Die for Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer

by Cynthia Eden

  “Don’t!” He was coming at her with the knife.

  “You cut yourself when you were a teen,” he said, the words a dark rumble. “What set you off, Evelyn? What twisted you?”

  She remembered the old house she’d once lived in. With the beautiful roses that her mother had loved. “My mother died when I was five.”

  He waited. Watched.

  “My father remarried a few years later, and I hated her.”

  His eyes didn’t blink.

  “When my father was out of town, she’d have men over. I told him. He didn’t believe me. No one ever believed me.” Softer.

  “Those men, what did they do?”

  Just one man. “He hurt me.” He’d been drunk. He’d caught her alone. His hands had been big and pale and freckled.

  She’d bled.

  Her stepmother had laughed when she told her the story. Denise with her long, dark hair and her pale, perfect skin.

  Denise had stopped laughing when Evelyn had pushed her down the stairs. An accident, or so the police had thought.

  They’d thought wrong.

  “Have there been others?” he asked quietly. “Others you’ve killed?”

  His eyes said he knew about her stepmother.

  Did he know about the man she’d picked up at the bar on her twenty-first birthday? When she’d changed her mind about the pickup and become afraid, he’d been angry. He’d pushed for more from her. Tried to take more than she wanted to give, and she’d pulled her knife from her purse. She always kept her knife close. She needed it to feel safe.

  The knife had wound up in that frat boy’s throat.

  “Oh, Evelyn…” His sigh was sad. “You didn’t kill for me. You did all of that for you.”

  “We’re alike!” she told him, desperate for him to see. There wasn’t anything damaged about her. She was stronger, better, just like him. They were a match. “We survived. We grew stronger.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  Yes.

  “I can be better for you than Kat.” Her words came so quickly. “I can be just what you need. I can be everything—”

  “Kat was abused when she was a kid. Hurt, again and again. She didn’t…” His eyes were on the knife. “She didn’t turn out like us.”

  “Kat’s weak. She jumps at her own shadow. She—”

  His head snapped up. Rage was boiling in his eyes. Scaring her. “She’s stronger than you are. Stronger than all the others. Unbroken. Pure. She wasn’t like the other women.”

  The women he’d killed in Boston? Or had there been even more?

  Jealousy twisted her gut.

  “The others didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. Kat did. Kat cared. She…loved me.”

  “No!” The denial burst from her. “She loved who she thought you were! I love you!” All of him.

  “Kat’s good,” he whispered. “She didn’t do drugs, didn’t whore herself out like the others who had our piss-fucking-poor start in life. She was better.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “She made me want to be better.”

  “You are better—”

  “And you tried to kill her.” His eyes blazed.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  “You think I didn’t know it was you? You with your drugs. Such a fucking sloppy way to kill. First Savannah, then Amy. Then you went after my Kat.”

  Rage splintered her. “Katherine is not better than me!” Kat was as damaged as they came. Evelyn knew she should have killed that scrawny bitch months ago. The first time Trent had looked at her.

  Trent.

  “You killed Trent,” Evelyn said. At first, she truly had been devastated by Trent’s death. She’d never planned for him to die, but when she realized what his death truly meant—

  Valentine was there.

  Her pain had faded then, and she’d taken the necessary steps to eliminate Kat. Only Kat hadn’t died.

  “I’ve killed a lot of different people.” Deliberately vague. He used the knife to cut open her shirt.

  She wasn’t afraid. “Trent Lancaster. I thought maybe Kat had done it…but it was you.”

  “He shouldn’t have hurt her.”

  He’d killed Trent for Kat? Her own rage blossomed. “She wasn’t worth his life.”

  The blade of the knife pressed against her bra strap. “You hate my Kat, don’t you?”

  She held her tongue. Yes. As long as she’s around, you’ll be tied to her. “You don’t need her any longer.” Why couldn’t he understand? “You have me. I won’t ever judge you. I can help you. Protect you.” That was why she’d become a psychiatrist. To protect herself. To learn to see the weakness in others. “Just get these ropes off me. I can offer you so much. I can—”

  He drove the knife into her chest. She cried out, choking as the pain flooded her. Valentine bent and put his lips near her ear. “I know you planned to go after Kat next. I know about your stepmother, I know about the college boy, I know about the old bastard you drowned in the pool.” His lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “I know everything about you, Dr. Knight. And you are not what I need.” He twisted the blade.

  “I…love…” Her fingers wouldn’t move. The ropes didn’t hurt any longer.

  Her body felt cold. Already. She was chilled and she wanted some cover to warm her.

  She’d loved him. Believed that she’d found someone who would understand…

  “You thought you’d hurt Kat.” The rage was roughening his voice once more. “No one hurts her.”

  Fixated. He was too locked on Kat.

  Just as I was too locked on Valentine.

  He wasn’t perfect. Wasn’t the man she needed. Wasn’t the perfect man who could understand her secrets.

  He was darkness. He was death.

  Her lashes fell closed.

  The knife twisted again, but this time, Evelyn didn’t feel the pain. She was far past feeling anything at all.

  Dane kicked open the door of the psychiatry office. Mac was on his heels as he raced inside.

  And Dane could smell blood.

  He heard a faint gurgle, a groan of sound…

  He ran forward, gun drawn, rushing toward the closed door to Evelyn’s office.

  Another kick, and the door was open.

  The scent of blood was so much stronger.

  “Fuck,” Mac muttered.

  “Put your hands up!” Dane yelled as he took in the scene before him.

  Evelyn, tied down on her own desk. Blood all around her. And a man leaned over her. The man’s back was to Dane, but he seemed damn familiar.

  His hands began to rise. There was no weapon in his hands because his knife was embedded in Evelyn’s chest.

  “Step away from her,” Dane ordered.

  The man backed up.

  Dane hurried forward. Felt for a pulse on Evelyn’s neck.

  “You arrived too late,” the man said. “That’s what Kat did too, years ago. Always too late…”

  He finally turned to face Dane.

  And Dane knew that face.

  The brown eyes. The broken nose. This guy had claimed to be Katherine’s friend. This guy was dating the captain’s fucking daughter.

  He was staring at Ben Miller.

  Sirens yelled in the distance.

  “You look surprised,” Ben murmured, smiling. “Kat looked that way when she found me with Stephanie. Surprised, shocked…” He took a step forward.

  “Take one more step, and I’ll put a bullet in your heart,” Dane told him.

  Valentine raised his brows. “Would you shoot an unarmed man?”

  “If that unarmed bastard was you, hell yes, I would.”

  And he would. It was all part of the darkness that rested inside him.

  Valentine smiled. “I knew you were like that. You’re not the hero. Kat is so wrong about you.”

  Mac grabbed the guy’s arms and began to handcuff him while Dane kept the bastard locked in his sights.

  “Don’t fucking talk about her,
” Dane snarled.

  “Why? Afraid she’ll realize you’re as twisted as me? As screwed as—”

  Dane lunged toward him. “I know you want me to pull the trigger.”

  “What you want.” Valentine flinched when Mac tightened the cuffs. “You both want me dead. But the badges that you wear won’t let you just shoot me and walk away.”

  Valentine glanced over his shoulder at Mac. Sweat beaded Mac’s temples. “That little ME…I warned her about what would happen if she talked.”

  “You won’t hurt her!” Mac shouted.

  “Maybe I won’t be the one who goes after her.” Valentine shrugged. “Maybe it will be one of my fans. Take a look on the Internet. So many people out there, desperate for a taste of power. I bet I could get them to do anything for me.”

  And it was true. Dammit. With a few careful words, another copycat would be born. Aim and kill.

  Mac’s breath heaved. “You won’t—”

  “Valentine!” Dane snarled, drawing the killer’s focus back to him. Mac was on a razor’s edge. He wouldn’t let his partner lose control.

  And he wouldn’t let Valentine take control from them.

  “You have the right to remain silent,” Dane began. His gaze shot to Mac’s. “Call for backup. Tell them we’ve got the bastard.”

  Valentine’s body had tensed.

  “Anything you fucking say will be held against you,” Dane continued. He was close to the killer now, and he stared straight into the guy’s eyes.

  But Valentine laughed. “I won’t be staying in jail, so it doesn’t matter what I say.”

  Mac shoved the man forward. “You’re never getting out. They’re gonna shove you in a hole so deep, you won’t see daylight again.”

  Valentine didn’t stop smiling, and as he finished reading the bastard his rights, Dane couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end for the serial killer.

  Not yet.

  “The captain sure has a pretty daughter,” Valentine murmured as they shoved him toward the door. “Not as beautiful as my Kat, but I’ve sure enjoyed getting to know her.”

  The prick. The captain was still in the hospital, in the ICU. Dane had tried to reach Maggie, but he’d been told she was out of town for a seminar.

  “Though I don’t know if sweet Maggie enjoyed getting to know me as much.”

  She’s not out of town. Fuck. Dane’s hold tightened on the killer. “What have you done?”

  Valentine’s gaze cut to him. “I guess you’ll have to just wait and find out, won’t you, Detective?”

  Katherine tensed when the doors to the high-rise swung open. A security guard was in the lobby—he’d given Dane and Mac access to the offices moments before.

  Now the man was scrambling outside. He had a radio in his hand, and it looked like he was calling for help.

  “Sonofabitch,” Marcus whispered as he shoved open the door of his vehicle. “They got him.”

  She’d been sitting in the car with Marcus. Dane had refused to let her go into the building, and Marcus had been given guard duty. But when she caught sight of three more men coming out of those swinging doors, Katherine shoved her way out of the vehicle.

  Sirens screamed in the distance, coming closer and closer. Backup for the detectives, racing to the scene.

  Dark shadows concealed much of the men as they walked toward Katherine. Marcus took up a position beside her, and she saw him draw out his weapon.

  Her eyes narrowed as she strained to see.

  Dane…Dane’s strong shoulders. His determined walk. He was okay.

  And—that was Mac, on the far left. Holding tight to their prisoner.

  Brakes squealed behind Katherine. The cavalry had arrived.

  She didn’t look back. She was too busy straining to see the face of the man who was held by both Dane and Mac.

  The man who—

  She knew.

  They’d just stepped under one of the streetlights. Katherine’s heart seemed to stop in that instant as her gaze swept over the man’s face.

  It wasn’t the face of the man she’d known as Michael O’Rourke. Michael had been classically handsome. High cheekbones. A straight bridge of a nose. Dark hair.

  This man—he looked nothing like Valentine.

  Maybe that was why she had seen him so many times, again and again, and hadn’t realized…

  Katherine was staring right at the man she knew as Ben Miller. Bodybuilder Ben with his easy smile. The guy who’d always been at the café in the morning, grabbing breakfast right after he worked out.

  Always at the café…waiting on me.

  Always there…watching me.

  He was wearing contact lenses. That was why his eyes had been dark, not the green she remembered. Contacts and fake glasses. The glasses had been an extra deception to throw her off. They’d made his eyes look bigger, but now, without them, she could see that his eye shape…it was the same.

  “Hello, Kat.” He’d dropped the fake Southern drawl, the rumble that had always slid beneath Ben’s words.

  His nose was different—the bridge wider, with a heavy bump in the middle. His cheeks were fuller, his jaw more rounded. Even his lips were different. What had he done? Injected them with collagen? He’d dyed his hair. Let it grow so much longer. Long enough to curl lightly. Michael—he’d always kept his hair almost too short before.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked softly.

  Uniform cops swarmed him. Dane and Mac kept their grip on the killer and pushed him toward the back of a patrol car.

  “I missed you,” Valentine called out to her. “Missed you so much that I had to get close again.”

  How many times had they had breakfast together? He’d been just feet from her, all those days…

  And she hadn’t known.

  “No one else has ever been as perfect for me as you, no one else was good enough—”

  Dane slammed the door, halting Valentine’s words. A uniform was already behind the wheel of the car. Mac jumped in the front passenger seat. The siren screamed on as the vehicle rolled forward.

  Another patrol car was moving behind that vehicle. A motorcycle pulled in front, leading the line.

  Katherine stared there, lost, stunned, as the swirling lights of the police cruisers lit up the scene.

  Someone touched her shoulder, and Katherine jumped, flinching.

  “Easy,” Dane whispered. “It’s me.”

  His touch usually warmed her, but right then she just felt…cold. “Where’s Evelyn?”

  No answer.

  “Where. Is. She.” A demand.

  “She was already dead.” His jaw tightened. “She wanted Valentine, and it looks like she got exactly what she wanted.”

  Marcus swore.

  Cops were heading toward the building. A crime-scene van rolled up.

  “The reporters are going to be here soon,” Dane said. “They would have been listening to the police radio. We need to get you out of here.”

  Right. Only she wasn’t moving.

  Dane put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her toward him. “We got him, Katherine. We got the bastard.”

  “He looks so different,” she whispered. “But before he got into that patrol car, his voice—his voice was Michael’s.”

  Dane gave a grim nod. “We’ll check his prints, compare his DNA, but the bastard confessed upstairs. He is Valentine.”

  “Then it’s over,” Marcus said. “His crimes end—”

  But he broke off, seeing as Katherine did the hard jerk of his head that Dane had just given.

  “We need to find Maggie Dunning,” Dane said.

  “Isn’t she at the hospital?” Katherine asked slowly. “With her father?”

  “I hope to hell she is by now.” But Dane didn’t look hopeful. “Because it sounded like the guy was taunting us upstairs.” His gaze burned into Katherine’s. “He wanted us to think he still had one more victim out there…”

  “Maggie.” Margaret Dunning.


  Marcus rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “He’s still playing with us.”

  Dane’s expression was hard, unreadable, but fear had thickened inside Katherine because yes, she was very afraid that Valentine was still playing and that the deaths weren’t over.

  Not yet.

  – 19 –

  They had the sonofabitch.

  Valentine sat, hands cuffed behind him, two uniformed guards just a few feet away, in a chair in interrogation room number one. Dane and Mac were in the observation room, surrounded by half a dozen other detectives. The DA, Henry Meadows, was there, pacing nervously. He was sweating, and the cool-under-fire DA wasn’t normally the type to sweat.

  “No one can locate Margaret Dunning,” Meadows said, jaw locking. His light blue eyes were a stark contrast to his dark brown skin. “There was no conference out of town. No seminar. She hasn’t been at work in three days, and her apartment is empty.”

  Dane glanced through the observation mirror. Valentine had a faint smile curving his lips. “He knows where she is.”

  “Is she dead, Detective?” Meadows asked flatly.

  Probably. But he couldn’t bring himself to say what they all feared. Margaret—Maggie. She’d always been a sweet girl. Kind to everyone she met. Far too trusting for a cop’s daughter.

  Meadows exhaled. “We need to know. Because I don’t want to bargain with that sick prick over a dead woman’s body.”

  “Even when it’s the captain’s daughter?” Mac snapped at him.

  Meadows glanced through the glass. “People in this city are gonna want the death penalty for him. I know assholes just like him. Seen plenty like him over the years. Plenty of twisted freaks. He’ll try to trade the woman’s body for his own life. If I make that deal…”

  “The captain’s daughter,” Mac repeated, sounding as if rage were choking him.

  “If she’s alive, I’ll do anything to get her back,” Meadows said instantly. “But let’s make absolutely sure that Valentine has her. That the girl didn’t just get pissed and run out of town or—”

  “She’s the daughter of a cop.” Dane kept his gaze on Valentine. The guy looked far too smug. “She knows better than to vanish without telling someone where she’s going.” He lifted his hand. Tapped the glass. “He knows where she is. He planned for this, wanted a way out in case we caught him.”