“You scared the hell out of me,” Dean managed to say, sending a look of appreciation Bob’s way. The man simply nodded before turning back to retreat to his own home. “We got word that the unsub was going to take another victim tonight. One who matches your description. You weren’t answering your phone, and all I could think of was…”
Dean pulled away from her so that he could see her beautiful face and wipe away the horrible image that came to mind once again.
“What happened, Kenna?”
“Rocky got out of his backyard,” she explained as she lowered her arms and held her gloved hands underneath her chin. She peered around him to where Chaz and the deputy were loading Brighton into the back of a patrol car. “I was hurrying to put on my jacket and must have left my cell phone inside. Dean, I was just walking Rocky back to Bob’s house. There was no need to close the garage door. To tell you the truth, I just wasn’t thinking about anything but getting him home.”
Dean could see her reasoning, but she wasn’t the one who’d been in a conference room every single day for the last month and a half with graphic crime scene photos and trying to stop a sadistic serial killer from murdering more women. Every single precaution mattered in situations like these.
“I came back to find that I hadn’t turned on the light in the garage, and the one attached to the door opener had shut off. I realized that a car had parked on the street, but I hadn’t seen anyone get out or walk up any of the driveways.” Kenna met Dean’s gaze as she relayed the rest of her story. “I would never have risked my life by going inside after recognizing the potential danger. I walked back to Bob’s place so I could bring him back with me, but…”
“But what?” Dean asked cautiously, not liking that she’d let her words trail off as if something else had occurred this evening. “Kenna, did something else happen?”
“Let’s just say I freaked myself out to the point that I thought maybe Bob was some kind of psycho killer,” Kenna replied with an awkward laugh, shaking her head in mortification. “Bob is a good guy who misses his wife, that’s all. My mind started going wild when I discovered he’s a widower. I just can’t believe that Bright thought it was okay to go into my house. I mean, there’s no way that…oh, my God! Spartacus!”
Dean didn’t have a chance to stop Kenna from running toward the garage. She was hellbent on reaching Spartacus, and she didn’t let the fact that the light above had clicked off stop her from barreling past her Jeep Cherokee to the inside access door. She had no idea the hell he’d gone through believing that he would find her dead on the floor.
“Brighton is being taken to the station to clarify the situation, but I’m almost certain he’s not our guy, even though he trespassed on her property,” Chaz disclosed as he walked up the driveway. Another patrol car was parking against the curb as the deputy moved from car to car, turning off the sirens. By this time, most of the neighbors were either standing in their doorway or looking through their living room windows to see what all the commotion was on their street—which just happened to be four marked cars and a whole mess of armed police officers, joined by what looked like plain-clothed officers, too. They would all have to wait to speak with Kenna tomorrow. “Brighton is claiming that he was simply stopping by her home to drop off some receipts for the renovations on the pub. He got concerned when he saw her garage door open and went in to investigate. He had no knife or other weapons in his possession. I also did a quick search of his vehicle and found nothing that could tie him to the murders. He didn’t have a rose, either.”
Dean had already come to that conclusion himself, even though every single instinct in his body was screaming that Brighton wasn’t as innocent as he led people to believe. Dropping receipts off at night when the pub was in full swing? Not likely, but that didn’t make him a killer. Dean should be at the station to take down Brighton’s statement to ensure that no mistakes were made and nothing else had been overlooked.
Chaz’s phone rang at the same time that Kenna reappeared with Spartacus in her arms. The big tomcat was rubbing his head on her chin, almost as if to reassure himself that he hadn’t lost another potential owner. Dean’s gut tightened when he realized what the call meant for one Brenda Reinhardt. She wouldn’t be around to make wreaths for her loyal clients. She had been the killer’s next target all along.
“We’re needed at the crime scene.” Chaz nodded solemnly toward Kenna and slapped Dean on the back. The snowflakes had gotten bigger and were falling at a faster rate, melting onto Dean’s dress shirt as he stood there staring at Kenna. “I have an extra jacket in the trunk of my car. I’ll go grab it and then we can head out.”
Chaz was purposefully giving Dean a moment alone with Kenna. From the way she parted her lips in surprise, she’d gathered the news wasn’t good. Another victim had been taken, and the unsub’s letter would be out in the public’s hands for all to read tomorrow.
“Kenna, I—”
“I’ll call Jenn,” she said softly, as if understanding that he wouldn’t be able to focus all of his energy on the investigation if he thought for one second her life could be snuffed out like the flame of a small match. “Craig isn’t working at the hospital tonight. He can stay with Brie while Jenn stays with me until you get home.”
Dean walked up to her, wanting nothing more than to be the one to stay by her side. He leaned down until his forehead rested against hers. How to put into words the utter helplessness he’d experienced believing that she’d been the next victim? He couldn’t. Instead, he gently pressed his lips to hers longer than usual. He needed something to take with him. Spartacus meowed at Dean’s presence, either in agreement or offense that he was stealing Kenna’s attention.
“You need to get used to sharing her, Spartacus,” Dean murmured, making sure that Kenna had met his gaze. Her green eyes softened in understanding, acceptance, and something more. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I’m pretty sure that Spartacus is mad at me.”
Kenna smiled against Dean’s forearm, which just happened to be cradling her cheek as they stared into the flickering flames of the fire. They were lying on the couch with just the afghan thrown over their waists after having spent the last hour making love in front of the Christmas tree wrapped in soft twinkling lights.
“You’re wrong,” Kenna replied softly, lacing her fingers with his. She stretched out as much as she could, given their position on the cushions. The heat from his body was much more enticing than that of the fire. “Spartacus knows who saved him. He just misunderstood our physical activity for something else.”
They fell quiet, both enjoying the intimate ambiance of a rare evening to themselves. Dean had been working practically day and night on The Widow Taker case, the hunt for the elusive killer elevated in the last few days after news of Brenda Reinhardt’s murder had made the rounds. Neighborhood watches and communities as a whole had banded together to form small alliances to patrol the areas around the homes of local widows, regardless of how old they were. According to Quinn Simmons’ latest interview on her podcast, a local widows’ support group had even assembled in unity to keep additional attention on their surroundings and report anything suspicious to the police.
“I can actually feel the wheels turning in that head of yours,” Dean murmured, sighing with contentment as she snuggled against him. “We agreed no shop talk tonight.”
Kenna recalled her father saying the exact same thing when she was younger, yet the tough cases had always hung thick in the air during their family dinners. She always thought he would have been better off sharing his concerns with her mother. There were things about the investigation that couldn’t be shared, but that didn’t mean that getting things off his chest couldn’t be beneficial, too.
Dean sighed once again, but this time it was in resignation. He shifted so that he was lying flat on the couch so that she could turn over onto her side and face him. She’d been thinking about the pr
ofile that his colleague, Linc, had created, and it made sense in a very odd way.
“The killer—”
“Unsub,” Dean subconsciously corrected, peering at her from his right eye. He began playing with her hair while she talked, most likely hoping to lull her into sleep as it usually did. “UNknown SUBject.”
“Fine. If the unsub is seeking out women who he feels haven’t moved on from their grief, how is he determining which ones those are?” Kenna asked, resting her chin on the back of her hand. “You’ve ruled out social media, the victims didn’t really have a connection to one another, and—”
“We didn’t rule out social media completely,” Dean corrected her, moving the throw pillow so that it was more comfortable behind his neck. “We just can’t make the correlation between them quite yet. For all we know, the unsub is meeting them in person somewhere. Let’s face it. Winter Heights isn’t that big of a town. Every shop, restaurant, and bar are located on the main thoroughfare through town. There’s no telling where the unsub might have run into the widows. That is why we’ve been looking into the victim’s daily lives so deeply.”
Kenna began to make circles on his chest, the way she did on paper when she was looking for different ways to help her clients. Bright came to mind. He’d been mortified to be taken into the station and treated like a suspect. He didn’t seem to hold a grudge, but his presence at her house that night had definitely taken him off the suspect list. He couldn’t have been in both places at the same time. Dean still had his guard up when it came to her newest client, but he couldn’t argue with physics.
“How did you get through it?” Dean asked softly, both eyes now trained on her as he made no pretense that he was tired anymore. She didn’t have to ask what he was referring to, but she was taken aback that he would want to talk about Justin. She was actually grateful that he was so comfortable with her past. “I mean, my mother had me and my brother. We kept her so busy that I’m not sure she ever had time to even think about her loss back then. When I saw the description that the unsub had given…”
“I’m safe, here with you,” Kenna whispered, poking her finger into his chest in reassurance. His heartbeat was beating faster than usual. “I’ll be honest, it was the worst moment of my life. Soul-crushing is the only way to describe it. One phone call and everything changed. It took months for the realization to sink in that I would never see him or hear his voice again, but he wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living.”
Dean remained quiet, almost as if he were weighing her words.
“There’s no right or wrong way to grieve,” Kenna said, hoping that he wasn’t comparing her to the other widows he’d met during the case. She also didn’t want him comparing her to his mother. “I’ve known some widows to marry within a couple of years, and I’ve known others to never remarry. The most important thing is to find out who they are by themselves. It took me close to two years to do that, which is why having you in my life right now only magnifies the happiness I’ve discovered within myself.”
“Justin was very lucky to have you in his life.” Dean appeared to struggle with the words he wanted to say, but what he came up with was perfect. “Just as I’m sure you were fortunate to have him for the short time you had together. I’m glad the two of you had those years with one another, but I’m also very grateful that you chose to share whatever remains of our future together with me.”
“You mentioned at Thanksgiving that it would have been something like our twenty-fifth date, and now we’re probably closer to fifty given the amount of time we’ve been spending together. If you count the fact that you gave me a cat who believes he’s some kind of mountain lion, then I’m pretty sure next week is our one-year anniversary.”
Dean’s laugh rumbled through his chest, causing her to smile once more. This was the man who not everyone got to see, but she saw him—his vulnerabilities, his determination, and his need to make a difference. He was cautious to a fault, yet he gave all of himself when he decided something or someone was worth it.
“You were definitely an extra special surprise, Kenna Burke,” Dean murmured, pulling steadily on her arm until she was lying directly on top of him. His blue eyes narrowed in fortitude, and she didn’t doubt for a second that he would be the one to stop the carnage that had widows nervously looking over their shoulder every minute of the day in this town. “I’ll make sure that our one-year anniversary is unforgettable, just as I’ll ensure you sleep safely every night for the rest of your life.”
“You’ll catch The Widow Taker, Dean. I know you will.”
~ The End ~
The gripping and suspenseful search for The Widow Taker continues in this mesmerizing thriller by USA Today Bestselling Author Kennedy Layne…
Click HERE
Lincoln Roche has spent most of his career profiling serial killers, and there is one thing he is absolutely certain of—the man arrested for the most recent killing spree in Connecticut doesn’t fit the profile. Evidence soon comes to light to vindicate Linc’s theories, but that only means the tally of victims will begin to rise once again.
Quinn Simmons fully believes it is her solemn duty to warn the widows of Winter Heights that a killer is targeting them for the sheer enjoyment of killing the innocent. She never intended to be The Widow Taker’s spokeswoman, but the package she receives clearly states the rules of the game—she must broadcast his messages or else he will claim yet another victim.
Linc has no choice but to work with the reporter responsible for giving this sociopath his desired recognition. His aversion quickly turns to emotions somewhat more intriguing when Quinn becomes the one woman he can’t quite fit into the usual categories. What is she hiding and why has she become The Widow Taker’s next target? They must now race against the clock to capture a serial killer who sees himself as Quinn’s savior.
Books by Kennedy Layne
The Widow Taker Trilogy
The Forgotten Widow
The Isolated Widow
The Reclusive Widow
Hex on Me Mysteries
If the Curse Fits
Cursing up the Wrong Tree
The Squeaky Ghost Gets the Curse
The Curse that Bites
Curse Me Under the Mistletoe
Paramour Bay Mysteries
Magical Blend
Bewitching Blend
Enchanting Blend
Haunting Blend
Charming Blend
Spellbinding Blend
Cryptic Blend
Broomstick Blend
Spirited Blend
Yuletide Blend
Baffling Blend
Office Roulette Series
Means (Office Roulette, Book One)
Motive (Office Roulette, Book Two)
Opportunity (Office Roulette, Book Three)
Keys to Love Series
Unlocking Fear (Keys to Love, Book One)
Unlocking Secrets (Keys to Love, Book Two)
Unlocking Lies (Keys to Love, Book Three)
Unlocking Shadows (Keys to Love, Book Four)
Unlocking Darkness (Keys to Love, Book Five)
Surviving Ashes Series
Essential Beginnings (Surviving Ashes, Book One)
Hidden Ashes (Surviving Ashes, Book Two)
Buried Flames (Surviving Ashes, Book Three)
Endless Flames (Surviving Ashes, Book Four)
Rising Flames (Surviving Ashes, Book Five)
CSA Case Files Series
Captured Innocence (CSA Case Files 1)
Sinful Resurrection (CSA Case Files 2)
Renewed Faith (CSA Case Files 3)
Campaign of Desire (CSA Case Files 4)
Internal Temptation (CSA Case Files 5)
Radiant Surrender (CSA Case Files 6)
Redeem My Heart (CSA Case Files 7)
A Mission of Love (CSA Case Files 8)
Red Starr Series
Starr’s Awakening(Red Starr, Book One)
Hearths of Fi
re (Red Starr, Book Two)
Targets Entangled (Red Starr, Book Three)
Igniting Passion (Red Starr, Book Four)
Untold Devotion (Red Starr, Book Five)
Fulfilling Promises (Red Starr, Book Six)
Fated Identity (Red Starr, Book Seven)
Red’s Salvation (Red Starr, Book Eight)
The Safeguard Series
Brutal Obsession (The Safeguard Series, Book One)
Faithful Addiction (The Safeguard Series, Book Two)
Distant Illusions (The Safeguard Series, Book Three)
Casual Impressions (The Safeguard Series, Book Four)
Honest Intentions (The Safeguard Series, Book Five)
Deadly Premonitions (The Safeguard Series, Book Six)
About the Author
First and foremost, I love life. I love that I’m a wife, mother, daughter, sister… and a writer.
I am one of the lucky women in this world who gets to do what makes them happy. As long as I have a cup of coffee (maybe two or three) and my laptop, the stories evolve themselves and I try to do them justice. I draw my inspiration from a retired Marine Master Sergeant that swept me off of my feet and has drawn me into a world that fulfills all of my deepest and darkest desires. Erotic romance, military men, intrigue, with a little bit of kinky chili pepper (his recipe), fill my head and there is nothing more satisfying than making the hero and heroine fulfill their destinies.
Thank you for having joined me on their journeys…
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