The Devil You Know

by Morgan James

  “In reference to Ms. Henderson?”

  “I don’t know.” She grimaced apologetically. “He hung up before I could ask.”

  The detective nodded as he pulled a card from his pocket and handed it over to her. “Thanks for calling it in and for answering our questions. I assume you’ll be around if we need anything?” At her nod, he continued. “Let me know if anything else comes to mind.”

  “Thank you.” Victoria accepted the card and stood. “I appreciate your help.”

  Detective Sanchez held the door for her as she walked out of the small interrogation room. Over the past few hours, the sun had risen fully in the sky and its bright light streamed through the glass doors. She walked outside, shielding her eyes, debating what to do. Still shaken from this morning’s call, she debated canceling today’s appointments but quickly nixed the idea. It would give her something to do—to keep her mind off the woman’s murder.

  Shortly after Victoria arrived at Monique’s house, reporters had flocked to the scene in droves, the information apparently leaked by a neighbor or someone working the case. She’d spoken with the patrolmen as well as the coroner but it seemed they’d never had a chance to save Monique.

  The killer must have spent several hours with her, judging from the damage inflicted on her body. The deceased woman had several defensive wounds, as well as the deep laceration that stretched from ear to ear and ultimately ended her life. Just like Leah.

  Victoria shivered at the thought. She’d tried for so long not to think about that night, but it always loomed in the back of her mind. She recalled each detail as if it were yesterday instead of almost ten years ago now. Leah had put up a good fight, but her killer had overpowered her, taken advantage of her before killing her with a vicious slice across the throat. And now he was back.

  Looking left and right, examining her surroundings, Victoria strode quickly through the parking lot and climbed into her car. Even the oppressive heat couldn’t dispel the chill that had seeped into her bones, and she ran her hands briskly over her arms. Starting the car, she headed toward her office building and made her way to the top floor.

  Phyllis met her in the lobby. “Good Lord, girl, what in the name of all things holy happened this morning?” Dogging Victoria’s steps the entire way back to her office, she continued, “I turned on the news this morning and there you were. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  Victoria scrunched up her nose in distaste. “They already ran the story?”

  Phyllis shook her head. “They only showed a little clip this morning. Said they’d have the ‘full story’ at six.”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “Vultures.”

  “So?” The receptionist stood in front of Victoria’s desk, hands propped on her generous hips. “What happened?”

  Sinking into her chair, Victoria leaned back and rubbed her temples. “I got a call this morning from the killer. He said a woman needed help and gave me her address, so I called it in to the police and drove to her house. I’m sure the police would have stopped by to check things out, but I needed to see for myself.”

  “Why in the blue blazes did he call you?”

  Victoria bit her tongue. She’d never told Phyllis of her past and she didn’t intend to now. No use worrying the poor woman until the police were able to find more information. Little spooked Phyllis, though; the woman would probably take it upon herself to be Victoria’s personal protector.

  “I’m not sure. The police are trying to figure that out.”

  Concern settled over the receptionist’s face. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home and relax?”

  Victoria shook her head. “No, I need something to take my mind off it all.”

  Phyllis nodded sagely. “Well, if you change your mind or if you need anything, you just let me know.”

  Victoria shot her an appreciative smile. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Shutting off thoughts of Monique’s murder, she turned her attention to the computer, determined to lose herself in work. Four sessions and several hours later, she walked into her house and dropped her purse and keys on the table near the door. Exhaustion pulled at her, her mind and body tired from having been roused from bed so early. Too tired to cook, Victoria poured herself a bowl of cereal and carried it to the living room.

  Curling up in a corner of the couch, she flipped on the TV. Immediately, her face filled the screen and a female reporter spoke in the background. “... local doctor was called to the scene early this morning. Monique Henderson, a resident of a quaint community just outside of Dallas was the victim of a brutal...”

  Victoria flipped channels until she landed on a home and garden show. She couldn’t believe it had spread so quickly. And why did they have to involve her? It was bad enough that a woman had been brutally murdered, but now everyone would think that Victoria was somehow involved. They hadn’t attended college together, nor were they even passing acquaintances. She’d told the cops the same thing this morning, but the reporters didn’t know that. Hopefully, no one leaked any details of her past. She’d reserved that information until speaking with Detective Sanchez, and he seemed intent on keeping it secret as it wasn’t yet relative to the case. If they found new evidence though, they may have to dig further into Victoria’s background. Not that she knew anything else about the killer, but she’d prefer the reporters didn’t catch wind of it. She didn’t want people knowing of her life back in Ohio.

  She’d spent months after Leah’s death working with the local police, appealing to the community, trying to find the killer. It seemed he’d just vanished into thin air. No one had seen him, no one had recognized him or come forward. But now she knew—he’d always been there watching, waiting for the right time.

  Victoria carried her bowl to the kitchen and rinsed it in the sink before climbing the stairs to her room. After a quick shower, she slid into bed, the events of the day replaying in her mind, and finally fell into a fitful sleep, Leah’s face haunting her dreams.

  Chapter Four

  “Dr. Carr is busy, you can’t just—”

  Dr. Johnathan Martin strode through the door of Victoria’s office and stood at the corner of her desk. “Victoria, thank God you’re all right.”

  Victoria flicked a glance at him over her computer as she entered notes from her previous session. “Hello, Johnathan.”

  From the doorway, Phyllis huffed. “Dr. Carr, your three o’clock is here. I tried to tell Dr. Martin that you were busy, but—”

  Johnathan spoke over her, waving a hand dismissively at Phyllis. “Please excuse us for a moment.”

  Pink bloomed over Phyllis’s dark brown cheeks, and Victoria decided to intervene. Swiveling her chair toward them, she stood. “Give us two minutes and then please send Mr. Pruitt in. Thank you, Phyllis.”

  “You’re interfering with my business,” she chastised Johnathan. “It’s nice of you to stop in, but I do have another session starting”—she checked her watch—“three minutes ago.”

  Johnathan heaved a sigh. “I know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw you on the news last night, you know.”

  “Poor girl.” Victoria barely repressed a shudder. “It was just brutal.”

  His brow furrowed. “How did you get involved?”

  She actively avoided his gaze. “After he killed her, he... called me from her phone.”

  “He called you?” His voice was sharp, and her eyes flicked to his. “Good God, why?”

  “You know how it is, Johnathan. Killers occasionally reach out. They either want to be stopped or they want to be recognized, taunting the authorities for not being able to catch them.” She shrugged. “I told the police everything I know, but it’s up to them to decide how to proceed.”

  His face turned pensive. “Did he say anything specific?”

  She froze, remembering the way he’d called her by name—by her real name. “Nothing of significance,” she lied. “I’m not entirely certain why he would call me sp
ecifically. Monique wasn’t a patient of mine, and I can’t recall ever meeting her.”

  “And what about the killer? Is it possible it’s someone you know?”

  “Of course it’s a possibility, but the likelihood of that is slim. The only person with whom I’ve had an issue recently is Mr. Andrews—the man I referred to you.”

  “I never did hear anything from him. What if it’s him?”

  Victoria thought about the way they’d parted after his last appointment. Greg had been furious, but would he have killed a woman out of spite?

  “I don’t know, Johnathan. I just don’t think it fits. That’s awfully fast to find and kill a victim, unless he either knew Monique or happened, by some miracle, to meet her that very same day or insinuate himself in her house.”

  “But—”

  She waved away his response. “I’m sure the police are looking into all the different leads. Something will turn up eventually.”

  She truly hoped he would get the hint and drop it. The whole situation made her uneasy, and she was sick to death of talking about it. She’d never met Monique and she didn’t appear outwardly to have any enemies. It really made no sense, but then, murder was often emotional and messy, lacking any rational thought.

  His eyes bored into hers and she once again glanced away, pretending to absorb herself in her computer. “You know, the offer to join practices still stands.”

  Air rushed from her lungs on a soft sigh. “We’ve talked about this.”

  He held up a hand. “Just think about it. Have dinner with me.”

  “Johnathan...”

  “Okay, we don’t have to go out. I’ll stop over later and bring some takeout. Italian?” Before she could respond, he was already striding toward the door. “See you at seven.”

  Victoria leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples in a calming circular motion. He meant well, she knew, but sometimes Johnathan could be so... overwhelming. He’d been a good friend during the past two years since they’d met, but the way he looked at her sometimes hinted that he was interested in far more than just friendship or a business partnership.

  Phyllis appeared in the doorway, a grim frown on her face, and Victoria knew she’d have to make up for Johnathan’s rudeness. Short and stocky, Mr. Pruitt followed just behind looking very uncomfortable for his first session. Smoothing out her facial expression, Victoria greeted him with a serene smile.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Pruitt. Please, make yourself at home.” With a grateful look at her receptionist, Victoria settled into a plush armchair.

  Turning her mind away from the murder, away from Johnathan and her disgruntled receptionist, Victoria focused on Mr. Pruitt and spent the next hour delving into his concerns over his sexuality.

  After Mr. Pruitt thanked her and left, Victoria drummed her fingers on the desk, considering Johnathan’s words. Maybe he was right. She’d been on edge the last couple of days since the murder, and a little extra security would go a long way to making her feel safer, at least at work. Her community was gated, so she didn’t worry too much about someone gaining access to her house. Here, though, she felt exposed.

  Picking up the phone, she dialed the building manager’s number.

  “Ramirez.”

  “Hi, Benny, it’s Dr. Carr. How are you?”

  “Just fine, Doctor, how about you?”

  “Great, thanks.” Formalities out of the way, Victoria dove right in. “Benny, you may have heard about my recent involvement in a woman’s murder.”

  “I sure did. Sorry to hear about that. Is there something I can help with?”

  “Actually”—she rubbed her damp palm briskly on the material of her dress slacks—“I was wondering what kind of security this building has.”

  “Well, now.” His voice was tentative and a bit defensive. “We don’t usually have too much trouble here. We just call the police if anything happens. Why do you ask?”

  Victoria sighed. “I’ve had a little trouble with an ex-patient of mine and I was just wondering if there’s any chance we could get some extra security around here for a while. I’d feel safer if someone was here in case anything happened. I don’t want to jeopardize my staff or my patients. Just until things blow over,” she added.

  “I suppose I can ask, Doctor. Don’t know what the owner will say, though. Security can get awful expensive.”

  Her hackles rose at his dismissive tone. She wasn’t above playing hardball. “Well, Mr. Ramirez, many medical facilities have full-time security guards. I’m sure the owner wouldn’t want anything to happen in his building. I’m certain he values the safety of the people here and will justify the cost. It would be just awful if something were to happen to affect business, and I imagine he’d rather be proactive since the safety of his building and the people here is paramount...” She trailed off, allowing him to draw any conclusion he liked. She really had no other avenues to pursue if he turned her down, but Benny didn’t need to know that. In truth, nothing bad had ever really happened here that she knew of, and she was asking quite a lot for the owner to provide additional security for what may possibly have been a fluke.

  “Of course.” The building manager’s voice was stiff. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, Benny. I really appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure, miss. I’ll be in touch.”

  Victoria hung up with a grim smile. She wasn’t completely confident that Benny had taken her seriously or that the owner would even consider her request without laughing at her, but at least she’d tried.

  BLAKE TAPPED THE SCREEN of the tablet, pausing the video taken Tuesday morning just before dawn. “What do we know so far?”

  “Jack shit.” Con shook his head. “Dr. Carr claims to have never met the victim. According to the police reports, there was no sign of forced entry.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “No one serious that any of her friends or colleagues are aware of. The police don’t have any leads yet, or, if they do, they’re not sharing that information.”

  Blake’s lips tipped down in a frown. It was a gruesome murder, but they’d always look first at people closest to the victim. How the hell was Dr. Carr tied into this? “Why the hell call her?”

  His friend shrugged. “She’s a psychologist. Maybe a former patient or a boyfriend trying to get her attention?”

  Blake turned his gaze back to the beautiful woman on the screen. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she looked exhausted, fearful. “So, what are they requesting?”

  “Basic security at the healthplex on the south side. Her practice is on the fifth floor.” Con lifted a shoulder. “You’ll make rounds through the building, put any precautions into place that you feel necessary. You’re just hired muscle to make sure she’s safe.”

  Blake lifted a brow. “Isn’t that a little much after only one incident?”

  “Better to take the preventative measure than risk something happening to her.”

  “I just can’t believe the landlord’s going to foot the bill for that without any evidence. At this point, isn’t it all conjecture anyway?”

  Con settled back in his chair. “I’ve known the owner for several years. Ben Kingsley dabbles in real estate and owns several businesses around town. He’s a good guy. He saw the news and decided to grant her request on a temporary basis.”

  “How long?”

  “Four weeks. He’s given the go-ahead to install additional cameras around the property, so I’ve put in an order.”

  Blake nodded. Maybe the phone call was a fluke, but maybe it was more. Probably wasn’t a bad idea to make sure some stalker wasn’t after her. She’d at least be safe at work and, if nothing else, it would give the office the added benefit of tighter security for their patients.

  Con studied him. “I’m supposed to head to D.C. soon. I can either take this once I get back or you can head this one up. How soon you looking to start?”

  Blake turned his gaze back to the screen.
Under her grim composure, the woman looked... scared. Something about her expression called to him. “I’ll handle it.”

  Chapter Five

  Victoria entered the lobby of the healthplex and stopped dead in her tracks, arrested by the sight that greeted her. Benny caught her eye and waved her over, and she found her feet carrying her closer against her will. Next to the building manager stood a golden-haired man, tall and broad-shouldered. Despite the constrictive suit he wore, the man’s build spoke of power and raw masculinity, his muscular arms and legs straining against the material.

  Her gaze slid up to his angular face. His hair was military short, with just enough on top to run her fingers through the silky strands. Hazel eyes sat over high cheekbones, and a neatly trimmed beard covered the lower half of his jaw. She typically opted for her men to be clean-shaven, but the facial hair on this man seemed appropriate, as if it enhanced his features rather than detracting from them. He was too rugged to be considered traditionally handsome, but the man was gorgeous in a rough sort of way. He looked as if he could bench press her with one arm, and her blood ran hot at the thought of his hands on her.

  She had little experience with men of his caliber, but she knew instinctively that he would know exactly how to treat a woman. He exuded confidence, an arrogance she imagined most men of his stature exhibited, and she wondered what it would feel like to have that rapt attention focused on her. The thought simultaneously thrilled her and irked her, because a man like him would sure have a girlfriend who was just as beautiful. A twinge of jealousy curdled in her gut and she clenched her teeth, pushing the useless emotion away and replacing it instead with cool aloofness.

  As she approached the duo, the man flashed her a smile, his teeth perfectly straight and white against his deeply tanned cheeks. The action made her self-conscious of her own slightly crooked incisors, and she pressed her lips into a tight line. Irritation flared again at the sight of the insolent grin twisting his lips. It was a smile designed to draw women in and make them lose all sense as they flung themselves at him. Oh, yes. This man was used to getting whatever—and whoever—he wanted.