Chapter Seventeen
“What do you feel?” Rick asked when we stepped into the house.
I stood with my eyes closed, pulling in the scent of blood, thick and meaty, and the emptiness of life in the house.
“It’s fresh,” I told him, opening my eyes. “You already called this in?”
He nodded. “People are coming.”
“Let’s see the body, then, so I can get out of here and let them work.”
But before we could take more than a couple of steps, two uniformed patrol officers stepped into the house. Rick gave them a nod. “Kait, this is Paul Dexter and Jeremy Hill.” Then to the officers, “You know Kait Silver,” he told them.
Hill was a stocky man an inch or so shorter than me, his hair in a buzz cut and his eyes quick and friendly. Paul Dexter was maybe six feet tall, a little grim, and I could already tell that he was the more assertive of the two.
“Detective,” Paul said, his glance flicking over me and then away. He would rather I wasn’t there, but he wasn’t going to fight it.
“A body in the main bedroom,” Rick told them, pointing in the direction of the room. Then, “Main floor is quiet, but I haven’t cleared the upstairs or the basement.”
That tightened both officers up. Hill brushed his holstered weapon. “You want us to sweep?”
“Yeah,” Rick said, but Paul Dexter was already moving through the living room. “Stay out of the main bedroom. I need the scene clean.”
What he meant was he didn’t want them muddying up any scents or feelings I might get in there.
“Yes, sir,” Hill said.
Dexter said nothing as he walked on. Seconds later I heard them taking the stairs to the upper floor. Rick and I headed for the bedroom to check out the body.
The homicide detectives would arrive soon, and though they knew I had clearance to be there, they were still going to be pissy about it. They always were.
The closer I got to the bedroom, the thicker the scent of blood and death became. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t walked into dozens of times before, and I wasn’t shocked by the smells, the sights, or the violence.
“What’s wrong?” Rick asked when I paused just inside the room.
“Wait,” I murmured. I was trying to get hold of something, something that was teasingly just out of reach. I closed my eyes and when I swayed, a little dizzy, Rick was behind me. He grasped my upper arms and held me steady but didn’t speak.
I opened my eyes abruptly and turned toward him. “The women, Rick. The two murdered women you’re investigating.”
His lips tightened and his eyes darkened, but he didn’t say what I knew he wanted to say. That he believed Sam had killed them.
I smiled, and he frowned harder. “What about them?” he asked.
“The same person who killed those two women murdered this man, and it wasn’t Sam. You’ll find a connection if you look hard enough. I feel the same energy.” I lifted my nose to the air. “My wolf smells the bastard.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“It wasn’t Sam, Rick. We have another serial killer on our hands, but it’s not Sam.”
He stepped away from me, immediately angry. “Are you going to protect this one, too?”
I couldn’t help but flinch.
“Kait.” He held out his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
I shook my head and gave him a smile that I knew didn’t get anywhere near my eyes.
“No, it’s fine.” I didn’t say anything else.
There wasn’t anything to say, really. I got as close as I dared to the body, and for a few minutes, I stared down at him, unmoving.
Rick just watched me and waited quietly.
The victim was on his back in the middle of the bed, his face turned toward the door as though he’d heard something in the last second and turned to look.
His mouth was slack, his swollen eyes half closed.
There was blood…everywhere. The sheets, messy and half hanging onto the floor, were red with it.
He’d been slashed, the cuts sweeping across every part of his body that I could see.
“You can see the rage,” I said finally.
“Yes,” he agreed. “And because we’ve discovered three victims in a week…”
“He’s escalating,” I finished. “He’s getting sloppy.” I took a deep breath, then regretted it immediately. My wolf was sensitive to smells, and I could feel her pacing, uncomfortable. She wanted out. “But why are we just now finding his victims?”
“He could be new to Jakeston,” Rick told me. “Or there could be other murders we simply haven’t connected to him yet. People are murdered every day.”
“Why would someone murder two women, then come here and kill a man? That’s not the usual serial killer MO, is it?”
“The world is full of equal opportunity killers. Do you see or feel anything else?”
“I’m beginning to think this is the work of a human. Not just because I can’t get a scent of magic, or wolf, or even demon, really, but because if he were supernatural, I doubt he’d be using a blade to kill his victims.”
“Could it be claws instead of a knife?” he asked.
“No,” I told him. “Claws would have torn. The edges would be ragged, deeper in some places, shallow in others. He used a blade.” Then I thought of my own blade, and Anika Draper’s blade.
“Maybe he used it because it’s a special blade.
So he could be supernatural. I’m just not sure.
Not yet. Whatever he’s getting from these kills, maybe the blade demands it. ”
“You say that like a knife is alive.”
“Sometimes,” I said, “our weapons are closer to living than the vampires are.”
He muttered something I didn’t catch.
I frowned. “What’s bothering you, Rick? You’ve been extra…angry today.”
He blew out a hard breath and rubbed his temples. “Beth has been in contact. After all this time, she’s reaching out, and I don’t know what to say to her.”
I didn’t want to pry, but I was curious. “Is she…I mean, does she want…?”
“She’s not asking for a divorce,” he said. “She’s not asking for anything, really. I think she might want to come home.” His stare met mine. “To try again.”
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the fact that his words made me feel something close to panic. Dread. And yeah, there was some jealousy in the mix. I didn’t look away from him, as much as I wanted to. “What do you want?” I asked him.
He opened his mouth to tell me at the exact same moment a car door slammed outside, and Paul Dexter appeared in the bedroom doorway. “House is clear,” he said, “and homicide is here.”
So whatever Rick wanted would remain a mystery.
For now.
“I’ll go talk with the detectives,” Rick said.
I nodded. “I’ll come back once the body is gone and have another look.”
“I’ll let you know when it’s clear.” He took my arm, not in a guiding way, but in a way that said he simply wanted the contact.
“You should go to Silverwood and get some rest,” he said as we walked across the floor.
“You’re not fully recovered from your fight with Voss.
” And when he said Voss’s name, there was a gleam in his eyes, because he was enjoying the fact that Jared had gone after him and likely Voss was dead by now.
Rick had changed.
“I’d rather work,” I told him. “The last thing I want is quiet time to dwell on the loss of my magic.”
“You are magic,” he said, giving me a rare smile. “And you will always find your way.”
I returned his smile, and for a few seconds, we simply stood there like that, relaxed and happy with tender regard and a bond that would never break. Rick and I had been through a lot together.
And the memory of that kiss lingered.
Finally, though, the detectives entered the house, stopping to speak with the two patrol officers.
The reality of a dark life crept back in, and our smiles faded.
Rick stepped away first, sliding his hands into his pockets.
With a reluctant sigh, I turned and left him standing there, hoping he was right—that even without my magic, I’d still find my way.