Die for Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer

by Cynthia Eden

  He paused, but she knew what was coming.

  “You’ll need to be transferred again,” he said flatly.

  Another transfer. Another name. Another place.

  Another life.

  She turned away from him and watched the blur of buildings pass. “Will I ever get to be me again?”

  She couldn’t really remember that woman. A woman who’d been so blind. A woman who, for all purposes, had died three years ago.

  “It’s just not safe, not until Valentine is in custody.”

  She didn’t speak again. Not until Ross pulled into the long drive that led to her house. “I…ah…left my car at Joe’s Café.” She flushed with this confession. She’d been so shaken that she’d walked all the way from the café to the precinct. “Can you get someone to—”

  “I’ll get someone to bring it to you.” He killed the engine. “I want to come in and check the house.”

  Right. But she didn’t move. Her gaze raked the house, the yard.

  She’d been living in New Orleans for just over a year. Opened her gallery. Gotten into a seemingly normal routine. She’d even started dating someone.

  Now she was supposed to abandon everything. Again.

  And do what? Run forever? While more bodies piled up?

  No.

  “I’m done,” she told Ross, and climbed from the SUV. She shut the door on his shocked tumble of words.

  Then she began walking toward the house. One determined step after another.

  His door opened with a squeak and then slammed behind her. “Kat, Kat—you can’t mean this! It’s too dangerous! It’s—”

  She glanced back at him. “Don’t call me Kat.” Not a weak voice. Cold and flat. “And I’m going to do what I want to do. What I need to do.”

  No more running.

  “If Valentine wants me, then he can come and get me.” And stop hurting others. Just—stop!

  Gravel crunched beneath Ross’s footsteps. “You got some kind of death wish?”

  She laughed, but it sounded hollow. “I guess I do.”

  “Holy shit.” Mac’s curse heaved out on a hard sigh. “That’s her.”

  Dane stared down at the computer screen. While he’d been waiting on the Boston PD to fax over the case files, he’d started doing his own research on Valentine.

  The Internet was such a handy bitch. With a few clicks of the keyboard, a guy could find almost anything.

  Including pictures of one Katelynn Crenshaw. The photo had been snapped by a reporter right after Katelynn discovered her fiancé carving up his latest victim.

  Right in their basement.

  Her hair was longer and blonde in the picture. Her skin golden, and not the pale ivory it had been today. Her body was fuller, filled with lush curves.

  But her eyes were the same. No mistaking those eyes. Or her lips.

  “No wonder she knew so much about Valentine,” Harley said as he crowded in near the computer screen. “She was screwing the guy.”

  Dane’s shoulders tensed. The captain could be a real ass some days. “She told the cops everything she’d seen and spent months working with them as they tried to catch the guy.”

  He remembered the details now. Like the rest of the nation, he’d caught the images on TV about the Valentine Killer. Katelynn had come home early and found blood in her kitchen. She’d called 911 and gone looking for her fiancé. She’d found him in the basement, carving up Stephanie Gilbert.

  By the time the cops arrived, Valentine had disappeared. He had left Katelynn unharmed and he’d just…vanished.

  No more bodies had been discovered after his disappearance, so the Boston cops had started to think the guy might have killed himself. Some profiler appeared on one of the major network channels spewing about how a serial killer like Valentine couldn’t go dormant for so long. Since he wasn’t attacking, the profiler had said the guy might have turned his rage on himself. Suicide.

  Bullshit.

  From what Dane could tell, the profiler needed to think again.

  “Was she in on it, do you think?” Harley asked. “She had to know what a twisted freak he was.”

  Sometimes you couldn’t see the monsters right in front of you. No one had believed what a twisted SOB his old man had been, not until it was too late. “If this is really is Valentine, he’s here because of her.” He’d tracked her, all the way down the Eastern Seaboard. This was one man determined not to let go.

  “Yeah, well…” A chair squeaked as Mac rolled away. “You can sure bet that U.S. marshal will have her out of town as fast as he can.” Mac exhaled on a hard sigh. “They’re gonna want to keep her safe so they can pull her out at trial.”

  “Trial?” Dane repeated and forced his gaze off the picture of Katelynn. Katherine. “There’s no trial to worry about now.”

  “Just because no one else has caught him,” Harley interrupted smoothly, “doesn’t mean we can’t.”

  Harley might be an ass, but the guy had never been afraid of a challenge. He also loved getting his face splashed in the papers. If his department took down Valentine, he’d be able to wallpaper his office with all the news stories.

  “Here you go.” Detective Karen James handed a fat stack of papers across the desk to Dane. “All your info from a Detective Hobbs in Boston.”

  Not all. Sean Hobbs had promised to copy the rest of the files and overnight them. This two-inch stack was just the beginning.

  Dane began to flip through the pages. Valentine had been one grisly bastard.

  And he had only one weakness.

  “Dane.”

  He looked up at the captain’s voice.

  “I don’t want her leaving the city,” Harley said. “Whether we’re dealing with the real deal or some copycat, that woman is linked to these killings.”

  “All of the guy’s victims in Boston were blondes,” Dane said.

  “And now we’ve got us a dead brunette,” Harley cut in.

  Dane met Mac’s thoughtful stare.

  “Katherine’s a brunette now,” Mac said.

  Yes, she was.

  When he’d first found Savannah’s body and seen her clutching that rose, Dane had made the connection to the Valentine case just like the reporters had. He’d remembered that Valentine liked to bind his victims and then stab them in the heart.

  But as for all the small pieces, the facts, the profiles…that was what he needed to discover if he was going to find out what the hell was happening now.

  “Read that report. Start piecing together all that you can on Valentine,” Harley ordered. “We have to work fast, because if it is him, the bureau will be down here trying to take over my case.”

  No missing the my.

  “We all know you have a way with the ladies, Black,” the captain continued. Detective James, who’d stayed around to shamelessly eavesdrop, snickered at that. Harley ignored her and pointed at Dane. “So I want you to use some of that charm and keep Katherine Cole in New Orleans, you got me?”

  Dane nodded. “Don’t worry, Cap. Katherine’s not going anywhere.”

  Because she was the key to the case, and he’d be damned if he let the bodies start to pile up in his city.

  Valentine had a weakness, all right, and Dane would be using that weakness against him.

  Katherine, you’re not getting away.

  Not when he needed her so badly.

  The house was clean. No, more than that. Immaculate. Fresh paint on the shutters. The windows gleamed as if freshly polished. There were no leaves or any debris anywhere in the front yard.

  Dane stared up at the house. Katherine Cole’s house. She had no close neighbors. No one to see what was happening at her place.

  No one to hear the screams.

  He raised his hand to the door and knocked hard with his fist.

  While he waited, he exhaled slowly and wondered what kind of sweet talk he should use.

  Then Katherine Cole opened the door. She stared at him with her wide, lost eyes,
and he just said, “Help me catch the bastard.”

  She nodded.

  – 3 –

  The house smelled like her. Fresh strawberries. Sweet. Heady.

  Katherine led him into the den, a den that looked like something out of a glossy home magazine. Picture-damn-perfect, but without a single personal touch. No photos. No mementos.

  “You know who I am.” She turned and faced him with her chin up.

  He inclined his head. “Katelynn.”

  “No!” she snapped as she shook her head, sending her dark hair sliding over her shoulders. “I…” She cleared her throat. “I go by Katherine now.”

  Right. Best to lay the cards on the table. “You planning to leave town?” Dane asked as he raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s what Ross wants.”

  The marshal was going to be a problem. “And what do you want?” he demanded as he strode toward her. He gave her credit. The woman didn’t back up.

  Her breath whispered out over her lips. Sexy lips. “I want my life back, Detective Black.”

  He closed in on her. Inhaled more of that sweet scent. “Then work with me,” he said. “Stay here in New Orleans. If this really is Valentine, help me to stop the bastard.” He said “if,” but the truth was that he already suspected they were facing the real deal. The crime scene had been so perfect, and those wounds on the victim’s arms had been an exact match to the other killings.

  Katherine stared up at him. She was small, no taller than five foot five, and she tilted her head as she met his eyes. “I will help you.” Firm. “That’s why I came to the station. Why I told you to contact Sean.” Her stare didn’t waver. “I’ve already let Ross know that I won’t be leaving town.”

  His captain would be shit-eating-grin happy over that news.

  Her eyelids flickered. “Believe me, I want Valentine stopped as much as you do.” Her laugh was bitter, broken. “More than you do, okay? More. I want the guy caught and locked in a cage for the rest of his life.”

  Bloodthirsty.

  “So I’ll be staying here, Detective—”

  “Dane.” Not just detective. They were going to be working together, working very closely together, and he wanted her calling him by his name.

  She blinked and nodded slowly. “I’ll be here, Dane. This time I won’t run away.”

  He realized that this Katherine wasn’t the same as the broken woman in the photograph. Determination tightened her features and kept her back straight.

  A fighter.

  Good. She’d need to be.

  He’d wondered just what kind of woman Valentine had lost his heart to. Now he knew.

  And Dane realized that he’d been right about Katherine all along. She could be a very dangerous woman indeed.

  Dane returned to Katherine’s house that night and watched her from the shadows. Now that he knew her relationship to Valentine and with one woman already in the morgue, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her unguarded.

  There was just something about Katherine Cole…

  She was working her way right under his skin.

  Was this the way it had been for Valentine? The question whispered through his mind. Had Valentine met her and not been able to get her out of his head?

  She’s in my head.

  If he weren’t careful, the situation could be deadly.

  Headlights lit the area as another car approached. The vehicle slowed and then braked at the end of Katherine’s drive. Dane tensed, then saw a guy in a three-piece suit hurry out of his fancy sports car.

  He ran a hand over his face. He hadn’t expected Katherine to have a date, but it looked like the lady had planned a night out on the town. For some reason, the sight of the jerk in that overpriced suit pissed him off. Katherine, dressed in a form-fitting black dress that hugged her body like a sweet glove, smiled at the bozo when she opened the front door and even let the guy kiss her cheek.

  Bastard.

  Dane wrote down the bastard’s tag number and called it in while he trailed them to a high-end restaurant. In less than five minutes, he knew that Katherine’s date was Dr. Trent Lancaster, a local shrink.

  Jeez, a shrink? He’d never liked the head case doctors. They analyzed everything to death.

  The guy’s hands were a little too clingy as he led Katherine toward the restaurant. And Dane realized he was gripping his steering wheel a little too tightly.

  Just a case. Just a case. Breathing deeply, he forced his hands to relax. Then he pulled out his phone and called Mac. One ring. Two. The shrink and Katherine disappeared into the restaurant.

  Mac answered on the third ring. Dane could tell by the background noise that his partner was still at the station. Perfect.

  “Run a check for me,” Dane said without bothering to identify himself. “Find out every bit of intel you can on Dr. Trent Lancaster.” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, and he kept his eyes on the restaurant’s entrance.

  One of Katherine’s lovers had been a killer.

  Was another?

  This wasn’t working. Katherine forced herself to smile at Trent. He was talking about an article he’d written, something about behavioral regression, and she wanted to just drop her head and bang it on the table. Hard. Over and over.

  Not working.

  Had she really thought she might be able to sleep with Trent? That tonight would be the date that finally took their relationship to the next level?

  Her body was so amped up that she felt as if every muscle trembled, and her eyes couldn’t seem to stop searching the room.

  Someone’s watching me. The tension in her belly told her that.

  “I was thinking that we could rent a cottage at the beach for a few days,” Trent said, his voice with that smooth, perfect tone that no doubt lulled many of his patients. “It would give us a chance to get to know each other even better.”

  Can’t, Trent. The instant denial sprang to her lips, but she managed to bite it back. My serial-killer ex might be in town.

  She also choked back the slightly hysterical laughter that rose within her.

  “Uh, Kat?”

  She flinched. “Katherine. Not Kat, remember?” Because whenever someone called her Kat, she heard Valentine’s voice in her head.

  Trent blinked.

  Great. Now she was being a bitch to her date. Trent didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. She forced a wan smile. “I’m sorry, Trent, but I’m just not feeling well tonight.” She should have canceled the date.

  His handsome face immediately crinkled with concern even as he inched back from her. The instinctive response of a guy who was preparing for something he didn’t want to hear. Then he cleared his throat and asked, “What can I do?”

  She rubbed her throbbing temples. “I think I need to go home.” Too many people were there. Watching. So many eyes had been on her after the Valentine case exploded.

  So many people, judging her.

  As she sat there, Katherine still felt like she was being judged. “Please,” she whispered. “I want to go home.”

  “Of course.” He reached for her hand, and she had to fight the instinct to recoil. His touch felt cold, clammy.

  What would Trent do if he knew who she really was? Would his eyes look so caring? Or would he start to study her with that clinical detachment she’d seen in the eyes of his partner, Evelyn Knight? She’d gone to Evelyn to get help. To try to stop the nightmares and the paranoia. Someone’s watching…

  But from the very first, Evelyn had made her feel tense. Her questions had been designed to rip right through Katherine’s skin.

  I’ve already been filleted enough, thank you.

  “Trent…” She reached for her bag but kept her eyes on him. This needed to be said. His grip was making her tense, and his eyes…they were looking for too much as he stared at her. “I don’t think it’s going to work between us.”

  His lips tightened a bit. “But we seem so compatible.”

  Compatible.

>   She knew Trent was used to women falling at his feet. He was handsome. Smart. Charming. The perfect gentleman. Pity she wasn’t the perfect lady for him.

  When he touched her, she didn’t feel anything. She hadn’t realized that was really a problem. For three years, she’d existed in that void, not truly feeling anything.

  Then Dane Black had touched her. He’d been full of anger. Determination. Humming with wild energy.

  And she’d wanted him. For the first time in three years, she’d actually felt something other than fear at a man’s touch.

  She’d thought Trent might be able to make her feel something tonight.

  No dice. And he deserved better than to be strung along by her. “You’re a wonderful guy, Trent, but trust me on this, I’m not the right girl for you.”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. “You’re just not feeling well,” he said dismissively as he rose to his feet and signaled the waiter. “We’ll talk about this after you’re back to your old self.”

  “I’m sorry, Trent.” She rose as well, and a few moments later, they were leaving the restaurant.

  Trent might think all would be different in the morning, but nothing was going to change for Katherine. She knew she wouldn’t be carrying through with her plans to sleep with him.

  She couldn’t. She just didn’t want him, and she couldn’t make herself want him.

  The date had ended too soon. When Trent and Katherine had come hurrying out of the restaurant, Dane had tensed.

  Then they drove right back to her house. They’d gone fast, maybe too fast, as he carefully tailed behind them.

  Hell. He understood what that speed meant.

  Why did that piss him off so much?

  Dane clenched his jaw. He had no claim on Katherine. If she wanted to screw her shrink, then she could screw him all night long.

  The thought burned right though him, but Dane locked his muscles and didn’t move from his now-parked car. He’d found an old dirt road that ran alongside Katherine’s property. A perfect place from which to watch and not be seen.