Pivot

by Kat Martin

  Jax released a short laugh. “She’s been in heaven running around the city to find the perfect flower arrangements and sewing the bridesmaids’ dresses,” he agreed. “The poor woman assumed with four sons she would never get the opportunity to be so involved in all the froufrou nonsense that comes with a wedding.” Jax set the cruise control and settled back in his seat. “Still, you must have been gone too long if you’ve forgotten Mom’s ability to concentrate on more than one thing at a time. I remember her baking cupcakes for Ty’s Boy Scout club while helping Nate with his math homework and at the same time making sure I raked every damned leaf in the backyard because I missed curfew.”

  Ash’s lips curved into a rueful smile. His mother was a ruthless force of nature who’d occasionally resorted to fear and intimidation to control her four unruly sons. Mostly she’d smothered them in such love that none of them could bear the thought of disappointing her.

  “True. She has a gift.” He felt a tiny pang in the center of his heart. It’d been too long since he’d been home. “I could use her in my classroom.”

  “Lord, don’t say that. She’ll be waiting next to your desk with a ruler in her hand,” Jax teased.

  Another silence filled the car, then Jax cleared his throat, and abruptly asked the question that had no doubt been on his lips for the past five years.

  “I never knew what happened between you and Remi.” Jax kept his gaze focused on the road, as if knowing that Ash wouldn’t want him to witness the pain that twisted his features. “One day you were planning your wedding and the next the engagement was over and you were moving away.”

  Ash’s breath hissed between his clenched teeth. “The Chicago Butcher happened.”

  He expected his brother to drop the issue. His breakup with Remi was something he refused to discuss. His family had always respected his barriers.

  But whether he was still trying to keep Ash distracted, or if it was the shock of seeing a woman he believed to be Remi at the morgue, Jax refused to let it go. “You both suffered when she was captured by the Butcher and her father was killed trying to save her,” he pointed out. “I thought it would draw the two of you closer together.”

  Ash turned his head to gaze at the frozen fields that lined the road. The memories of that horrifying night were firmly locked in the back of his mind. The frantic phone call from Remi telling her father that she was being followed. Gage Walsh’s stark command that Ash drive Remi’s route in case the killer forced her car off the road on the way home, while he went to his elegant mansion on the North Shore. And then his arrival at the mansion to discover that he was too late. Gage’s blood had been found at his home, but his body had never been discovered. No one knew why the Butcher would have taken it, unless he feared that he’d left evidence on the corpse that he didn’t have time to remove. The killing, after all, wouldn’t have been planned like the females he stalked and murdered. Thank God, Remi had been alive, although she’d been lying unconscious in the kitchen.

  But while he wasn’t about to go into the agonizing details, Jax deserved an answer. The older man had been an unwavering source of strength over the past few years. Whether it was to shut down his father’s angry protests when Ash announced that he was leaving the police department, or driving down to the university and getting him cross-eyed drunk when he was feeling isolated and alone.

  “After I brought Remi home from the hospital she started to shut me out,” he said in slow, painful tones. “At first I assumed she would get her memories back, and that she would be able to heal from the trauma she’d gone through.”

  “But the memories never came back,” Jax murmured.

  “No, they never came back.” Ash grimaced. He’d wasted a lot of emotional energy trying to convince Remi to get professional help to retrieve her memories. As if the return of them could somehow heal the growing breach between them. It was only with time and distance he could see that they were struggling with more than the trauma of her being attacked by the Butcher. “But it was the guilt that destroyed our hopes for the future.”

  His brother sent him a sharp glance. “Guilt for what?”

  Ash gave a sad shake of his head. “Remi felt guilty for her father’s death. She had a crazy idea that if she hadn’t called to say she was being followed, her father would still be alive. And to be honest, it only made it worse that his body was never found. I think a part of her had desperately hoped that he would miraculously return. With each passing day, she blamed herself more and more.”

  “And your guilt?” Jax pressed.

  “I should never have let Gage go there alone. I was his partner.”

  Jax muttered a curse. “His younger partner. Gage was your superior, and it was his call to split up, so you could cover more ground. Just as it was your duty to obey his order.”

  Ash shrugged. Easy to say the words, it was much harder to dismiss the gnawing remorse. If only . . .

  Heaving a sigh, he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He’d given Jax the explanation he demanded. He didn’t have the strength to argue whether it made any sense or not.

  Ash kept his eyes closed even as the traffic thickened, and they slowed to a mere crawl. He’d driven to the morgue enough times to know exactly when they were pulling into the side parking lot.

  Lifting his head, he studied the long, cement block building with two rows of narrow windows. Nothing had changed in the past few years. Maybe the trees lining the street had grown a little taller, and they’d replaced the flags out front. Otherwise it was the same stark structure he remembered.

  Jax switched off the engine, turning his head toward Ash. “I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

  “I have to.” Ash unbuckled the seat belt and pushed open the door before stepping out.

  Behind him was the sound of hurried footsteps as Jax rushed to keep up. Not that Ash was going to get far without him. He was no longer a cop, which meant he would have to hang on to the hope that Remi still had him listed as an emergency contact to get past the security.

  Much easier to let Jax do his thing.

  Quickly at his side, Jax took charge as they entered the building. They were halted twice, but Jax flashed his badge and quickly they were stepping into a harshly lit room that felt ice-cold.

  Ash shivered. He hated coming here. Even when it was a part of his job. Now his stomach was twisted so tight it felt like it’d been yanked into knots.

  They were led by a technician down a long row of steel racks where bodies wrapped in heavy plastic waited for an official ID. Or perhaps for an autopsy. He’d tried not to really notice what was going on behind the scenes. Now he felt as if he was in a dream as the technician waved for them to stop and Jax wrapped an arm around his shoulders. No, it was more like a nightmare. One that wasn’t going to end if it truly was Remi who was being slid out on a steel slab.

  Taking care not to disturb the body any more than necessary, the technician slowly pulled back the plastic cover. Ash made a choked sound as he caught sight of the long black hair that was glossy enough to reflect the overhead light. It was pulled from a pale, beautiful face, just like Remi liked to wear it.

  He swayed to the side, leaning heavily against his brother as pain blasted through him. “Christ.”

  “Steady,” Jax murmured.

  Ash’s gaze absorbed the delicate features. They were so heart-wrenchingly familiar. The slender nose. The high, prominent cheekbones. The dark, perfectly arched brows. The lush lips.

  “I didn’t want to believe,” he rasped, his voice coming from a long way away. As if he was falling off a cliff and was waiting to hit the bottom.

  Would he die when that happened?

  He hoped so.

  What would be the point of living in a world without Remi Walsh?

  “I’m sorry,” Jax said, his own voice harsh with pain.

  Ash’s gaze remained locked on Remi’s lips. It’d been five years but he still remembered their last kiss. He’d just told
her that he intended to take a job at the university. Deep inside he’d hoped she would be furious at his decision. He wanted her to fight for their future together. Instead she’d offered a sad smile and leaned forward to brush her mouth over his in a silent goodbye.

  He’d nearly cried even as he’d savored the taste of her strawberry lip balm . . .

  Ash stilled. Lip balm. Why was there a warning voice whispering at the back of his fuzzy brain? Maybe he was going crazy. What the hell did her lips have to do with anything? He frowned, telling himself to turn away.

  He’d done what he came there to do. What was the point of gawking at Remi as if he hoped she would suddenly open her eyes? It was time to go.

  But his feet refused to budge. He knew Jax was staring at him in confusion, and that the technician was starting to shift from one foot to another, but still he continued to run his gaze over Remi’s pale face.

  Something was nagging at him. But what?

  Then his gaze returned to her mouth and he realized what his unconscious mind was trying to tell him.

  She was wearing lipstick. A bright red shade. And more than that, there was makeup plastered on her skin and what looked like false lashes stuck to her lids. The harsh lighting had washed everything to a dull shade of ash, which was why he hadn’t noticed it the minute the cover had been pulled back.

  “That’s not her,” he breathed.

  “Ash.” Jax’s arm tightened around his shoulders. “I know this is tough, but—”

  “It’s not her,” Ash interrupted, his heart returning to sluggish life.

  How had he been so blind? Remi never wore makeup. Not even when her mother insisted on dragging her to some fancy-ass party. She claimed that it made her skin itch, plus she didn’t feel the need to slap paint on herself to try and impress other people. If they didn’t like her face, then they didn’t have to look at it.

  Her down-to-earth attitude was one of the things he’d loved about her.

  Of course, as far as he was concerned she was gorgeous. She didn’t need anything artificial to make his palms sweat and his pulse race.

  “How can you be sure?” Jax demanded, his voice revealing his fear that Ash had gone over the edge. “Like you said, it’s been five years. She could have changed in that time. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me?”

  Ash jutted his chin. He wasn’t going to explain about the makeup. Jax would tell him a woman might very well change her mind about cosmetics as she started to age. Or perhaps she had a boyfriend who wanted her to plaster her face with the gunk. Besides, now that he was looking at the dead woman with his brain and not his heart, he could start to detect physical differences. The nose was just a tad too long. Her brow not quite wide enough. And her jaw too blunt.

  “I’m sure.” His voice was strong. Confident. “It’s not her.”

  “He’s right.” A new voice cut through the air, echoing eerily through the racks of dead bodies. “I just got the results from the fingerprints back.”

  They all turned to watch as Dr. Jack Feldman, one of the city’s top medical examiners, stepped out of the shadows. A short man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard, he was wearing a white lab coat that didn’t hide the start of an impressive potbelly. He’d been a good friend of Gage Walsh, and had extended that friendship to Ash when he’d become Gage’s partner.

  He’d also adored Remi, treating her like she was his own child. It must have been a hideous shock to have a woman who looked so much like her show up in his morgue.

  “Feldman,” Ash murmured, stepping away from his brother so he could pull the older man into a rough hug.

  They shared a silent moment of tangled emotions, then the doctor slapped him on the back and pulled back to study him with a sympathetic gaze.

  “Good to see you, Ash, although not under these circumstances.”

  Ash cleared his throat, his attention moving toward the electronic pad clutched in Feldman’s hand. “Did you get an ID?”

  Feldman held up a hand before he glanced toward the silent technician.

  “I’ll take it from here, Jimmy,” he told the young man. They waited until Jimmy turned and left the room before Feldman led them to a distant corner. His dark eyes rested on Ash’s face. “I shouldn’t be talking to you, but I’m pretty sure you’ll get the information one way or another. Plus, you’re one of us, even if you did jump ship for a while. Eventually you’ll come back where you belong.”

  They were the words he’d heard from a dozen different lawmen when he’d announced his decision to leave the Chicago Police Department and take a job teaching. And in truth, a part of him had secretly agreed.

  Being a detective was in his blood.

  He shook away the thought, nodding toward the electronic pad. “Who is she?”

  Feldman lifted the pad and touched the screen to call up a file. “Her name is Angel Conway. She’s a twenty-five-year-old white female. Five feet, six inches tall. One hundred thirty pounds.”

  Ash frowned. “Is she local?”

  “No.” Feldman brushed his finger over the screen. “Her address is Bailey, Illinois. A small town fifty miles south of the city.”

  Ash glanced toward Jax, who gave a shake of his head. He’d never heard of the town.

  “Do you have any other info?”

  Feldman was silent as he read through the short report. Ash knew Feldman must have shouted and bullied and called in every favor owed him to get any information so quickly. The Chicago coroner’s department was notoriously understaffed and overworked. It was only because of their dedicated staff they weren’t completely overwhelmed.

  “It looks like she worked at a convenience store and has a rap sheet for petty crimes,” Feldman murmured. “Mostly stealing and one count of prostitution.”

  Ash tried to process what he was being told. Not easy when his brain was still foggy from the extreme emotions that had battered him. Fear. Shock. Grief. Soul-shaking relief.

  He did, however, tuck the information away so he could pull it out later and truly consider what it all meant. “Where did they find her?”

  “Jameson Park,” Feldman said.

  Ash lifted his brows in surprise. Jameson Park was built along the shores of Lake Michigan, and popular enough to be crowded this time of year despite the frigid weather. Plus it would have a regular patrol officer who would do sweeps through the area.

  A dangerous place to do a dump.

  “That doesn’t fit the pattern,” he said.

  “No. But everything else does,” Feldman told him, turning around the pad so Ash could see the photos taken of Angel Conway’s naked body.

  For a second his stomach rolled in protest. It’d been a while since he’d seen death up close and personal. And the violence one person could inflict on another. Then he sucked in a slow, deep breath.

  Shutting down his emotions, he studied the picture with a professional attention to detail. He’d learned as a detective it was too easy to get overwhelmed by death. He had to break it down to small, individual pieces to keep himself focused on what was important.

  Leaning forward, he studied the cut that marred the slender throat. It was thin and smooth and just deep enough to cut through the carotid artery. There were no hesitation marks, and no ragged edges to indicate nerves or anger. It was a precision kill that seemed to be oddly lacking in emotion.

  Next his gaze moved to the small wound on the woman’s upper breast. It was carved into a neat crescent shape. This was the one detail they’d never revealed to the public.

  “Christ,” he breathed as he straightened. “He’s back.”

  Jax reached out to grasp his shoulder. “We can’t jump to conclusions, Ash.”

  Ash understood his brother’s warning. There was nothing more dangerous for an investigator than leaping to a conclusion, then becoming blind to other possibilities.

  But he was no longer a detective, and his gut instinct was screaming that this was the work of the killer who’d
destroyed the lives of so many. Including his own.

  “There’s more.” Feldman cleared his throat, lowering the pad. “She’s had plastic surgery.”

  “Not that unusual,” Jax said, echoing Ash’s own thoughts. “Lots of women, and men for that matter, think they need some nip and tuck.”

  Feldman grimaced. “This nip and tuck was for a particular purpose.”

  A chill crawled over Ash’s skin. Not the frigid air of the morgue, but something else. Perhaps a premonition. “What purpose?” he forced himself to ask.

  “If I had to make a guess, I would say it was to make Angel Conway look like Remi Walsh.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kat Martin is the New York Times bestselling author of over 60 books across multiple genres. Fifteen million copies are in print and she has been published in 21 foreign countries, including Japan, France, Argentina, Greece, China, and Spain. Her books have been nominated for the prestigious RITA award and won both the Lifetime Achievement and Reviewer’s Choice Awards from RT Book Reviews.

  photo credit: Dylan Patrick

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Rebecca Zanetti has worked as an art curator, Senate aide, lawyer, college professor, and a hearing examiner—only to culminate it all in stories about alpha males and the women who claim them. She writes contemporary romances, dark paranormal romances, and romantic suspense novels.

  Growing up amid the glorious backdrops and winter wonderlands of the Pacific Northwest has given Rebecca fantastic scenery and adventures to weave into her stories. She resides in the wild north with her husband, children, and extended family who inspire her every day—or at the very least give her plenty of characters to write about.

  Please visit Rebecca at: