by April Hunt
For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then something clicked and Cade’s face turned even redder. “Wait a damn minute. Why the hell would you wait to call this in?”
All eyes focused on her.
Shrugging off Cade’s skepticism came easy. She’d had years of fine-tuning the skill. But the Steele brothers, standing side by side, made her uneasily shift her feet. Liam looked slightly confused, and Ryder, curious. But Roman?
Roman’s calculating gaze took in her appearance…and her clothes, before snapping up to her in a hard stare.
Nerves sucked the moisture from her throat. She cleared it, wincing at the sudden dryness. “It was my landlady who made the call. I wasn’t home.”
“Where were you? With Gr—” Cade went quiet for the first time since he arrived. His eyes narrowed on what Roman had already noticed. “Who the hell’s clothes are you wearing?”
Zoey’s Knox-dar kicked into full blast, bypassing warm tingle and zipping straight to heat-of-the-sun inferno.
She ignored the question, and prayed her voice sounded as firm as her resolve to erase the last eight hours. “I wasn’t here when someone forced their way inside my apartment. That’s a good thing.”
“There isn’t any sign of a forced entry,” Knox added.
Zoey waved her hand toward what used to be her belongings. “All my ruined things say otherwise.”
“Every window was locked from the inside; the sliding glass door too. And there aren’t any jimmy marks on the front door, which means whoever forced their way inside didn’t have to work too hard.”
Cade’s head whipped toward Zoey. “Why didn’t you send out housewarming invites that say the door’s unlocked, come on in?”
Zoey ground her teeth. “I did not leave the door unlocked.”
“Yeah? Then explain to me how this happened.”
“I don’t know how this happened, but I always lock my door. I even lock up when I go around the corner to get my mail!”
Five stern faces stared at her, unconvinced. But it was the truth. The sticky top dead bolt didn’t catch at the first twist, and so she always turned it twice, and then checked the doorknob for good measure. Before heading to O’Malley’s, she recalled with perfect clarity having done the same thing.
Her apartment had been sealed tight.
Cade, unsmiling and thoughtful, finally broke out with the expected suggestion. “You’re staying with me for a few days. I’m not comfortable with you being here by yourself. Now that someone’s been inside, it’s obvious that you’re a single woman living alone. There’s nothing preventing them from coming back.”
“Not happening.” Zoey lifted her chin in a show of defiance. “A few days here. A week another time. If I were a random citizen, would you be telling me to pack what’s left of my stuff and move?”
This was about a lot more than sleeping on her brother’s couch. Conceding now made it easier to give in later when something a lot more important was on the line.
Cade gritted his teeth. “You’re not a random citizen. You’re my baby sister.”
“Your adult sister who has no intentions of taking up room on her brother’s couch.” Zoey squeezed his hand affectionately. “I’ll change my locks if it makes you feel better, and I’ll even check into getting a security system. But I am not relocating my entire life because of a random case of bad luck.”
Cade waited nearly a half minute before nodding reluctantly. “Fine. But I’m not letting any guy with a white van and a toolbox put locks on your doors.”
“I’ll do it,” Liam interjected. “I don’t have anywhere to be for a few hours.”
Zoey shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that for me.”
Ryder snorted. “Tech stuff is how he relaxes. You’ll be lucky if there’s not some kind of DNA scanner on your front door to go along with new locks. No saliva, no entry.”
Liam looked appalled. “Saliva? What do you take me for? A barbarian? This isn’t the twentieth century.”
Zoey ushered them out of her bedroom. “I don’t care if it takes saliva, my eyeball, or analyzes my breath. I just need you all to go so I can get ready for work.”
Knox tossed her a surprised look. “Your place was burglarized and you’re headed to the station?”
“Vandalized,” she corrected. “You were right. It doesn’t look as if anything was taken. I have a task force meeting this morning, and side note, Cade, so do you.”
Knox didn’t look thrilled. None of them did, but she corralled them into the living room and closed the bedroom door behind them. Slinking to the ground, she blew a stray lock of hair from her eye.
With her booted foot, she nudged away what used to be her favorite cardigan. What clothes hadn’t been shredded had been handled by someone. No way could she bring herself to put anything on, not without multiple washings and a few gallons of heavy-duty bleach.
Zoey grabbed a pair of hard-soled slippers that had somehow thwarted the mutilation process, and returned to a Wright and Steele-free living room. The same couldn’t be said for the parking lot. Although three of the Steeles were nowhere in sight, Knox and Cade stood near her car, talking in hushed tones.
Zoey turned in the opposite direction and spotted Nat and Deacon about to climb into their squad car.
“Nat!” Waving, she hustled across the lot. “Are you guys going back to the station?”
“We are. You want a lift?”
“Definitely. The sooner, the better.” Zoey climbed into the back seat and glanced over her shoulder.
“Why do I feel like we could be charged with aiding and abetting?” Nat followed her line of sight and whistled. “Whoa. I haven’t seen a man stare that hard at a woman in…well, ever. Are you sure you don’t want to stay behind and talk to him? Because he sure as hell looks like he wants to speak with you.”
Zoey ripped her gaze away from Knox’s twenty-yard penetrating stare and buckled her seat belt. “I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life.”
Chapter
Ten
In fifteen minutes, Zoey would officially be considered late to the Cupid Killer Task Force meeting. She needed to finish typing one last report, make copies, and hopefully change into something that didn’t scream I didn’t sleep in my own bed last night.
A second after she hit the save button, a shopping bag plopped onto her desk.
“You realize that you owe me a highly detailed explanation about this mayday call, right? It’s not every day—or any day—that you entrust me with what to put on your body. It has my imagination running wild.” Grace’s brown eyes lit up with all the possibilities, and judging by her grin, none of them were G-rated.
Not that Knox’s clothes didn’t smell divine—and like him—but the last thing Zoey needed was someone like Marie from dispatch announcing she sported a walk-of-shame ensemble. If she was to become office gossip, she wanted to have earned the title.
Zoey peeked into the bag and dropped a loud kiss on Grace’s cheek. “You brought me real clothes.”
“What did you think I’d bring you? A ball gown? The black capris are probably going to be pants on you, but the blouse is pretty versatile and the tennis shoes are on the bottom.”
“I don’t know how to repay you.” Zoey clutched the bag to her chest and hightailed it to the locker room, Grace close on her heels.
A few officers were in varying states of mid-dress when they arrived. Grace waited until the last one left and started her interrogation. “You want to repay me?”
Grace’s tone triggered all Zoey’s warning bells. “I do. But I reserve the right to decide if your price is too rich for my blood.”
Grace chuckled, leaning against the far locker. “Spill. And please don’t insult my intelligence by telling me there’s nothing. I don’t need my federally trained eye to realize that you’re not wearing your clothes.”
Zoey grimaced, slipping out of the oversized T-shirt and into a silky white blouse. “People noticed?”
> “Some people can do a walk of shame without anyone batting an eye, but unfortunately, hon, you’re not among them.”
Zoey stepped into the pants and slid them up her legs.
She didn’t want people passing their shifts trying to fill in the blanks, because what they imagined would no doubt be worse than the real thing—not that she wanted them knowing the truth either.
Grace, contemplative as she folded the discarded T-shirt, dropped her attention to the screen-printed Army insignia on its shoulder. “Holy shit! I am so freaking proud of you! I don’t even care that there’s an ick factor because it’s my cousin. Hold on, I need to sit for a second before I keel over from shock. Seriously? Knox?”
“Will you be quiet?” Zoey scanned the room to make sure they were still alone.
“I have to admit that I foresaw something like this happening, but I figured that Liam’s a little closer to your temperament, so I—”
“You need to stop. Right there…because ew. No.”
Zoey wasn’t embarrassed that she’d taken a chance in kissing Knox. Because she had, she knew the wicked rush that came with putting your wants and desires out there on the front line. She couldn’t be sorry about that. Ever.
But everything that came afterward?
Yeah. She could forever sweep that under the rug and never speak of it again.
But this was Grace. Her honorary sister. Despite their two-year age difference, she’d been privy to a lot of her embarrassing moments growing up, but this was an all-new low that she didn’t want to admit to herself, much less someone else.
“Nothing happened,” Zoey told a half-truth, “except that I’ve fulfilled my lifetime embarrassment quota.”
Grace snorted her disbelief. “Says the woman who needed a wardrobe change this morning.”
Zoey tied off her shoes and finally looked her best friend in the eye. “Okay, fine. There was a kiss—which I instigated. And then I promptly got a speech. Men like me don’t mess around with women like you. Those were the words he used. So you can save your pride for someone else.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed into murderous slits. “The bastard!”
“Don’t make a big deal out of this.” Zoey squeezed her friend’s hand. “I want to forget all of it. The pub. My river dance. My apartment. I want to wipe away every single second.”
“There was a whole lot of forgetting there, but what happened at your apartment?”
Zoey divulged the sordid details to her best friend, and as Grace’s horror grew, so did Zoey’s. Up until that moment, she’d done a halfway decent job not picturing a stranger rifling through her belongings.
“I would’ve felt better if they’d taken my electronics and been on their way.”
“Cade didn’t pack your bag and offer to pay the fee to break your rental contract?” Grace looked warily impressed. “Huh. Maybe he’s mellowing.”
Zoey snorted. “Yeah, no. He tried to do just that, and I’m pretty sure my apartment’s going to have the same security features as Fort Knox—and I’m not talking about your cousin.”
“Then he’s definitely mellowing.” Grace studied her carefully. “But are you sure you want to turn him down?”
Yes. No. At this point, she barely knew her name. “What would you do if the situation were reversed?”
“Not be as calm as you are, that’s for damn sure.”
When she’d first stepped into the precinct this morning, she’d been anything but calm. She’d hustled to the bathroom and locked the door seconds before having an old-fashioned freak-out, complete with red-rimmed eyes and flowing snot. But if she didn’t hike up her Hear-Me-Roar panties, everyone in her life would go into Fix-It mode.
Her brother.
Knox.
His brothers.
To a certain extent, even Grace, though she wasn’t as overbearing as the rest of her family. “I get it. And you’re right. I’d probably stick to my guns too…but I sure as hell wouldn’t go back until I’ve bleached every square inch of that place.”
“That’s already on my agenda. Trust me.”
“Good. My room at the Basin isn’t the Ritz, but come over for a girl’s night, week, whatever you want. We can talk about boys and go shopping. And by boys, I mean you can tell me in explicit detail what happened with Knox.”
“I’ll accept the room offer but pass on the explicit details.” She spun around for Grace’s approval. “No longer walk-of-shame fodder?”
Grace gave a nod. “No longer fodder.”
Thank God. Getting through the day without reliving the humiliation would be hard enough.
Five minutes later, they squeaked into the task force meeting room just as Captain Trevor demanded everyone’s attention.
Chairs screeched as everyone took their seats. Zoey handed out forensic update packets, and as she reached the Assistant District Attorney sitting next to the captain, the last report was unceremoniously ripped from her hands.
“Better late than never.” The lithe brunette pivoted in her seat, further dismissing Zoey’s presence.
Zoey bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a snarky retort. Rudeness was Francine Smoke’s brand. Her nickname, the Fire-Breathing Dragon, was both a play on her last name and her attitude, and went back to when she’d dated Knox.
Once the handouts were passed around, Zoey took the only open seat, directly across the table from her brother.
“Now that everyone’s here, let’s get to business.” Captain Trevor glanced around the room, his broad stature demanding everyone’s attention. “As you can probably guess from the presence of the DA’s office, the city’s as eager as we are to get the Cupid Killer off the streets. Who’s got the rundown on our latest victim?”
Risa Titan, from missing persons, approached the murder board and clipped a picture next to the other eleven. “Confirmed ID is Amanda Middleton. Twenty-five. Doctoral student at Georgetown. When not up to her ears in schoolwork, she worked at the Watering Hole, the college’s informal location for student debauchery. Her roommate reported her missing three days ago but admitted to not seeing her for at least a week and a half.”
“Nice roomie,” someone down the table muttered.
Risa shrugged. “With both of them in doctorate programs it wasn’t uncommon for them to go days without seeing each other. The roommate didn’t think anything of her absence until she no-showed for a big exam.”
“And there’s no link to any of the other victims?” Cade bounced his gaze between the board and the thick file in front of him.
“Other than her looks and lifestyle fitting the young, single professional profile? No. There’s no blaring—or even a fuzzy—connection between her and the others.”
“There’s got to be something we’re missing.”
“If there is, feel free to find it, because I’ve been combing over the victims’ histories and I can’t.”
“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”
“The roomie claims she wasn’t a woman-on-the-prowl type, but we have investigators checking out the local hotspots anyway. So far, nothing.”
“Maybe she was a woman-surviving-in-the-city type,” Zoey murmured.
Heads turned toward her, including Cade’s.
Zoey’s cheeks pinked. She hadn’t meant to be heard. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“What did you mean?” Francine’s cool voice held barely veiled hostility. “If you’re going to interrupt, the least you could do is explain yourself.”
A flash of irritation had her locking gazes with the other woman. “We have twelve victims now and according to their family and friends, none of them embraced the city nightlife. They’re professionals, or hope-to-be professionals. All single. All busy. Maybe we shouldn’t be looking at bars and clubs.”
“What places do you suggest? The Laundromat?” Francine let out a humored snort.
Zoey didn’t back down. “That’s exactly the places we should be looking at. Along with doctors’ offices and gyms. Even spa
s or salons. Like Amanda’s roommate said, she was too busy for a romantic relationship. But friendship? Everyone could use a friend.”
“She could be onto something.” Grace aimed a wink Zoey’s way. “I mean, yes, the killer’s intentions are linked to romantic circumstances—for example, the dresses and the meticulous primping. But none of the victims have been sexually assaulted. It’s as if he’s…taken care of them.”
Francine rolled her eyes. “Taken care of them? By shackling them up until he injects them with lethal doses of Fentanyl and unceremoniously dumps them in the middle of an alley?”
Grace drilled the other woman with a glare. “There’s nothing unceremonious about him at all. He’s all about ceremony. About order. No doubt it’s the way he was raised. It could be that his parents were in a field that required an obscene amount of structure—like the military or the medical field. Hell, lawyers. I could easily name at least a dozen occupations right now.”
“Fine. He’s probably got a stressful job, but to suggest that he takes care of them is utterly ridiculous. He cleans them to wash away any possible DNA.”
“And how do you explain the fact that he provides first aid? He stages their resting place to the point that if they’d been lying on a bed, they’d look like they were sleeping.”
“So he’s the Florence Nightingale of serial killers. Comforting.”
Cade slid a quick glance to Zoey. “Zoey’s idea has a lot of merit, and we sure as hell haven’t gotten any leads on our current course. I’ll look into it.”
“Then do it.” The captain nodded, then gestured toward Mason. “And what does forensics tell us, Lieutenant?”
“Nothing different.” Mason frowned, obviously frustrated. “Reports from the lab confirm that he’s using the same surgical cleansing agent that he’s been using since day one, and it’s used at dentist offices, hospitals. It’s even sold in drugstores and people are instructed to bathe in it prior to having surgery because it destroys normal bacteria on the body, and unfortunately, evidence. Anyone can get their hands on it.”
After ensuring everyone was on the same path, Captain Trevor dismissed the meeting and everyone went their own ways. Zoey locked gazes with Grace and the two stepped out of the room and off to the side.