by Paige Tyler
“Is it related to this case?”
“In a way.” Trace kept his voice low so that no one else in the room would hear. “I need you to check Carson Del Vecchio’s phone records for the last few months and let me know who he talked to on a regular basis.”
All it would take was a good list of suspects. Then he could get Finley to scrub the list for anyone who might be involved in the paranormal.
Muncie frowned in confusion. “What? Del Vecchio…the first serial killer that…” He broke off and looked at Cassidy still standing in the hallway, then back at him. “The one she pushed off the balcony?”
Trace nodded.
Muncie’s frown deepened. “What the hell does he have to with this?”
Trace hoped Muncie would be so worried about solving the case that he wouldn’t ask too many questions.
“Look, Muncie, I need you to trust me on this one, okay?”
The other man’s face darkened. “Like hell I will. If you have a reason to think one of Del Vecchio’s buddies is copycatting his murders, then why not say so? What the fuck are you hiding?”
Trace didn’t say anything.
“Dammit, Trace!” Muncie snapped loud enough for his fellow detectives and the crimes scene techs to look up from what they were doing. He muttered something under his breath and lowered his voice. “You haven’t been out of the force for so long that you forgot you can’t sit on info like this. If you know something, you need to tell me.”
Trace clenched his jaw. He knew where Muncie was coming from because he’d been there himself. The detective was frustrated as hell because he was into something that was way over his head, and he knew it. But Trace couldn’t come clean with him. Not yet. Hell, maybe not ever.
“Muncie, you already know this isn’t a simple copycat killer. That’s why you asked me to come here tonight. You know I can help you end this sonofabitch. Well, that’s what I’m trying to do. But I need you to do what I’m asking and not come at me with questions you don’t want the answers to. Okay?”
The muscle in the side of Muncie’s jaw flexed as he wrestled with what Trace was asking. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, I’ll do your digging. But when this is done, I’m going to ask those questions and you’re going to give me the answers.”
Trace inclined his head. “If you still want to know by then, I will.”
Muncie gave him a stiff nod, then walked off to talk to one of the techs. Trace left the detective to finish the worthless examination of the crime scene and went to find Cassidy.
She was still standing in the same spot, but he was relieved to see she didn’t look quite as pale as she had back in the apartment.
He reached out to brush her hair back from her face. “You okay?”
She gave him a sheepish look. “Yeah. I’m sorry about running out of there. It’s just that there was so much blood and…”
“Shh, don’t worry about it. I didn’t want you going in there in the first place.” He cupped her cheek. “It’s been a long night. Let’s go home and get some sleep.”
When she nodded, he took her hand and turned to head for the elevator. They hadn’t gone more than a few feet before Cassidy stopped short. Frowning, Trace turned and was surprised to see the color drain from her face. At first, he thought she was experiencing some kind of delayed reaction to seeing all the blood back in the apartment, but then he realized her gaze was locked on something down the hall.
There was the only thing Trace could think of that would make Cassidy go almost catatonic like she was—Del Vecchio. Trace jerked around, instinctively reaching for the sawed-off shotgun holstered under his jacket, cops be damned.
But there was no serial-killing ghost standing at the end of the hallway. Just a detective talking to an EMT.
He turned back to Cassidy. “Hey, you okay?”
She didn’t answer, but only continued to stare at the two men.
He slipped a finger beneath her chin, gently urging her to look at him. “Cassidy honey, what’s wrong?”
She stared blankly at him for a moment, then blinked in confusion. “Wh-what?”
“What made you stop? Did you see Del Vecchio?”
She shook her head. “No. I saw that EMT and…and it took me back to that night Darcy was murdered.”
Trace glanced down the hallway where the EMT was still talking to the detective, then turned back to Cassidy. “Memory is strange. Sometimes, you’ll see something or someone and it’ll transport you back in time, make you think you’re there again.”
“It probably wouldn’t even have triggered anything if he wasn’t the same EMT who showed up at my place that night,” she murmured. “I remember him leaning over me before I passed out. It all came back to me when I saw him just now and for a minute I was lying on that floor again, bleeding and terrified I was going to die.”
Trace put his arms around her and held her close. He hated seeing Cassidy so frightened. He was great at shooting monsters, but when it came to saying the right thing in situations like this, he was crappy. He wanted to kill Del Vecchio all over again for the hell that bastard had put her through.
“You’re with me now and you’re safe, Cassidy. Del Vecchio’s never going to hurt you again.”
He pulled away and tenderly brushed her hair back, then took her hand and started for the elevator again. This time, though, he was the one who stopped.
“What is it?” Cassidy asked.
He looked at her. “Are you sure he’s the same EMT?”
She nodded. “Positive. Why?”
Trace didn’t answer. He was too busy thinking of what Dillon Reynolds had said about Del Vecchio having a partner in crime. He knew it sounded crazy, but he couldn’t shake the idea the EMT might be the guy. Stamford was a city with a lot of EMTs. What were the chances of the same one responding to both Cassidy’s apartment the night she was attacked and that of the serial killer’s latest victim? A lot of EMTs could work their whole career and never respond to even one scene like this, much less two.
Turning around, he led Cassidy back into the apartment and walked straight up to Muncie. The detective was talking to the young cop who had been standing guard at the door when they’d first arrived. He stopped talking to look at Trace questioningly.
“I have someone I want you to check out, see if his phone number shows up on DelVecchio’s phone records,” Trace said.
“Who?” Muncie asked.
“The EMT talking to the detective out in the hallway.”
Muncie’s mouth tightened. “You have a reason to think he has something to do with these murders or you following another hunch?”
Why the hell couldn’t Muncie ever make anything easy? “I have a feeling about him, that’s all.”
“A feeling?” The uniform cop looked at Trace incredulously. “Detective, there’s no way that EMT could get past all the guests and into the bedroom to murder someone, then get back out without anyone seeing him. Not unless he can make himself invisible.”
Muncie gave the other cop a dark look that immediately shut the younger man up, before turning back to Trace. “I don’t have a clue where this is heading, but I’ve gone on less. I’ll check him out, see if there’s a connection between him and…the other guy.”
Trace nodded. “Thanks.”
Out in the hallway, the EMT was still talking to the detective and Trace led Cassidy past the two men as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. Though the EMT glanced at them, he didn’t give any indication he recognized Cassidy.
“Do you think the EMT could be involved in this?” she asked after the elevator doors closed and they were alone.
Trace shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’ve always trusted my gut and right now it’s telling me to check him out.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t understand. If he was Del Vecchio’s partner, then why not let me die that night?”
“Maybe that’s not his thing,” Trace said. “Maybe he got off on looking at
Del Vecchio’s handiwork.”
She grimaced. “That’s sick.”
It was also the perfect arrangement, not to mention reason enough to bring the serial killer back from the dead.
Chapter Sixteen
Trace was quiet on the drive back to his place. That was okay with Cassidy. She was too preoccupied with her thoughts to talk much anyway. She couldn’t stop thinking about the poor woman Del Vecchio had murdered. Marissa Day must have been terrified when his ghost suddenly appeared out of nowhere with that wicked looking knife in his hand. There was no way she could have gotten away from the serial killer trapped in a room with him. Cassidy could only imagine how he must have toyed with the woman before killing her. The memory of Cassidy’s own attack suddenly flashed into her head and she swallowed hard against the bile that rose in her throat. How many more women had to die at the hands of that butcher before Trace stopped him?
She frowned as she abruptly remembered something Muncie had said back at the crime scene. Inside, she set her purse on the counter, then turned to look at Trace. “Muncie said Marissa Day fit the same profile as the other victims. He meant she looked like me, didn’t he?”
Trace hesitated for a moment before answering. “Yes.”
“Del Vecchio killed her because he couldn’t get to me, didn’t he?”
Trace’s brows drew together. “Del Vecchio killed her because he’s a violent murderer, Cassidy.”
“But he’s picking his victims because they remind him of me. You said so yourself the other night. He substituted her for me because she was blonde and pretty, just as he substituted those four other women he’s killed since he came back.” Tears stung Cassidy’s eyes and she swallowed hard. “Maybe we should give him what he wants so all this can stop.”
Trace’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”
“That I should let him do what he came back here for and get it over with.”
“You don’t mean that, Cassidy.”
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and she wiped it away. “Yes, I do. I don’t want to do it, but I can’t let him murder any more women because of me, Trace.”
He closed the distance between them to take her in his arms. “Honey, I understand what you’re going through, but offering yourself up to Del Vecchio on a silver platter won’t solve anything. That sonofabitch had been killing women long before you ever pushed him off that balcony. Even if he succeeded in killing you—which I’m not going to let happen, by the way—he won’t stop. He’ll keep murdering innocent women, whether they remind him of you or not. He’s not going to turn off because you’re gone.”
Trace’s heart beat slow and steady beneath Cassidy’s ear and she drew strength as much from the rhythmic sound as she did from his words. He was right, of course. Giving herself over to Del Vecchio so he could kill her wouldn’t stop him from committing more murders. The only way to put an end to the killings was to rid the world of his ghost.
She lifted her head to look at Trace. “Promise me you’ll figure out a way to stop him before he kills again.”
Trace smoothed her hair back with a gentle hand. “I’m going to do everything I can, honey. If I’m right about the EMT being involved, then he should be able to lead me right to Del Vecchio’s body.”
Cassidy grimaced at the mention of the EMT. She’d been so focused on the woman who’d been murdered that she’d forgotten all about the EMT. She was still creeped out by the idea he might have chosen that line of work because he got off on seeing murder victims. It was depraved.
“Just thinking about that sicko leaning over me makes my skin crawl.” She shuddered. “I’m going to take a shower and try to wash some of the stench of this night off me. How about you?”
“Yeah, I could use one, too,” Trace admitted. “Want me to come in and scrub your back for you?”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
As he took her hand and led her into the bathroom, Cassidy tried to push Del Vecchio, the EMT and the gruesome crime scene from her mind. Unfortunately, that was a lot easier said than done. After she and Trace had both undressed and stepped into the warm shower, some of the tension started to disappear.
Grabbing the bar of soap, Trace lathered it between his hands, then slowly ran them over her naked body. He started at her shoulders, massaging them until all the tightness there was completely gone before working his way down her back.
“Mmm,” she breathed.
“Does that feel good?” Trace’s deep voice was soft in her ear.
“Very good.”
He reached around to her front, his hands lingering on her tummy for a moment before moving up to cup her breasts.
“How about this?” he asked as he played with her nipples.
Cassidy sighed and leaned back against the hard wall of his chest, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “Mm-hmm. You’re very good with your hands, did you know that?”
He chuckled softly. “I’m glad you think so.”
She hadn’t planned on sex being part of the equation when they’d stepped into the shower, but as Trace continued to pay a considerable amount of attention to her breasts, heat pooled between her thighs. He was unbelievably good not only at relaxing her, but getting her hot and bothered as well.
Releasing her breasts, he reached up to tilt the shower head so that warm water cascaded over them and rinsed off the soap. Cassidy opened her mouth to point out he hadn’t washed her other parts, but all that came out was another sigh as he pressed his muscular body up against hers again. His erection was hard and throbbing against her ass, telling her how aroused he was. Nice to know she was as good at getting him all bothered, too. When he cupped her breasts this time, he bent his head to trail hot kisses down her neck and she shivered with pleasure.
She barely had time to process how wonderful what he was doing felt before he slid one hand down her tummy to the juncture of her thighs. Finding her clit in the downy curls, he made slow, rhythmic circles on the sensitive nub with his fingers.
Cassidy reached back to grasp his muscular thigh with her hand, rotating her hips in time with his fingers. Trace let out a husky groan of approval in her ear as she rubbed up against his shaft. Moving away from her clit, he slipped his hand between her legs and slid his finger inside her.
Cassidy gasped, her pussy clenching tightly around his finger.
“God, you’re so wet,” he rasped.
She laughed lightly. “We are in the shower.”
He growled softly in her ear. “That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.”
Oh, she knew it all right. But all she could do was moan as he slid his finger in and out. Just when she thought he was going to drive her insane, he moved back to her clit to make little circular motions again.
But he wouldn’t let her come. Right when she was close to the edge, he stopped touching her clit and moved back down to slide his finger in her pussy again.
While she loved what he was doing, she’d had enough foreplay. She needed him inside her. Now.
Turning in his arms, she wrapped her hand around the back of his head and pulled him down for a long, searing kiss. Murmuring something against her mouth, Trace urged her backward until she was against the shower wall, then he grasped her ass in both hands and lifted her up, burying himself inside her in one smooth motion.
As his length filled her, Cassidy wrapped her legs around him and squeezed him tight. For some reason, their joining seemed even more intense than all the other times they’d made love and she clung to him as he pumped into her fast and hard. Each thrust of his hips shoved her back against the wall so forcefully she could barely catch her breath, but she didn’t care. What he was doing felt too damn good and she didn’t ever want him to stop. She wanted to get completely lost in him.
“Harder,” she demanded breathlessly. “Fuck me harder!”
Trace obeyed, tightening his grip on her ass and thrusting into her even more fiercely. When her climax finally was
hed over her, it was in a tidal wave of ecstasy so intense that it brought tears to her eyes and all she could do was cling to him and let the pleasure take her. Trace’s groans of release were hoarse in her ear, but she was so caught up in the flood of emotions coursing through her that she barely even heard him. She’d never experienced an orgasm that was so powerful, both physically and emotionally. Maybe because she’d never felt as close to any man as she felt to Trace at that moment.
Only after both their orgasms had subsided did Trace slowly ease her down to the floor. Cassidy stood there on trembling legs, her head on his chest. After a moment, he slipped his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. The tenderness she saw in his golden-brown eyes made her breath hitch. Had he felt the connection between them, too? She opened her mouth to tell him the words that were pouring out of her heart, but he silenced her with a long, lingering kiss.
When he lifted his head again, it was to give her a lazy grin. “Maybe we should take this into the bedroom. My hot water heater isn’t that big and in another few minutes, it’s going to get cold as hell in here.”
Cassidy laughed as he wrapped a towel around her and scooped her up in his arms. The words she’d wanted to say lingered on her tongue, but the moment to say them seemed to have disappeared. Maybe that was for the best. The night’s events had rattled her and it was possible all the overwhelming emotions she was feeling had been brought on by them. While she thought she knew what her heart was trying to tell her, she needed to see if she felt the same way about him in the morning. She hoped so because she desperately wanted these feelings for Trace to be real.
Chapter Seventeen
Trace’s cell phone rang at exactly four a.m. the next morning. He reached for it with a groan, fumbling with the buttons as he held it to his ear.
“Yeah.”
“Trace? It’s Muncie. Sorry to wake you, but I got a hit on Del Vecchio’s phone records and thought you’d want to know.”
Trace immediately came awake at that. He pushed himself up on one elbow. “What do you got?”
