Hotter After Midnight (27 page)

“Look, kid, I’m not—”

“Kill the demon! Have to kill her!”
He lunged forward in a blur of motion, his arms raised.

Emily heard a guttural shout from behind her. And then the boy barreled into her, sending her flying to the ground. He landed on top of her, and his fingers locked around her throat.
Hell, not again
.

“Have to destroy the demon. She’s evil. Destroy—”

Colin grabbed the kid and jerked him off her, shoving him back up against the wall. “You just made a serious fucking mistake.”

The kid raised his arms, tried to use his cuffs to hit Colin. Colin growled and hit him in the stomach, driving the air from the boy’s lungs in a loud
whoosh.
Then he pulled back his fist and drove it into the boy’s nose. Bones cracked. Blood shot down the perp’s face.

Colin raised his fist back, bared his teeth.

The boy began to whimper. His body slid down to the floor and he wrapped his arms around his stomach, rocking back and forth.

Colin grabbed him by the collar and—

“Stop!” Emily ordered, pushing to her knees. Something about that kid—something was very, very wrong. “He’s not going to attack again.”

“Damn right he’s not.” Colin turned his furious stare onto the uniform. “What the fuck were you doing? Don’t you know how to secure a perp?”

The cop gulped, muttering apologies as he reached for the boy.

“Get him out of here,
now!
”

Emily stared down at the boy. “What’s your name?”

He shook his head, whispered, “Demon.”

The uniform pulled him to his feet. “Come on, Trace. Fun’s over.”

The boy went forward obediently, but he kept looking back at Emily, a frightened, lost look on his face.

“Well…” Brooks murmured, eyeing Emily with a hint of wariness. “Guess you aren’t the only one preoccupied with demons, huh?”

“The killer wants the world to know what he is.” Emily sat in the chair across from McNeal’s desk. Colin sat beside her, and she could feel his intent stare on her.

He hadn’t spoken with her since the attack.
But if looks could kill…

Damn. She’d been the one to get choked. She would have thought the guy could have shown more sympathy.

Colin wasn’t feeling particularly sympathetic. She knew that. Could feel that. His rage practically filled the room.

She’d taken a few minutes to regain her composure after the attack. She’d retreated to the restroom. Discovered that she had red fingerprints on her neck. Her voice was scratchy, and the new suit jacket she’d purchased that morning had been ripped.

Actually, she’d had to buy a whole new wardrobe that morning. Thanks to the boy, Trace, all of her old clothes had been slashed.

And so far, things weren’t looking up for her new items.

“Are you saying the Night Bastard wants to get caught?” McNeal asked, leaning forward.

His question jerked Emily back to the matter at hand.
The Night Butcher,
or, as McNeal liked to call him, the Night Bastard.

She’d been working on his profile, updating it with information she’d garnered at the crime scene last night. “No, I didn’t say he wants to get caught. I said he wants people to find out what he is. He wants the humans to know about him, and to fear him.”

“He wants them to know he’s a shifter,” Colin muttered. “And that’s why he’s killing in his animal form?”

She nodded. “I think so. I also think he’s choosing human victims who are high profile to get more attention. Preston Myers was rich, high society. His murder was bound to go straight to the front page. Darla—”

“Was a hotshot reporter,” Colin finished. “Course her killing would make every broadcast and paper in the state.”

“This guy—he’s tired of hiding what he is. He wants the world to know about him. About all the
Other.
And I think he’ll kill as many humans as it takes to get his message out there.”

“Shit.” McNeal’s gaze darted to his shredder. “He’s deliberately leaving evidence for us, isn’t he? Evidence that proves he’s not human.”

“Yeah, I think he is.”

“Why?” McNeal’s fist hit the desk. “Coming out like this will just make humans terrified. They’ll fear him, hate him, hate all of us.”

“He doesn’t care,” she told him softly. “This guy—he thinks he’s all powerful. He’s gotten a taste for the killing.”
Her blood tasted
good.
“There’s something else you should both know.” She took a deep breath. “I think the next victim—it’s going to be a cop.”

“Fuck.” From Gyth.

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Because he told me.”
Maybe I’ll do one of them next. Oh yeah, that’d be good.
“He was at the television station last night. I-I felt him. Managed to get close enough to touch his thoughts.” But the killer had gotten away.

So close.

“A cop.” McNeal squeezed his eyes shut. “Christ. Yeah, that would definitely get the asshole more attention. He’d make the national news then. A fucking werewolf killing cops. Shit.”

Would cops taste different? Would they try to fight more?
“It’s going to be a woman,” Emily said, wanting to give them all the information she had. “He…ah…likes the way women taste better.”

Colin tensed.

“Shit!”
McNeal lunged to his feet. “I want this bastard off the streets. I don’t want to play any more of his fucking games.”

But there wasn’t much of a choice.

McNeal frowned at Colin. “Put everyone on alert. Let ’em know this crazy SOB is out there, gunning for one of our own.”

Colin nodded, rose from his seat.

“I don’t want a bloodbath in my city,” McNeal snarled. “And I sure as hell don’t want to see a cop with her throat ripped out on the six o’clock news.”

But if the Night Butcher wasn’t caught, Emily knew that was exactly what would happen.

A hard knock sounded at the door. Brooks popped his head inside, not waiting for an invitation. “I’ve got some news you’ve all got to hear.” He stepped forward, gripping a white piece of paper in his hands. “Guess whose prints just matched up with the unknowns we found at Gillian Nemont’s?”

Emily’s stomach knotted. Gillian was a demon.
Have to destroy the demon. She’s evil.

“Sonofabitch.” Colin shook his head slowly. “The kid.”

Brooks handed him the printout. “Bryan Trace. Runaway. High school dropout. Demon hunter.” His lips twisted at the last. “That’s what he told me he was, by the way. When the doctor was patching up his nose, he told me he was used to pain. Demon hunters have to be, of course.”

Emily rubbed her temple. “I don’t understand what’s going on! Why would this guy target me? It makes no sense!” Unless…Emily straightened her shoulders. Unless the guy knew that some of her patients were
Other
and he’d thought that she was too.

“It gets better,” Brooks murmured. “I’ve got a security tape of the guy going into the News Flash Five station yesterday afternoon.”

The kid was connected to all the murders. But…“He’s not the Butcher,” Emily said very definitely. Yes, the evidence was starting to mount, but it wasn’t Trace.

The boy was human. She hadn’t sensed anything supernatural about him.

Just an angry, confused,
dangerous
human.

Brooks shook his head. “It could be him,” he argued. “He trashed Nemont’s place. That links him to Myers. If we canvas the neighborhood, we might even find someone who remembers seeing him at Preston’s place before the murder.”

“You might,” Emily said, “but I’m telling you,
this kid isn’t the Night Butcher.
”

“Umm…” McNeal shot her a searching glance. “Doc, you sure about this?”

She nodded.

“If the kid didn’t do it,” Colin said, glancing up from the printout, “I think he knows who did.”

Now that she couldn’t argue with.

“There are too many coincidences here,” he continued. “And they make me damn suspicious.”

“Me too.” McNeal studied them in silence for a moment, then said, “Get him into Interrogation. Find out what the hell he knows.”

Colin and Brooks strode toward the door.

“Ah, Captain?” She wasn’t about to let this chance pass. “I think I can help here.”

Colin swung around, eyes narrowed.

McNeal arched a brow. “You want in with him, don’t you?”

She nodded.

McNeal rubbed a hand over his bare scalp. “It’s risky, sending you in. His lawyer will have a field day with it since you’re one of his victims.”

“She shouldn’t go in,” Colin snapped. “The guy just attacked her. Emily doesn’t need to be anywhere near him!”

“I won’t get too close,” she promised, not looking at Colin. Dammit, this was her case too. If he’d been attacked, she knew Colin would have gone right back in with the perp. “Look, McNeal, the guy needs help. His mind—” Was twisted, confused. She bit her lip, muttered, “I don’t think they’re going to be able to get to him. But I can.” She knew it. If she could just get the chance.

“Observe first. And then—”

“Captain, no!”

McNeal glared at Colin. “My rules here, Gyth. Not yours. We may need the doctor on this one. She’ll observe the interrogation with me, and if I think we need her, I’ll send her in.”

Emily finally glanced toward Colin. Found him watching her with a burning stare.

“Do we have a problem, Gyth?” McNeal asked.

“No, not yet.” A muscle flexed along his jaw. “But if that bastard tries to touch her again, you might have a dead man on your hands.”

“Bryan Trace…” Brooks drawled out his name and flashed a friendly smile. “Did the doctor get you all patched up?”

The boy nodded jerkily.

His lawyer leaned forward, cast a menacing glance toward Colin. “We will be filing assault charges.”

“Umm, you try doing that.” Colin didn’t seem particularly concerned as he reached for a stack of photos. “I’ve got a station full of officers who saw the guy attack Dr. Drake. I was doing my job and subduing him.”

“Your ‘subduing’ technique broke his nose and bruised his ribs.”

“Umm.” Again, little concern. Colin stared down at the photos. “He was out of control. I did what I had to do.”

Yes, and Emily knew he’d do it again, in a heartbeat.
Her hands curled in front of her as she stared through the two-way mirror.

“But if you wanna try to press charges…” He shrugged. “It’ll be your wasted hours.”

Emily looked back at McNeal. “Could the assault charges stick?”

“Nah. Too many cops for witnesses.”

Brooks straddled the chair closest to the boy. “Bryan, I need to ask you a few questions.” Light, easy tone.

“O-okay.”

“Were you acquainted with a Preston Myers?”

Bryan flinched.

“Umm, Bryan, did you hear my question?”

The boy stared down at his cuffed hands. “Didn’t know him.”

“But you’d been to his house before, right, Bryan?” Colin asked, his voice snapping like a whip. “The neighbors saw you, said that you’d been hanging around, hiding in bushes like some kind of Peeping Tom.”

Another flinch.

Emily knew Colin was making up the story about the neighbors’ testimony, but judging by Bryan’s response, he was definitely on the right track.

“My client doesn’t have to—”

Bryan lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed. A wide, white bandage covered his nose. “I was there.”

“Why?” Brooks asked softly.

“He was a demon. I watch the demons, make sure they don’t hurt anyone.”

“Ah…my client is obviously suffering from delusions. His mental capacity isn’t strong enough for these questions—”

“
Shut up!”
Bryan screamed, lunging to his feet. “I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy!”

Colin locked one hand on his shoulder, shoved him back down.

James pulled his chair back a few feet. “Uh, I think we should stop—”

“
Shut the fuck up!
You don’t know what’s going on here. It’s a war, man.
A war
.” Bryan curled his lip at the attorney, spat, “I don’t need you. I’ll say what I want. These guys can’t do anything to me. I’m a Hunter.” He jerked his thumb toward his chest.

“
I’m the law.
”

McNeal stepped beside her, whistling softly. “The kid really was stalking Myers.”

And Gillian Nemont. And her.

“I take it you’re waiving your right to your attorney’s advice?” Brooks murmured, glancing down at his nails.

“Hell, yes!” Bryan suddenly seemed energized, eyes glowing, head tilted proudly, body humming with excitement. “I don’t need a dumb suit trying to tell me what to say.”

“Your funeral, kid,” James murmured, and sat back.

“So…” Colin tapped the photos against the tabletop. “You admit to stalking Preston Myers.”

“I was
demon hunting.
”

“And were you also hunting Gillian Nemont?”

Bryan smiled. “Saw what I did to her place, didn’t you?”

I’ll take that as a yes,
Emily thought.

“And Dr. Drake? You been hunting her too?” Colin’s voice was razor sharp.

Bryan just smirked. “Almost caught her.”

Colin’s left hand balled into a fist. “Did you now?”

“Bitch got away from me.” His lips thinned. “Kicked me in the balls. Fought like a hellcat.” He laughed then, a high-pitched, almost girlish sound. “Course that’s what she is, right?”

“Umm…” Colin glanced down at the photos. His jaw was clenched tight. “And Darla Mitchell? Were you hunting her?”

“The bitch thought she could go on TV, could hide what she was and laugh at us stupid humans.” He shook his head. “But I knew what she was.
I knew!
”

“So you admit to hunting her.” Colin slid a photograph across the table. “Did you kill her too?”

Bryan stared down at the photo. The color drained from his face. “
What the fuck!
”

“Look at it,” Colin snarled. “You see the blood? You see her face? Her throat was ripped out, clawed out—and she died in a pool of her own blood.”

Bryan’s eyes had doubled in size. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared at the photo.

“He had no idea what the body looked like,” Emily whispered.
Because he hadn’t been there for the kill.

“She wasn’t a demon,” Brooks told him, tapping his fingers against the photo. “She was human, just like you and me. And she screamed and she bled, and she died.”