Hotter After Midnight (22 page)

“I’m going to talk to Smith. See what she’s saying about the victim.” Brooks stepped away, disappearing into the swarm of blue uniforms.

“What’s happening?” Emily’s gaze darted to the line of police cruisers. “McNeal just told me to get down here, fast.”

Shit. She didn’t even know what she was walking into. He grabbed her arm, pulled her with him. “Another murder. Same MO as Myers.” He bent, crouching under the yellow line of police tape at the entrance to the station.

Emily sucked in a sharp breath. “He struck again?”

“You said he probably would.”

“Yes, but I’d hoped I was wrong.” She licked her lips. “The victim…who is it?”

Colin flashed his badge to the cops blocking the crime scene. Emily pulled her ID out of her bag. “She’s working the case as a profiler,” he said.

The scent of blood was stronger now. Clogging his nostrils. Tickling the back of his throat.

If he’d been in his other form, he would have relished the smell. The beast loved the scent.

But the man hated it.

“Colin.” Emily pulled against his hand. “Who’s the victim?”

He dropped her fingers. Pulled out his latex gloves. Time to get to work. “Darla Mitchell.” He shoved open the door and walked into hell.

It was the same as before. The exact same.

Darla’s prone body lay on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding her body. Her throat had been ripped away, torn, clawed. Her eyes were wide open, frozen in horror, and her mouth was twisted in a silent scream.

She’d been pretty in life. But death hadn’t been so kind.

Emily stared down at her still figure. The scents of blood and death filled her nostrils. Around her, she could vaguely hear a buzz of conversation. Brooks was whispering with Smith. Colin was talking to a uniformed officer, ordering the guy to get every piece of surveillance data the station had. A man in a white coat was walking around the body, snapping pictures.

And Darla stared up at her. Screaming.

Emily closed her eyes. Felt the rage simmering in the room. So strong…

She drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly. The kill was fresh. And the dark power of the killer still hung in the air like a looming shadow.

There was no doubt in her mind that the killer who’d savaged Preston Myers and the killer who’d ripped out Darla’s throat were one and the same. Even the blood spatters on the wall looked similar.

The taint of power surrounded her, and Emily realized there was something familiar about that remnant energy. About the hate and twisted fury.

Her eyes opened, scanned the room. Colin was a few steps away from her. Should she warn him about what she was going to do?

But what if she did and the others overheard? Too many people were in the small room. No, she’d just be careful. Not pry too deeply into his mind.

But she had to see…

Emily looked back at the body and slowly, very slowly, lowered the mental shield in her mind.

Shit. I can’t believe the bastard struck again so soon. We’d better find his face on the security camera. No way could he
have gotten in and out of this place without someone knowing. The station’s a freaking zoo.

Colin’s mind. She pushed his thoughts away, tried to link with the flow of the killer.

I hope she didn’t suffer.

Her brow furrowed. Not the killer. This guy felt…too sad, but he was definitely
Other.
Her head lifted and she looked toward the door. A young, uniformed cop stood in the entranceway, his hands clenched into fists. He hadn’t been there when she’d arrived.

Must have just come on duty.

A charmer.

She dismissed him, tried to search again. Damn. It’d been so long since she’d lowered her shields with a group of people. It was hard to narrow her focus. So hard to—

The bitch was too easy to kill.

Emily stiffened. That wasn’t some kind of remnant energy.

Her blood tasted good.
He could still feel it on his tongue.

Shit. Her body began to tremble. She moved her head carefully, inch by inch. Scanned the room.

Colin and the young cop were the only supernaturals she saw.

She was been better than that other bastard. Tasted sweeter. Maybe I’ll go for a woman again the next time too.

Emily took one halting step toward the door, then another. Her body felt weighted, but at the same time it was as if she were being pulled. Pulled toward him.

The killer.

He was still in the building.

She had to find him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her shields all the way. Felt a flood of hot, dark power singe her, and she lunged for the door.

She’d find him now; she had his psychic trail. She’d get him and—

“Where the hell are you going?” Brooks stepped in front of her, frowning. “This is a crime scene, Dr. Drake, you can’t go running—”

“Get out of my way.”

The cops are right in front of me. The fucking idiots. Maybe I’ll do one of them next. Yeah, that’d be good.

Brooks lifted a brow but stepped back.

Would cops taste different? Would they try to fight more?

Emily hurried out of Darla’s office. Looked to the left.
That way.

Cops were searching the hall, some crouching. Standing. Some were talking to reporters.

The dark trail of power was stronger now. Closer.

She shouldn’t have fucked with me. Should have left the doctor alone
.

Emily froze as she caught his thought.
The doctor.

Darla had asked her questions at the press conference. Asked her about demons.

Had the killer known?

“Emily!” Colin’s voice. A loud, demanding cry that turned every head in the hallway.

The voice in her mind shut off. The twisting power dissipated.

Shit.

Emily ran down the hallway, ignoring Colin’s call. It was like the guy had just thrown up some kind of block. No, not a block. A shield. A shield just like hers.

That didn’t make a damn bit of sense. She’d never met a shifter who had enough psychic power to put up a shield. A demon, yes, but not a shifter.

She pushed past two cops. Turned the corner. And ran straight into Jake.

“Dr. Drake!” His eyes widened and his arms automatically wrapped around her as she barreled into him.

She felt the weak flow of his magic surround her.

Not the guy she was looking for. “Excuse me.” She pulled away from him, ran straight ahead.

But there was nothing. No telltale pull of power. No sign of any high-level supernaturals.

“Emily, what are you doing?” Colin grabbed her elbow, spun her around. “Why are you running?”

“He’s here.”

“What?”

“The killer. He’s still in the building. Or he was…just a moment ago.”

His fingers tightened around her. “How do you know? Did you see something?”

“I heard him.”

Colin frowned, and Emily realized that her words probably weren’t making much sense. But they were wasting time and she had to hurry.

“I lowered my shielding, okay?” Her voice was a whisper. “I wanted to see if I could sense anything about the killing and I-I sensed him. Heard his thoughts. Colin,
he was here,
just seconds ago.”

He reached for his gun. “You still hear ’im?”

Emily bit her lip. “His voice stopped. When you called my name.”

“Probably because the bastard realized you were here and that you could track him.”

Yes, but how had a shifter known that?

Colin raised his voice, calling out to the cops. “I want a lockdown on this building. Round up every single employee. Put them all in one room.”

“It might not be one of the employees,” Emily said, leaning in close to him. “Colin, the killer could be a cop.”

He swore.

“I-I need to go over every inch of this building, see if I can find him.”

He clamped his hand around her wrist. “You’re not goin’ anywhere without me, Doc.”

His gun was drawn, ready. “Now let’s go find the bastard.”

But they didn’t find him. They searched the entire station, roof to basement. Emily saw every employee, studied every cop, but she couldn’t find the killer.

The only
Other
she saw were Colin, the young charmer cop, and Jake Donnelley. And none of those men had the right magic trail to match the killer.

He’d gotten away. Somehow, he’d managed to slip past the police and escape.

Dammit.

They were back in Darla’s office. Her body had been covered by a sheet, and two men pushing a gurney were entering the room.

Emily pulled off her glasses, rubbed the bridge of her nose. She’d been so close, and that bastard had gotten away.

“Crime scenes can be hard, can’t they?”

She jerked at the soft voice, so close to her back. Emily turned around, found Smith staring at her with sympathy in her dark eyes.

“Umm, yeah, they can be.” Anything that involved a dead, bloody body automatically fell under “hard” in her book.

“I saw you run out earlier.” Smith hesitated. “Are you all right?”

Emily realized what her sudden fast and furious departure must have looked like.

The profiler couldn’t handle the crime scene.

But it wasn’t like she could tell Smith the truth. So she forced a smile. “I’m fine now.” Actually, she was furious. The murdering bastard had gotten away from her. If she’d had just a few more minutes to track him—

“My first few scenes made me sick. I mean, I’d been in medical school, and I’d seen dead bodies before.” Smith shook her head.

“But seeing a person like this, a person who fought to live just hours ago…” She sighed. “It’s hard to get used to.”

Emily wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing bodies that had been savaged like Darla’s.

“Why don’t you go on home?” Smith suggested. “It’s late, and there can’t be much else you can do here tonight.”

No, there wasn’t anything else she could do. The killer was gone, the reporter was dead, and she was left with the twisted flow of the Night Butcher’s rage sliding through her mind.

“Good idea,” she muttered. “Tell Colin I left, will you?” Cause she didn’t want to face him again just then. After they’d finished searching, he’d looked at her with…damn, had that been doubt in his eyes?

Did the man think she’d made up the story about hearing the killer?

Hell, she really did need to get out of there. Needed to clear her head.

And try to stop hearing the killer’s voice replaying in her mind.

Maybe next time I’ll try a cop.

Her hands fisted.
Maybe next time I’ll catch you first, you sonofabitch.

“Hey, Gyth! There’s a guy here who says he has to talk to you.”

Colin glanced up from Darla’s desk. Saw Jake Donnelley peering over a uniform’s shoulder.

“Who’s that?” Brooks asked, straightening to better study him.

“Darla’s cameraman.”

“Think he knows something?”

“One way to find out.” He shoved to his feet, stalked over to meet the demon.

“W-we need to talk.” Jake was sweating.

“Sure.” Colin stepped into the hallway. The area had cleared out a lot in the last hour. Even as he spoke, Darla’s body was wheeled out.

Jake looked at the body bag, gulped, then hurriedly glanced away.

“What do you know, Donnelley? Did you see something? The killer?” If only he could be that lucky.

Jake shook his head. “Didn’t see anything. But you need to know—” He broke off as a female cop passed them. Lowering his voice, he continued, “You need to know what Darla was working on.”

“Oh?” His interest was caught but he played it cool and easy. “And what story was she investigating?”

Jake met his gaze. “Dr. Drake.”

Do you still see demons?
Colin kept his face expressionless. “What about her?”

“Darla found out that Dr. Drake was sent to one of them psych wards when she was a kid.”

I never said I worked there.

Shit. “She was going to run the story, wasn’t she?”

Jake nodded.

“And is this the only story Darla was working on?” Please, let there be something else.

“Other than the robbery at Southern Bank, yeah.”

Not good. “You told anybody else about this?”

Jake shook his head. “Not gonna either.” His face tightened. “We both know why the doctor got sent to that place. And we know she wasn’t seeing things.”

He could all too easily imagine Emily as a child, seeing demons and monsters wherever she turned. Yeah, he knew why she’d wound up at Serenity Woods.

“All right, Donnelley. Thanks for the tip.”

The cameraman shuffled off down the hallway.

Colin watched him for a moment, then turned back to the crime scene. He needed to find Emily. His gaze searched the room.

Where is she?

“Hey!” Brooks stepped forward. “What’d the guy have to say?”

Colin shrugged. “Nothing really.” He met his partner’s stare straight on. Lying wasn’t hard for him. He’d been doing it his whole life. “Just that Darla was working on a bank robbery story before she was killed.”

“Really?” Brooks’s eyes narrowed. “That was all he said?”

“Yeah.” Emily wasn’t in the room. “Where’s Dr. Drake?”

Smith brushed by him, paused. “She left about twenty minutes ago. Said she’d check in at the station tomorrow.”

His stomach clenched. It was okay. The doc knew how to take care of herself. So she’d gone home alone. No big deal.

Except he was sure someone had been watching her house. Watching her.

And she’d just tapped into a killer’s mind.

Probably no need to worry—
ah, bullshit.
“Can you finish things here?” he asked Brooks.

“Uh, yeah. There are just a few more interviews—”

“Good.” The word had barely passed his lips before he marched out of the room, moving faster, faster with each step.

His gut was tight, and his instincts were screaming at him.

Something was wrong. He had to get to Emily.

All of the lights were out. Emily sat in her car, staring up at her house. She’d left the light in the den on; she always did. But the house was dark.
Too dark.