Her feet tensed. Her hands fisted. Ready to fight. Ready to flee.
She expected the jingle of cuffs. Instead, skin brushed against skin as he slipped his arms around her. Every muscle in her body tightened. It would be so easy to smack away his arms, to head-butt him in the chin, to duck and run. She pulled back her arm.
His lips brushed against the top of her head, and his arms dropped to his side.
The unexpected freedom left her off balance. She grabbed the bedpost. This was one of his head games. He was giving her a choice, giving her power. Right now she could walk away, duck into the shadows.
She shifted from one bare foot to the other. But that wouldn’t stop the Butcher. He would continue to kill, continue to hunt for her because she was the one who got away.
She took a single step, not toward the door but toward Hayden, and rested her cheek against the crisp coolness of his shirt, his heart beating calm and steady.
Click. His arms locked about her. Then came his words, delivered with a heat that surprised her. “This is one job he’s not going to finish.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday, June 14, 7:45 a.m.
Dorado Bay, Nevada
Hayden gave the fan blade a spin. It whirred smoothly, silently, just the way it should. He fastened the mesh frame in place and double-checked the clamps, making sure the blades were covered. Everything safe.
Unlike Kate.
Metal clanked as he threw a screwdriver and pliers into the toolbox. Jason Erickson had been found at the bottom of the lake, and the Butcher was still on the loose. And when—not if—he found out Kate was still alive, he’d go after her because his meticulous method of madness demanded he finish the job.
And to the Butcher, Kate was just a job.
Hayden slammed shut the toolbox lid. Now he had two lives on the line, including the woman who had the power to wrench his mind from his job.
“Evie and Hatch just drove up with Chief Greenfield right behind.” Kate handed him a cup of coffee, their fingers brushing. Heat that had nothing to do with the steaming brew flooded his arm.
He plugged in the fan, an arc of cool wind sweeping over his skin as Kate set down her own coffee cup with a rattle. She’d been rattled all morning, casting glances out the window and checking door and window locks. But he expected that from a woman who knew a serial killer was gunning for her. Which is why Hayden needed to focus on the job, and only the job.
When his teammates and the team from the Dorado Bay PD arrived, he dove in because the only surefire way to keep Kate safe was to catch the killer. “Jason is key,” Hayden said. “He’s not the Butcher, but he knew the Butcher and is somehow involved in the attacks. We find out more about Jason, we get one step closer to the Butcher.”
“Tell us about our boy.” Evie threaded her fingers together and cracked her knuckles, as if getting ready for a fight.
“Jason was raised by a mentally ill, abusive mother who showered him with warped love and despised Kate. Jason, on the other hand, adored his feisty older sister. Over the years, Jason’s mother descended further into ill health, both physically and mentally. Throughout all this, Jason tried to create order and peace in his family home and his world. In the end, he failed. Even his attack on Kate was a failure.”
“You still believe Jason attacked Kate?” Greenfield asked.
“Absolutely,” Kate said, her jaw raising more than a fraction. “I saw the scar. I saw his eyes.”
Hayden nodded. “The facts support her. Obedient and subservient to a fault, Jason attacked Kate three years ago, but he did it on someone else’s orders—the Butcher’s. Jason, who genuinely cared for Kate, hated himself for the attack, and he couldn’t stand to see himself after he stabbed her, so he broke the mirrors. He also folded her hands to try to make peace. Finally, he left the crime scene free of traceable evidence because he was a meticulous sort.”
“That makes sense,” Hatch said. “But why did the Butcher order the attack on Kate in the first place?”
“If we knew that, we’d probably know our Butcher,” Hayden said. “One of the things we’ll be working on over the next few days is finding out who wanted Kate dead three years ago, because that same person went on to kill the seven other broadcasters using Jason’s MO.”
“But why did he kill the other broadcasters?” Kate asked with audible frustration.
“Two possible scenarios. One, the Butcher’s a sociopath and has a fixation with female broadcasters. But I’m leaning toward number two. In this scenario, he killed the other broadcasters to flush you out. He figured once you made the connection between your attack and their deaths, you’d come out of hiding. Your strong sense of justice would demand it.”
Kate rubbed at her temples. “It’s so complex.”
“Serial murders with this degree of success usually are,” Hayden added. “The Butcher thought of everything. He killed the broadcasters, but he staged them in a way to make it look like Jason executed the kills. He meticulously thought out every detail. The Butcher planned the killings around Jason’s work schedule. He followed the same MO, including the mirrors. But he missed one thing that makes me certain a different individual killed the other broadcasters.”
“The knife,” Evie said.
Hayden nodded. “The seven broadcasters received a single immobilizing stab wound to the neck followed by two stabs to maximize blood loss, and so did Jason. Kate didn’t.”
Kate ground her fist into the center of her forehead as if her head ached. “But why did he start up after two and a half years of doing nothing?”
While he’d been working on the fan, Hayden asked himself the same thing. “Perhaps he’s been incapacitated for the past two years, possibly with an illness or some kind of physical restraint, like prison. Or it’s possible something happened in January that escalated his fear of you. The Butcher needs you dead, and something triggered that in January.”
“Maybe he needs to get me. Maybe we need to go fishing for him, and I’ll be the bait.”
“No.”
She jumped to her feet. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m in charge of this investigation, and I said no.” He pointed to her chair and waited for her to take a seat.
“Well Mr. In-Charge, you’re doing a piss-poor job because seven women have died under your watch.”
The words cut through his chest like a double-edged knife. But they were true. This was his watch, and the Butcher was still on the streets. He straightened his cuffs and looked Kate squarely in the eye. “And you won’t be number eight.”
Evie hopped up from her chair and started to pace. “Hold on, amigo. Kate’s on to something.”
Kate took a seat on the sofa next to him and placed her hand on his knee. “You said it yourself, Hayden. It’s me he wants. The killings started because of me, and they can end because of me. If we let him know where I’m at, he’ll come.”
He pictured Kate’s hand, bloody and resting on her lifeless chest, and swallowed. “No.”
“Why not?” Chief Greenfield asked. “Her brother and mother are dead. It would make sense for her to come back home, and we can make sure people know about it.”
“You’ll control the situation.” Kate’s hand pressed into his thigh. “I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“I said no.”
“Think this through, Professor. Really think.” Hatch leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. “You’ve been hunting this beast for months. Maybe Kate’s right. Maybe it’s time to stop hunting and go fishing. We could make the whole thing very public, have a big press conference, and get her image on television screens across the country.”
Hayden didn’t want Kate out in the open. He wanted to keep blood off those hands.
Evie popped him on the back of the head. “Where’s that big brain you’re supposed to have? We’re talking pure logic here. The fastest way to catch the Butcher is to dangle bait he can’t resist.”
Kate folded
her hands in her lap. “Which would be me.”
Every person in the room drilled him with a hard gaze, dared him to say they were wrong. He couldn’t. This thing had started with Kate and could very well end with her. She’d already pointed out the chilling number: seven deaths on his watch.
“We’re talking a press conference, Kate,” Hayden said. “Hundreds of people and cameras and questions. Everyone focused on you.” He forced out the words he didn’t want to say. “Are you sure?”
“Damned straight I am.”
In that moment, he saw the woman who’d stood in front of the camera for those “Justice for All” reports.
“What do you need me to do?” Kate asked.
Stay safe, he wanted to say. And stay in my arms. Instead he took out his computer and started to plan a fishing trip.
* * *
Sunday, June 14, 12:30 p.m.
Dorado Bay, Nevada
“I like it better without the scarf.”
Kate’s fingers stilled at her neck, where she’d been fluffing the green silk, her gaze meeting Hayden’s in the bathroom mirror.
“I like it better with the scarf.” She yanked the fabric, making sure the knot was secure.
He walked in, and the little bathroom closed in on her. Right now the entire world felt like it was closing in on her because in less than an hour, she’d be facing the world for the first time in three years. Scars and all. She pulled in a deep breath.
Cinnamon.
Hayden was here, rock solid and at her side. She wouldn’t have agreed to the press conference otherwise. She broke her gaze with him and fanned out the edges of the scarf. But that didn’t mean she liked the idea of bearing her scars for all the world to see.
His hands slid along her shoulders, his touch lighter than the gauzy silk. “You have a beautiful neck.” His fingers loosened the knot. How could such a big man have such a light touch? She’d felt it hours ago in that single kiss stolen in a moment of peace. The silk swished to the floor.
“Look.” His insistent fingers tilted her face toward her reflection. “You can barely see them.”
She forced her gaze to the scars that crisscrossed the right side of her neck and cringed. “I do.”
His hands dropped to his sides, and for the second time that day, a barely contained roar rumbled his chest. “Only because you’re looking for them.”
“Others will too.” She picked up the scarf and draped it around her neck. Of course she’d wear it, no matter how Hayden’s feathery touch made her feel.
“Kate, you’re a beautiful woman.” His fingertips rested on her shoulders. “You don’t need the scarf.”
“More psychobabble stuff, Hayden. I’m totally onto you. You’re trying to boost my courage before I go out in front of all those people and all those cameras.”
“And if I am?”
“This is no fairy tale. You don’t have magical powers, and your words won’t change who I am.”
He jerked her toward him. “Exactly who are you, Kate? And don’t give me a single line of vitriolic nonsense your mother planted in your head.”
She tried to pull away. He was crazy if he thought she would let her insane mother define who she was. She’d long ago escaped that dragon.
Hayden’s fingers dug into her shoulders. “She was the monster, Kate, not you. You have to get her out of your head.” One hand slid along her shoulder to her neck. Anything she’d been thinking, any words that thought about shooting off her tongue, disappeared. Did he feel the skip and quickening of her pulse?
Hayden bent toward her, and his lips parted, but they didn’t settle on hers. He went lower, to her neck, where his breath and then his lips brushed against her heated skin.
“You’re beautiful, Kate.” His lips traveled down the column of her throat, along the raised, white-hot scar. His tongue flicked at the spot where her pulse hammered. Then he raised his head and sunk his fingers into the silk scarf, which he tore off. “You don’t need it.”
She was too stunned to argue. With trembling fingers that had nothing to do with nerves over the press conference, she switched off the light and walked out of the bathroom, Hayden at her side, the silk scarf puddled on the floor.
* * *
Sunday, June 14, 1 p.m.
Dorado Bay, Nevada
Tripods clicked to attention, fingers tapped on mics, and bodies jockeyed for the best camera angle. Sights and sounds from her past. But at this press conference, Kate wouldn’t be reporting the story. She would be the story. She stood to the right of the podium, next to Hayden and behind two Dorado Bay police officers.
Chief Greenfield stepped up to the mic and read his prepared statement regarding Jason Erickson and the Broadcaster Butcher. Although the police chief spoke first, Kate knew the man directing this dog-and-pony show was FBI agent Hayden Reed, the same man who had sent her world out of kilter with a series of kisses. Her fingers slipped to the bare column of her throat. The skin was still ablaze.
When the chief finished his statement, Hayden took his turn at the podium. She watched his careful gestures, the occasional well-timed facial expressions, his lips. He was smooth and steady and masterful in the way he spoke. And kissed.
“We have a witness that has recently come forward,” Hayden was saying, “and she has been instrumental…”
Kate didn’t hear the rest of his words but focused on the pressure of Hayden’s lips against her neck. On his words. You’re beautiful, Kate.
“…she’ll now issue a brief statement. Katrina Erickson.”
A gasp rippled through the journalists as they crowded closer. Her feet twitched. Hayden held out his hand to her, and she reached for it. Cameras clicked and hands flew to lenses, tightening in on her face. Hayden nodded. She could do this.
On a small piece of paper in her pocket, Hayden had written what she needed to say, but she didn’t need a script.
“For those of you who don’t recognize me, I’m Katrina Erickson, and I’m a former news reporter for KTTL Frontline News. Three years ago I was attacked in Reno, stabbed twenty-four times by a man I have since identified as Jason Erickson, my brother.”
A soft murmur swept across the crowd.
“Like most of you, I feel angry at this senseless taking of life and at the gross injustice done to my seven fellow broadcasters, and I am working with the FBI and Dorado Bay Police to find the individual responsible for these deaths.”
That was the easy part. Truth always came easy to her. Her fingers dug into the podium ledge. “In the past week I have undergone memory recovery therapy and was able to recall that my brother, Jason Erickson, didn’t act alone. He had a partner, the killer who you know as the Broadcaster Butcher, and I have since given details to the authorities. It is my hope that this information will aid in apprehending this killer swiftly and that justice will be served.”
A display of fireworks exploded as more cameras flashed, capturing her face, which no doubt displayed her determination and her fear. The bait was set.
Now it was the Butcher’s turn. How would he react? Come at her? Kill another? Her legs were shaking as she walked from the podium toward Hayden.
“Ms. Erickson, how do you feel about your brother’s death?”
“Katrina, where have you been for the past two and a half years?”
She kept walking. She’d given what she could. Right now there was nothing left.
Behind her, Chief Greenfield took the podium, but she didn’t hear what he said.
“Perfect,” Hayden said softly.
“I need to get out of here.”
Hayden put his hand at her back and guided her off stage.
Chief Greenfield raised his head and asked, “You want me to take the Q&A?”
Hayden paused then shook his head. This was a crucial moment, and Kate knew he couldn’t give up control. He motioned to Hatch. “Get her inside,” Hayden said to his teammate, and then to her, “I’ll be right there.”
Inside the pol
ice station, Kate found more people, more stares. The scar along her scarfless neck burned, and she tugged her hair across her throat.
Hatch led her through the station. When she spotted a women’s bathroom, she rushed toward it. She pushed open the door, but Hatch dashed in before her.
“Hatch!” She pointed to the ladies room sign.
“I’m staying with you.”
She threw a glare at him then yanked open the bathroom stalls. “Look, no butchers. Give me some privacy, please.”
He paused.
Please, her eyes begged, in a way her words couldn’t.
“Okay,” Hatch said on a long breath. “I’ll be right outside.”
When the door closed, Kate’s knees gave way. Her fingers gripped the counter as emotions crashed over her. Mostly fear, because the Butcher finished every job. He would take the bait. He was on his way.
She turned on the tap and thrust her hands under the water, letting the cool stream wash over the heated pulse at her wrists. With cupped hands, she splashed water on her face. Handful after handful, she tried to wash away the stares, the fear, and the ingrained desire to run.
At last she turned off the water and fumbled for the towel dispenser. Cranking out a paper towel, she tore off a piece and blotted her face. She raised her face to the mirror, but instead of her own reflection, she saw another.
“Long time no see, Katrina.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sunday, June 14, 1:25 p.m.
Dorado Bay, Nevada
How the hell did you get in here?”
Robyn Banks, a line of blood dribbling down her shin, pointed to the narrow window on the back wall. “Hungry reporters will do anything for a story, and these days I’m hungry, Katrina, real hungry.”
“My name is Kate.” She wadded the paper towel and threw it in the overflowing trash can next to the sink.
“Reinventing yourself?”
Kate didn’t have time for Robyn Banks and her questions or her jealously. The two had had a notorious rivalry back in her KTTL days, when Kate had uprooted Banks from the nightly news anchor spot. “What do you want?”
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