolfhound’s aftershave, a light hint of cologne, the mint still on his breath from when he brushed his teeth that morning. “You’ve been ordered to stand down the rest of the day. The week.”
A whip slashing through her back would have had less effect. Holly jerked, ready to run, but Caine held her fast. Brandt caught her face and pressed his forehead to hers. “You need a break.”
“He’s going to kill again.”
“You’re not any good like this, Ol. You’re running yourself ragged. You’re not sleeping, and don’t even feed me bullshit lines, I was there last night. Nan says you haven’t slept much in weeks. Even Star’s exhausted with keeping you company at night.”
Her heart pounded so hard he could feel it. Caine closed his eyes, leaning in to scent the spice of her perfume, and underneath it, the sweaty smell of fear. Raw, untarnished panic.
Brandt’s lips twisted. “You’re too close to the case.”
“You can’t pull me!”
“I’m not. But you will take a week off. One week.”
“And if he takes another victim?” She shook, tremors racing through her from head to foot. Furious. Caine saw the outrage in those steely eyes and felt sorry for Brandt. They couldn’t have paid him enough to tell her this, but she needed it. Caine laid a kiss against her temple.
“There’s more than two weeks to the full moon yet.”
She stared her brother down, her hands fisted against Caine’s chest as she tried to shove him away. But Caine wouldn’t budge.
“He takes them early to rape them. Torture them. You know this,” Holly said.
Brandt shook his head, a slight grimace on his face. “If he takes another victim, we’ll talk. But, barring any activity, you’re on leave for a week.”
“Damn you,” she cursed at her brother. Holly leaned back into Caine’s arms, not happy, but not defeated yet either. The muscle in her jaw flexed and Caine knew without a doubt that she was already devising a way to get back to work. There was no way she’d truly take the week off and he couldn’t help but wonder if her brother realized that.
Still, it warmed Caine’s heart. He’d never seen a Hound care so much.
“Fine.” Holly turned away from her brother as a group of Hounds approached, two already shifted into large bloodhounds. They darted ahead, noses low to the ground, but Caine doubted they’d find the Hunter.
Holly had stopped when they’d found the rose and the note, and Caine could take a good guess at why. The Hunter had done what he’d come to do, he’d left his message. The roses caught his eye, a dozen in all, but under the vase sat the Hunter’s note. To Holly. Caine had no doubt about that, the killer was taunting her.
Caine heard her breath catch as he focused on the broad, black words on the page, reading the words he knew were meant for her:
Tick tock. Too late.
Chapter Ten
Ollie dug out her king-sized whiteboard, coughing from all the dust, and lugged it up the basement stairs. Vacation her long, skinny tail. She didn’t need one. Not when this monster was still out there, about to strike again. Unease cranked the knot between her shoulder blades tighter, and added a weight that just would not go away. Not until she caught him.
After hauling the big, awkward whiteboard up the stairs, she slid it over the cool linoleum floor in her kitchen and propped it up against the table. Dumping the assortment of colored markers on the floor, she plopped down and got to work. One by one, she listed each victim—name, age, occupation, date of capture, and date of death.
She was halfway through the listing when Brandt’s soft shoes scuffed the floor, followed by his sigh. “You lasted a whopping seventy-two hours.”
And barely that. The need to do something was eating her alive, burrowing straight through her stomach lining, and she could damn near feel the ulcers building in her gut. “I’m home. Technically, I’m relaxing. This just happens to be how I choose to relax.”
Brandt gave a quiet huff, but her brother didn’t argue.
Instead he slid down onto the floor next to her, legs stretched out in front of him. His faded blue jeans were even rattier than his last pair, a hole in one knee. She shot him a look. “How much vacation time do you have?”
“As long as I need.”
In other words, as long as he needed to make sure his sister wasn’t crazy. Ollie turned back to the task at hand, meticulously raiding her memory for every detail. Brandt waited in silence until she’d finished her list, no doubt reading every word, letting every fact sink in. He might have thought she was being stupid, not giving herself space from the case, but he was also a good Hound. “They all shifters?”
Ollie nodded. “Yeah. An assortment. The majority of them are wolves, but they’re abundant here. He never takes two from the same pack or group.”
Probably because it upped his chances of getting caught.
“Any similar victimology? Hair color, eye color, height, build?” Ollie shook her head, stopping him before he could continue.
“They’re all over the board. Doesn’t matter what they look like, what they shift into, where they work, or what they like to do in their free time. Other than the fact that the Hunter killed them, there’s nothing to connect one victim to the next.” She passed him the file she’d gathered at the academy.
It had been the case she’d picked for her final assignment. She’d had to study him and every one of his cases, develop a profile around him. “What matters to him is the kill. He needs them to run. In almost all of the cases there’s a shed in the woods, a shack, something. He keeps them there until the night before the full moon, lets them loose when it gets dark and waits for them to run. When they do, he hunts them down and kills them.
“In the few instances when he’s had nowhere to stash them, he’s left ropes behind. Ropes he cut through cleanly when he released them.”
Brandt drew small circles on the open file folder, careful not to look up. She watched her brother’s pulse quicken, then ease as he blew out a slow, quiet breath. “How’d you catch him that night?”
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