Die for Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer

by Cynthia Eden

  Katherine got out of the sports car. The shrink followed her. They went up onto the porch. The shrink pulled her close.

  Asshole.

  The guy put his hands on Katherine’s smooth skin. Curled his palms over her shoulders.

  Bastard.

  Dane ground his teeth together. You don’t know her. She can have sex with whoever she wants.

  And she probably did.

  But not that night.

  Katherine pushed away from the shrink with a sad shake of her head. While the guy’s hands fisted, she turned away and headed into the house alone.

  Dane started breathing again.

  The shrink watched her for a moment or two longer. Glared at the closed door.

  Keep moving, jerk. Nothing to see here.

  The shrink went back to his fancy ride. Cranked the engine. Drove away a little too fast.

  Dane smiled.

  The lights flashed on inside Katherine’s house. Good. She was in safe for the night. Now maybe the tight tension that coiled his muscles would go away.

  That had been awkward, but at least Trent knew where they now stood. It wouldn’t have been fair to lead the guy on, not when she couldn’t make herself feel anything for him.

  But then, she hadn’t felt very much in the past few years. Half the time, it seemed as if she were wrapped in some kind of fog, moving slowly through life.

  You felt something when you were with the detective. The whisper slid through her mind. Katherine swallowed and turned toward the stairs. Right then, she didn’t want to think too much about the dark and dangerous detective. Instead, she wanted—

  She came to an abrupt stop.

  There were roses on the stairs.

  The breath froze in Katherine’s chest.

  Once upon a time, roses had been her favorite flowers. Then she’d learned just what Michael had been doing with the roses. Buying a dozen roses…then leaving one with his victim and bringing the remaining eleven to her.

  He brought them to me after each kill.

  Her cheeks were wet now. Her hands were shaking.

  And there were fucking roses on her stairs. In my house. “No,” Katherine whispered. This could not be happening.

  But there was something beside the roses. A small box. It almost looked like a candy box from one of those fancy chocolate shops that she’d seen in the French Quarter a few times. Slender, long…

  She was walking toward the box. She should be getting the hell out of there, but it was as if she were being pulled forward, forced toward that box.

  I’ll look inside. It will just be chocolate. Trent could have left the candy and the flowers when I wasn’t looking. He dropped them off when he was here earlier and I was getting my purse.

  It didn’t have to be from Valentine.

  But he always sent me flowers after each death. She just hadn’t realized that fact until it was too late. He’d sent her eleven roses, and his victim—each time his victim had the twelfth rose.

  Her breath sawed out of her lungs as her gaze locked on those roses. Helplessly she began to count them.

  One, two, three…

  The scent of the roses was sickly sweet.

  Four, five, six…

  There were thorns on the roses. Thorns that would draw blood.

  Seven, eight, nine…

  Her heart beat so hard that it hurt her chest.

  Ten. Eleven. Dear God, only eleven.

  The twelfth rose was missing.

  She picked up the box. Nearly dropped it because she was so scared and nervous. Then her shaking fingers lifted the lid off the box. Rose petals fell onto the steps. Then she screamed, a long, desperate sound, but one that also burned with rage because the sick bastard was back. He was playing his games with her—with his victims—all over again.

  There was no chocolate in the box.

  She dropped it. Jumped back.

  Katherine whirled and ran for the door. Get away, get away, get away.

  Because the nightmare of her past had found her once more.

  The front door flew open and Katherine ran down the steps.

  Adrenaline shot through Dane’s veins as he jumped from his vehicle. “Katherine!”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. She was racing toward her little car, and even though he shouted for her to stop, she just kept going.

  She jumped inside the small VW convertible. He saw the headlights flash on.

  Dammit.

  Dane leapt in front of her car, knowing the headlights would shine right on him. “Katherine, stop!”

  The car’s engine revved.

  He held up his hands. “Stop.”

  The motor died away.

  Slowly, Dane crept around the car. “Open the door.” He knew she could hear him.

  After the smallest of hesitations, she did.

  “What happened?” he asked. She’d said she wouldn’t run, but the woman sure seemed to be hauling ass.

  She climbed from the car—and threw her arms around him. Katherine held tight to him, felt right against him, and Dane found himself wrapping his arms around her.

  Pulling her even closer.

  Her hair brushed against his nose, bringing him more of her scent, and her body pressed perfectly against his.

  “Katherine…” He took a breath, almost tasted her. “What’s going on?”

  She tilted her head back to stare up at him, and, with the moonlight shining down on them, Dane saw the glint of tears in her lashes. “He gave me his heart,” she said.

  The shrink asshole? Or Valentine? He knew Valentine had been wild for her.

  She swallowed. “Not his heart, though, is it? It’s hers. The bastard left it on my stairs.”

  Understanding hit him. Fuck. He yanked out his phone. Called instantly for backup even as he kept a strong hold on Katherine. Not getting away from me. “What did you see?” he demanded as he waited for the line to connect. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe—

  “A box was on my stairs inside. The third step,” she whispered. “I opened it. Rose petals were inside. Rose petals and a picture.” She drew in a ragged breath. “It was a photograph of Savannah’s chest with a knife driven into her heart.”

  He glanced back at the house. The seemingly perfect house.

  The call finally connected. He immediately barked, “This is Detective Dane Black. I need a team out at two-oh-one Byron West, and I need ’em fucking now.”

  His gaze darted around the darkened woods. No one close to hear the screams.

  If he’d just stayed at her house instead of following after Katherine like a lovesick teen with a hard-on, he would’ve had the killer.

  Had him.

  But maybe the bastard had left evidence behind that they could use. Something that could help him track the guy.

  “It’s him,” Katherine said, her voice a bit stronger now. “He wants me to know it’s him.”

  Dane had read more of the Valentine files before going to Katherine’s. He knew Valentine had taken pictures of his victims. Pictures of their dead bodies, with knives driven into their hearts. Then he’d delivered the stark black-and-white photos. One had gone to a victim’s parents. One to her lover. One to the FBI.

  This time, the delivery had been made to Katherine.

  He twined his fingers through hers. “Come with me.” He had to search the scene. The killer could still be in her house.

  “No, I can’t go back in—”

  “And I can’t leave you alone out here!” Leaving her unprotected was not an option he would take.

  She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. “Right.”

  He pulled out his gun and tightened his fingers around hers. “Stay with me. Every step, got it?”

  A slow nod. “Got it.”

  He stalked toward the house. Her front door hung open, and light spilled onto the porch. Katherine was a silent shadow behind him.

  He went in first, doing a sweep and keeping his gun up and ready. He saw the long-stemmed r
oses on her stairs, with the white box dropped next to them. Scattered rose petals trailed over the floor. He didn’t open the box. No sense contaminating the scene any further, and Katherine—she didn’t need to see that photograph again.

  They swept the bottom floor first. Dane made sure his body guarded Katherine at all times. Into one room. Another.

  No sign of an intruder. Nothing broken. Nothing disturbed.

  Just a deadly present left behind.

  Carefully they eased up the stairs. Two rooms waited up there. The first was filled with canvases, art supplies. Dark splashes of color—they almost looked like blood—coated the stark white canvases.

  The second room—it was her bedroom. The scent of strawberries was stronger there. The four-poster bed waited inside. Her clothes hung perfectly in her closet. Her small bathroom shone with clean precision.

  Again, no sign of the intruder.

  At least, no sign he could see. Maybe the crime-scene team would have better luck.

  The bastard’s not in the house.

  But that didn’t mean the perp had left the scene.

  Dane took Katherine back outside. They’d conducted the search in near silence. She’d been so close to him, her body had brushed against his with almost every step they’d taken.

  On the porch, his gaze tracked along the line of trees. There were too many places to hide out there.

  Dane wanted to race into the trees and find out if the bastard was still out there, hiding and watching, but he knew that keeping Katherine safe was the main priority. He couldn’t leave her, and in the dark woods, he wouldn’t be able to protect her.

  So he kept her close, using his body as a shield, and he waited for his backup to arrive.

  I’ll find you, bastard. I’ll stop you.

  Shaking hands clenched into tight fists.

  The detective wasn’t part of the plan. He shouldn’t be there. This wasn’t about him.

  It was about Katherine.

  Rage built, built…

  Katherine had been so afraid. She’d run, nearly tripping and slamming into the ground as she fled from her house.

  This time, she couldn’t pretend to bury her nose in the sand and ignore the death around her. This time, it would be up close and personal for her.

  Every attack, every kill, every heart…for Katherine.

  She wouldn’t be able to act like her hands were clean anymore.

  They’d never been clean.

  Police sirens howled in the distance.

  Time to go. Time to start hunting again.

  The kill had been so easy. The rush better than sex. Life and death. Power and pleasure.

  Pain. Fear. Release.

  More, please.

  The fun was just beginning.

  Police cars raced onto the scene. Dane stepped away from Katherine. Almost immediately, she missed the warmth and security of his body.

  She saw his partner emerge from a blue SUV. Uniformed cops swarmed the scene.

  “There’s a package on the stairs.” Dane’s voice rang out. “Don’t contaminate it. We want the crime-scene guys getting it in pristine condition.”

  And the crime-scene unit was already there. She saw them piling out and pulling on their gloves.

  “You searched the scene?” Dane’s partner demanded as he loped toward the house.

  “The house is clear, Mac,” Dane said, but he pointed to the dark trees. “As for the rest of the place…”

  “Let’s get teams searching the woods!” Mac’s order snapped out like a whip, and the uniforms scrambled to obey.

  Dane grabbed the nearest uniform. Then he pointed at Katherine. “Watch her, got me? Make sure you stay with her, every damn second.”

  He was leaving her? She blinked. “Dane…”

  But he was already heading toward the woods. Going after Valentine.

  The uniform took up his position beside her, his body trembling a bit. “Did you—” he began, but his voice broke. “Did you really find a box from the killer, ma’am?” Sick fascination.

  Don’t feel. Don’t think. “Yes, I did.” She recognized the box and the message it conveyed. The box and the flowers.

  He wasn’t going to stop on his own, she knew that. He’d told her that.

  I can’t stop. I have to kill. You understand…

  She kept her eyes on Dane as he headed into the darkness.

  No, I don’t understand. I never will.

  Valentine might think she was his soul mate, but they were nothing alike.

  Nothing.

  She wouldn’t let herself be like him.

  Katherine sat in the back of the patrol car and watched as the evidence team finally came out of her house with the white box and the roses bagged for evidence.

  She turned her gaze away. The other uniforms were piling into their vehicles, and the blue lights no longer lit up the scene. They hadn’t found Valentine.

  “What are you doing in there?” Dane’s voice. “Dammit,” he said to the uniform—her guard—who stood close by. “I told you to watch her, not to shove her into a patrol car!”

  “It’s okay, Dane,” she said with a sigh. She was still in her cocktail dress, and the headache that fear had scared away before was back now, pounding like a drum in her temples. “I asked if I could sit in here.” She slid her legs out of the car. Showed the high heels she still wore. “My feet were killing me.”

  His gaze dropped to her legs. “You’re comin’ with me,” he told her, and his stare slowly rose to lock on hers.

  Her brows lifted. “To the station? Tonight?” They’d been searching her property for hours. She’d been interviewed over and over again by Dane’s partner. She’d told him every detail about her discovery.

  Dane caught her arm and pulled her from the car. “I’m not taking you to the station.”

  There was a tightness to his mouth that hadn’t been there before.

  “He was in your house.” He clenched his jaw as he said this. “If he’d wanted, he could have stayed inside and attacked you when you came home.”

  Valentine had never attacked her. “He never hurt me,” she whispered.

  “Before he didn’t, but how the hell do any of us know what he’s going to do now? Every report I read said he was psychotic and that he was totally fixated on you.”

  She flinched. She didn’t want to think about that. Because if she did, then she’d feel the guilt again. So much guilt that it seemed to choke her some days.

  “He targeted you tonight, and you are damn well getting police protection.”

  Did he think she’d refuse? She wasn’t the crazy one. Despite what one of the profilers back in Boston had believed.

  “Until we catch this bastard, I’m making sure that you have someone watching you, twenty-four seven.” His eyes were lit with a stark intensity.

  “Am I supposed to argue?” Katherine whispered. “I want him stopped. I want all of this to end.” She’d told him that before. If they could catch Valentine, then she might be able to sleep through a night, just once, without the nightmares waking her.

  “Good.” He gave a grim nod. “Because your protection is starting right now.” A brief pause, and the heat in his gaze seemed to burn brighter. “And you’re gonna be spending the night with me.”

  – 4 –

  “I thought you said that you had an extra room.” Katherine’s gaze swept around the small condo. She could see a kitchen. A den. And then…just one door that seemed to lead to a darkened bedroom.

  She glanced over at Dane. Dark stubble lined his jaw. His hand rubbed across the stubble, rasping slightly. “I might have exaggerated on that,” he said.

  Katherine stared back at him. “Did you now?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” He offered her a tired smile. “I do know how to play the gentleman.”

  Had she asked him to play a role? She didn’t like it when a man pretended to be someone he wasn’t. She’d rather see the frog, warts and all, tha
n ever think she was with a Prince Charming again.

  “Sorry you couldn’t get any clothes from your place,” Dane told her. His gaze was so watchful. She knew the guy was trying to figure her out.

  Good luck with that.

  “But the techs wanted to be thorough.”

  Right. Because her home was a crime scene once again.

  Katherine kicked out of her high heels. Her toes curled into the thick carpet. The condo was nice, clean, and dominated by a flat-screen TV. The guy had to be a Marlins fan. She could see one wall was decorated with caps and a signed bat.

  It was odd being in a man’s place again. It was the first time since Boston that she’d actually gone inside a man’s home. She hadn’t even ever visited Trent’s apartment.

  “You can borrow one of my shirts for tonight.” He eased past her and headed into the darkened bedroom. Katherine followed him. The carpet muffled their footsteps. “I’m sure the techs will have clothes for you by morning,” he added.

  “Or I’ll just buy something.” She kept her voice calm. She’d been doing her best to hold onto her self-control ever since she’d found the package waiting for her. Don’t think about it. Don’t see that poor woman.

  But she knew the image would stay with her. She never forgot any of Valentine’s victims. He wouldn’t let her.

  Dane was rummaging around in a drawer, and he pulled out an old T-shirt. THE MARINES. She blinked. “I didn’t realize you were a military guy.” The hair that brushed his shoulders sure hadn’t clued her in. But the alpha attitude, yeah, that seemed to fit.

  “Semper Fi,” he murmured as he tossed her the shirt. “Uncle Sam paid for my college.”

  She caught the shirt, her fingers closing around the soft fabric. “In the marines…is that where you got the tattoo?”

  He smiled faintly. “Yeah. I guess you could call it an initiation, of sorts.” He lifted his sleeve to show her the twisting lines of a snake. “It’s to remind me that danger’s out there. And you need to be ready for it to strike at any time.”