Authors: Paige Tyler
Following the shifter’s trail, Clayne jumped to the other roof while Danica waited on the roof of the warehouse. It was one hell of a jump. The shifter he was after was ballsy, that was for sure.
He followed the trail down to the street, but the killer’s scent disappeared within a block. He growled in frustration. What the hell good was his keen sense of smell if he couldn’t track someone when they got in a car?
Swearing under his breath, he took the stairs two at a time to get back up to the roof, then leaped across to the warehouse where Danica was waiting impatiently.
“He must have gotten into a car,” Clayne told her. “Not surprising. The only thing I can’t understand is why the killer came back after he dumped the body.”
“What do you mean, came back?”
“The scent up on the catwalk is six or eight hours fresher than the scent down by the body.”
Danica frowned. “Maybe he was the one who called 9-1-1. Maybe he was watching to make sure someone found the body.”
“Maybe,” Clayne agreed.
It seemed risky, though. Hopefully, it meant they were dealing with an idiot who’d make a mistake. But Clayne didn’t think so. Whoever this shifter was, he was smart enough not to have slipped up yet. Then again, he hadn’t had his own kind hunting him.
Moretti was waiting for them downstairs with an impatient look on his face. “Where’d you two go?”
“Clayne wanted to check out the roof,” Danica told him.
Her partner frowned, but then shook his head. “Forget it. I don’t even want to know. If you’re done wandering around, Agent Buchanan, we can head over to the coroner’s office. He’s waiting for us.”
So let him wait.
Considering this was the same coroner who’d said the first three victims were attacked by an animal, they weren’t likely to learn anything from him anyway. But there was a hell of a lot Clayne could learn from taking a look at the body of the most recent victim, so he nodded.
The coroner was a short, heavyset man with a bushy mustache and a stutter that became more pronounced when he set eyes on Clayne.
“This ain’t a damn p-petting zoo, you know,” he said after Danica told him they were there to see the body that had been brought in that morning.
Muttering something even Clayne’s ears couldn’t make sense of, he waddled over to the wall of refrigerator units, opened the one marked Robbins, then pulled out the stainless-steel table and yanked back the sheet covering the body.
Danica said Robbins had been at the gym when the killer grabbed him, but Clayne hadn’t expected him to be in such seriously good shape. Why the hell would a shifter go after a guy who could fight back?
“Can you give us a minute?” Danica asked the coroner.
The man waved his hand. “Take all the time you need. I got paperwork to finish up anyway.”
She waited until he was out of earshot, then reached down and lifted the victim’s upper lip with a gloved finger. The right canine tooth was gone.
“We kept this out of all the briefings and reports, but the killer likes to take a trophy. The same tooth is missing on every victim.”
Weird, but it wasn’t unheard of for a serial killer to take a trophy. Beyond the slashes and gouge marks that could be contributed directly to shifter claws, there were dozens of shallow scratches all over the victim. Clayne turned the man on his side so he could take a look at the back of the body. There was a horizontal slash behind the left knee. It was deep, too—damn near to the bone. The guy had been freaking hamstrung.
“He was hunted,” Clayne said.
Moretti frowned. “What do you mean, hunted?”
“These scratches are the kind you get from thorns and branches when you’re running for your life through the underbrush.” Clayne pointed to the jagged claw marks. “These are from the killer. See how he struck different places on the victim’s body? Chest, upper back, lower back, arms, thighs, stomach? They would have hurt like hell, but they aren’t nearly deep enough to be fatal. The killer was playing with the victim, hitting him fast and hard, then slipping away to come back from another direction. He wanted the victim to run so it’d make the hunt more interesting.”
Moretti made a face. “That’s sick. How the hell could a person hunt another human being like this?”
“The killer played with Robbins for a while, but at some point he got bored with the game,” Clayne said instead. “That was when the killer sliced through the guy’s hamstring. Robbins wouldn’t have been able to do more than crawl after that. That was when the murderer came in for the kill and tore out his throat.”
“But what the hell did he tear it out with?” Moretti wondered.
Clayne saw Danica give him a warning look. She should know to give him more freaking credit than that.
“Something sharp,” he said.
Moretti sighed. “Okay, so what does all this tell us?”
“At this point, not much,” Clayne admitted. “We can have the coroner look at the previous victims, but I’m assuming they’ll all bear wounds that support the hunting angle. All we know for sure is that the killer is fast. And that this is a game to him. A game he’s damn good at playing. Which means one thing for sure.”
“What’s that?” Danica asked warily.
“That we’d better work fast. Because if the killer doesn’t already have his next victim, he soon will. The adrenaline rush from a good hunt is like nothing else, but it goes away fast. This guy will be looking to hunt again—soon.”
* * *
Danica couldn’t overcome the emptiness she felt as Clayne drove off in his rental car. When they’d first gotten back to the FBI offices, she’d had this crazy urge to ask him to grab something to eat, but she knew that would only make things harder for both of them.
“Your invitation for dinner still open?” she asked Tony as the taillights of Clayne’s car disappeared around the corner. It was late and his wife probably didn’t feel like having company, but Danica didn’t want to go home to her tiny apartment just yet. She’d only end up thinking about Clayne.
“Definitely.” Tony pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Beth and tell her you’re coming.”
“Tell her not go to any trouble,” Danica said.
“I’m sure she’ll just grab a couple pies from Masullo’s or something.”
Danica doubted that. Beth Moretti was a classically trained chef with a very successful catering company. If she knew Beth, her friend would have a four-course meal waiting for them by the time they got there. While it was guaranteed to taste amazing, Danica’d almost certainly have to go for an extra-long run afterward just to work off all the calories. It’d be worth it, though. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was going to get much sleep tonight anyway with Clayne prowling through her psyche.
She was right. Beth had cooked a big Italian dinner. The mouthwatering aroma of garlic and oregano hit her the moment she walked through the door. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the soup and sandwich she’d had for lunch almost eight hours ago. She groaned softly when she thought of all those extra calories again, but she never could say no to Beth’s food.
Her blond friend hurried over and hugged her like she hadn’t seen her in ages even though Danica ate dinner at their house at least once a week. Danica felt a little guilty for taking advantage of their hospitality, but if it weren’t for Beth, she’d never eat a home-cooked meal. That wasn’t her fault—the oven in her apartment didn’t work. Even if it did, she hated cooking for one person.
“Go wash up,” Beth said. “The chicken parmesan is just about done.”
Danica took her time in the guest bathroom, giving Tony time to say hello to his wife in private. While Beth might be outgoing and bubbly, Tony was reserved to the extreme. The only time Danica could remember seeing him kiss his wife in public was at their wedding.
By the time she walked into the dining room, the parmesan was out of the oven and Beth had drizzled the salad with Danica’s favorite dressing.
“Beth, you didn’t have to do all this,” Danica admonished as she sat down.
Her friend waved her hand dismissively. “It was nothing. I had some leftovers from the bridal shower I catered today. If we don’t eat it, I’d have to throw it away.”
Danica didn’t believe her, but didn’t call her bubbly friend on it. Instead, she took a bite of salad and sighed. Beth wouldn’t tell her what was in the homemade dressing, which only made it that much better.
“I don’t know how you stay so fit, Tony,” she said as she speared a tomato. “If I ate like this every night, I’d be as big as a house.”
Beth laughed and gave her a wink. “I make sure Tony gets plenty of exercise before we go to bed. Sometimes twice on Saturdays.”
Her partner flushed and ducked his head, examining his salad like it was evidence at a crime scene. Danica shook her head. Reserved didn’t even begin to cover it.
Beth handed Danica a bowl of freshly grated parmesan cheese. “So, fill me in on this new case you two are working.”
Danica almost laughed when Tony sagged with relief. Serial murders weren’t exactly dinner conversation, but her partner obviously preferred talking about that to his sex life. He avoided the gory details of the investigation, but told his wife about everything else, including what a jerk Special Agent Carhart was. Thankfully, he left Clayne out of it.
The pasta stuck in her throat at the thought of her ex, and she gulped some water. It was hard being around him and pretending she didn’t care. While she’d walked out on him for all the right reasons, not loving him hadn’t been one of them. It had been two extremely long years. Her feelings should have subsided. But if anything, they were even stronger. She didn’t know how the heck she was going to keep it together long enough to deal with this serial killer. But she had to. She couldn’t risk slipping up, even once.
“Danica, honey,” Beth said. “Don’t you like the chicken parm?”
Danica looked down and realized she’d been pushing her chicken around the plate without eating it. “Oh no, it’s great. I was just thinking about the case.”
Across from her, Tony snorted. “More like thinking about your ex-partner.” He glanced at his wife. “DHS sent him to help out with the investigation.”
Beth’s eyes went wide. “Clayne is here?”
Danica could have smacked Tony. While she hadn’t told him much about Clayne—nothing really—she’d told Beth plenty, except the real reason she’d broken up with him, of course. And from the way her friend’s blue eyes were twinkling, she wasn’t going to let something this juicy go until Danica told her everything.
“It still doesn’t make sense.” Tony helped himself to another piece of chicken. “I know what Clayne said to Carhart, but why the hell would Homeland send him to help catch a serial killer? Don’t get me wrong, he seems like a sharp guy. The way he came up with the hunting angle was damn impressive. But you have to admit, he’s kind of strange. All that time he spent checking out those blood stains? I swear he was sniffing them. He’s a freak, if you ask me.”
“He’s not a freak,” Danica said sharply. “He just approaches situations from a completely different angle than the rest of us. And he’s damn good when he does it.”
She hadn’t realized she’d raised her voice until she saw Tony staring at her from across the table, a forkful of chicken halfway to his mouth.
“Tony, honey,” Beth said quietly. “I have three soufflés in the warming oven. Could you heat up the chocolate sauce that’s in the fridge?”
Tony stared at her, then looked down at his plate. “I’m not finished eating.”
Beth smiled. “Take your plate with you. That way you can eat while you stir.”
He made a face. “You know I suck at that stuff.”
“Keep the flame turned down and you’ll be fine,” she said. “Just remember to stir it continuously or it’ll scald.”
Tony sighed but picked up his plate and stood. “Okay, babe. Three soufflés with chocolate sauce, coming up. I’m sure you two can come up with something to talk about while I’m in the kitchen.”
Danica actually felt a little bad Tony had been relegated to KP duty. But that was what he got for spilling his partner’s secrets.
The moment Tony was out of earshot, Beth turned to her. “So, how does he look?”
Danica stabbed fiercely at a piece of chicken and stuffed it in her mouth. “How does who look?”
“Your ex, you dummy! Who did you think I was talking about?”
Danica shoved another piece of chicken in her mouth, mumbling around it. “I knew who you were talking about.”
“And?”
Danica hoped Tony was having a really hard time in there with that chocolate sauce. “Unfortunately, Clayne looks good. Better than good, actually. In fact, he looks like a six-foot-six ripped Adonis crossed with that actor who played in the remake of that barbarian movie.”
“I know who you’re talking about, and damn.” Beth frowned. “So, what’s unfortunate about that?”
Danica put down her fork and flung herself back in the chair, arms folded. “Call me shallow, but a woman likes to think a man might have a hard time moving on when she walks out on him. But Clayne looks better now than he did when we were together. And believe me, he looked amazing back then.”
“Honey, it’s not shallow at all. In fact, it’s completely understandable.” Beth sipped her water. “So, does he still have a thing for you like you do for him?”
Damn, did her friend know how to get down to the brass tacks or what? “I don’t still have a thing for him.”
Beth lifted a brow.
“Okay, maybe I do,” Danica muttered. “But as for him, that would be a big hell no. He hates the idea of working with me, much less being in the same room with me.”
And God, did that hurt.
“Well, you did break up with him, you know.”
Danica frowned at the reminder. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Because Homeland Security has some stupid policy about partners not hooking up, right? You’re not his partner anymore. If you and Clayne want to rekindle the flame, what’s stopping you?”
The part that Beth knew nothing about, that’s what. And Danica couldn’t explain it to her. As far as she knew, Danica had broken up with Clayne because she hadn’t wanted to jeopardize her career.
“Did you miss the part where I said Clayne looks at me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of his shoe?”