CHAPTER Sixteen

Monica Davenport kept her shoulders back and her pace slow and steady as she walked toward the hotel off Highway 180.

If there was anything she’d learned in her life, it was that you could never be too careful. Someone was always watching. Always.

Her hand was rock steady as she slid the keycard into the lock. The light flashed green. She walked inside. Dark. Just the faintest hint of sunlight fell through the blinds.

The bathroom door opened and spilled light into the room. Wisps of steam drifted into the air, and he was there. Chest wet, muscles gleaming, a white towel knotted around his waist.

When he saw her, he tensed and his eyes narrowed. “Monica? What happened?”

She dropped her bag and kicked the door closed. Shaking her head, Monica went to him. She didn’t give a damn about her clothes getting wet when she wrapped her arms around him and held tight. She just needed him. “We found Bob Kyle.” So Luke wasn’t officially working the case. He still knew every detail. Luke had made a point of knowing every detail.

His arms closed around her. “How bad?”

She took a quick breath. “One of the worst I’ve seen.” Holding it together, staring at that body, guiding the crime techs—so hard. She’d just wanted to turn away. To close her eyes and pretend that she didn’t see him.

She was in the FBI to stop shit like that. Seeing it made her gut clenched. “He was sick. He didn’t deserve… hell, he couldn’t even tell us what Phoenix looked like.” Kyle had needed help.

He’d gotten—no, she didn’t want to think about what he’d gotten.

Luke’s fingers came up under her chin, and he gently tipped back her head. “How did Phoenix get to him?”

She licked her lips. “He—Kyle ran from the safe house.” Because the demons had driven him out. Going back on the meds, the new environment, the cops around him—it had been too much for him. He’d broken. She’d worried he would. Just hours before, she’d been talking to his VA doc in an attempt to get more help for Bob. “I think Phoenix must have been watching. He followed him.” Phoenix found the perfect deserted spot, and he cut Bob’s throat so the guy couldn’t scream. Then Phoenix torched him.

How long had it taken Kyle to die?

Please not too long.

“The guy didn’t even fit his pattern.” Her gaze held his. “Kyle hadn’t broken any laws. Hadn’t hurt anyone.”

No, he hadn’t.

“His crime was being in the wrong place.” Hardly something worth dying for. Her lips trembled, a tremble she’d never allow outside, in front of the others.

She was the cold one. Ice. The Bitch.

She could take the cases, take on the killers, and not flinch.

On the outside.

But with Luke, here, just the two of them, she didn’t have to pretend. He was the only one to see past the mask.

He’d always seen.

Monica rose onto her toes and caught the back of his head with her hands. She kissed him, hard and deep, as she crushed her mouth to his.

His hands tightened on her. His body pressed against her. Every solid, strong inch reminded her that he was there. Real.

And she wasn’t alone with the monsters anymore.

But the stench of death was on her, and she didn’t want it coming between them.

Monica eased back and took a quick breath. “I need to—”

His eyes were so deep. “Let’s wash it away.”

Because he knew her.

He took her hand and led her into the steam-filled bathroom. This was a trick they used after their cases. They tried to wash away the memories of death.

The trick didn’t really work, though. Nothing could wash them away. But she didn’t like touching him when death had been so close to her hands.

Luke twisted the shower knob. When the water poured down, he dropped his towel.

Her fingers lifted and went to work on the buttons of her shirt.

“No, let me…” Gruff voice, gentle hands.

Carefully, so carefully, he stripped off her shirt and tossed it to the floor.

Instinct led Kenton back to Lora’s house. Yellow caution tape sectioned off the property. The sides of her white house were scorched black, and the lower windows had shattered.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see Lora flying from that fire.

And when he opened his eyes, he could see the man edging slowly around the right side of her house.

Fuck.

Kenton took out his weapon and eased under the tape. The old adage was true—some perps just had to return to their crime scenes. Some got off on seeing the pain they’d stirred, while others came back because they were afraid they’d left evidence behind.

He wondered which reason had brought Detective Peter Malone back to the scene.

Watching his step and easing carefully past the broken glass, Kenton crept up on his prey.

Malone was bent low, and his gaze locked on the bottom of the house.

Kenton aimed his gun dead center at the detective’s back. “Put your hands up, Malone. Nice and slow.”

Malone stiffened. “What the—Lake?” He started to turn around.

“Hands up! I’d hate to put a bullet in you because you didn’t listen.” Lie. Right then, putting a bullet into the guy was a big temptation.

Malone’s hands came up. He still faced the house.

“Keep ’em there.” Kenton went in fast and took the guy’s weapon. “Now turn around.”

Malone turned slowly. “What the hell is going on here, Special Agent?”

Kenton stared back at the guy. “You tell me.” He wouldn’t let the fury break through, not yet.

“I’m searching the crime scene! What the hell does it look like I’m—”

“Why haven’t you been answering your cell phone today, Malone?”

He blinked. “I don’t—” He glanced down at his waist and the phone secured to his belt. “The battery must be dead.”

Right. “Must be.”

Malone’s face flushed. “Stop pointing that damn gun at me!”

No. “Your men have been searching for you all morning.”

“For me?” His brows shot up. “Why?”

“Because you’re a person of interest in a homicide investigation.”

“Bullshit.” Malone dropped his hands.

Kenton shook his head. “You don’t want to do that.”

Those hands flew right back up. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here but—”

“Bob Kyle is dead.”

“What?”

“Kyle is dead, and your name has appeared in our investigation as a link between the victims.”

Malone didn’t speak, but his jaw fell a few inches.

“Why are you really here?” Kenton didn’t let his gaze stray to Lora’s house. “Did you come back for a souvenir?” Serials and their souvenirs—they always liked to collect keepsakes.

“Hell, no.” Rage burned in Malone’s words.

But Kenton’s hadn’t expected an instant confession. “I’m going to need you to come down to the station and answer some questions.” Actually, he’d need a lot more than that.

“You’re taking me in? You seriously think I’m a suspect here? This is bull—”

“Bullshit. Right. I got it the first time.” Kenton kept his gun up. “But bullshit or not, you’re coming in and you will answer the SSD’s questions.”

A muscle flexed along Malone’s jaw.

“And by the way, is that your truck parked down on the corner?”

Malone gave a grudging nod.

Kenton smiled, and he knew it wasn’t a pretty sight. “Thought so.”

“Yo, guys—I think you’d better come in here!” Max’s voice cut through the rattle of conversation in the conference room.

Lora glanced at Garrison. His bushy brows were pulled low, but he was already shoving back his chair and leading the way out of the room.

Everyone scrambled behind him. They hurried down the hall and crowded into the lounge, settling right in front of the big-screen TV.

Max hit the remote, and the volume screamed out.

“FBI agents are mum, but sources say this man is the latest victim of the arsonist who has made our city his playground.” Elle Shaw’s face filled the screen.

“What the hell?” Garrison demanded.

“Another one?” Lora whispered. “But we—we didn’t get the call.”

“The guy was lit. Not the scene, the guy.” Max shook his head. “We couldn’t have done a damn thing for him.”

“They said that?” Lora shoved her finger at the TV. The cameraman had panned back to show the mouth of an alley and lines of yellow tape.

“Nah… I heard the report on the scanner.” Max spent most of his time listening to the police scanner. His eyes narrowed on her. “The FBI was supposed to protect this guy, but he wound up torched.”

Garrison glanced over at her. “They’re supposed to be protecting you.”

They were protecting her. The two cops on her current watch duty were right there at the station, less than ten feet away. She rubbed her arms and stared at the screen. Torched. There weren’t many worse ways of going. That poor man. Oh, Jesus.

“We look after our own here,” Max said, his voice loud and clear, probably for the benefit of the nearby cops. “We’re sure as hell not letting anything happen to Lora.”

They protected their own. Their motto.

You always brought your man out of a fire. The team worked together. Survived together.

But when you died, you were buried alone.

Kenton tossed Malone into the first open interrogation room he found and put two uniforms on guard in front of the door.

“Where did you find him?” Sam asked, shifting a bit as she craned to see their suspect.

“Lora’s house.” His hands were clenched. Kenton took a breath and forced himself to relax. “His truck’s there, too. I want it hauled in and searched.” If there were trace amounts of accelerants in that truck, the crime techs would find them. “Get us a warrant and make sure every step is legal.”

“I’m on it.” Sam turned away and hurried down the hall.

He yanked out his phone and punched in Monica’s number. One ring. Two. Three.

Come on…

“Agent Davenport.” But that was not Davenport’s voice. Not unless she’d had one serious testosterone shot in the last few minutes.

Hell. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, but I need her.”

Silence.

“Where?”

“The station. As soon as she can get here. We’ve got Malone in Interrogation. Sam and I will be heading in, but—”

But Luke would understand.

If they wanted the suspect to break, fast, they needed Monica. No one could get into a killer’s mind like Monica.

“We’ll be there.”

He didn’t argue. This wasn’t Luke’s case, but if the guy wanted to play tag-along and watch over his lover, that was his choice. A choice Kenton respected.

Luke hung up the phone. Monica rolled toward him, a sheet around her breasts. “I told you I was going to answer it.”

He shook his head. She’d drifted to sleep, just for a moment, and then the call had woken her. “You heard everything?” Being so close, it would have been hard not to.

“Yes.”

He caught her chin and kissed her, thrusting deep with his tongue as he tasted her. They hadn’t been given nearly enough time.

His mouth lifted. “I want you to move in with me.”

Her breath caught. “Wh-what?”

I want you to move in with me. No, what he really wanted was marriage. Forever. But Monica was skittish. She’d run from him before, and he knew better than to rush her too much now.

Besides, he had a plan. The woman wasn’t the only one who knew how to profile. He’d lure her into the right spot, get her where he wanted her, and have her, forever.

“When we get back to D.C., I want you to move in with me.” No, he hadn’t told Hyde yet, and if the big boss man got pissy and had him transferred, so be it. He wanted Monica with him, in his bed and in his arms as damn often as he could get her.

“Luke…”

“Think about it.” He knew she would. The woman thought about and analyzed everything. Sometimes he didn’t even believe she really rested when she slept. Her mind was always working, maybe because if she was busy plotting and probing, then she didn’t have to look at her past.

He could understand that.

Just as he understood her.

Her head moved in a slow nod.

Luke didn’t even try to control his grin. Her hand came up and smoothed over the light scar on his cheek. Monica’s mark. His heart had been marked by her for years.

“Good, baby, but now I’m afraid we’re gonna have to haul ass.” And he did love her ass. Sweet and heart-shaped. So fine.

He kissed her shoulder and rolled away.

“Are you sure about this?” The worry in her voice stopped him and squeezed his heart.

He forced a smile. “When it comes to us, baby, I have no doubts.”

“I’ve had enough of this shit!” Peter Malone jumped to his feet as soon as Kenton and Sam entered the interrogation room. “My captain should have thrown your asses out the minute you came up with this crap—”

Kenton crossed his arms over his chest and studied the guy. Flushed face. Tousled hair. Eyes that were slits of blue fire. “If you’d told us about your relationship with the victims, maybe we wouldn’t have needed to do things this way.”

Sam headed for the corner. She didn’t usually work interrogations. Sam was more of a behind-the-scenes woman. She spent her time working with her computers, breaking into protected systems, and tracing criminals across the United States with a few keystrokes.

But Kenton wanted her there. Ramirez wouldn’t work for this one. If Malone had to face off against Kenton and Ramirez, the guy would have been too defensive. But Sam, with her soft eyes and nervous hands, well, Malone would think she was the good one.

Yeah, the good agent/bad agent game was played every day. Not just TV bullshit.

Only in this case, Sam wasn’t the good one. She was the one looking for some hard-and-fast vengeance of her own—like Lora. And if Malone was guilty, Kenton had a feeling that the guy would be seeing just how bad Sam could get.

Because unlike Monica, Sam’s control was weak, and he suspected her rage was very, very strong.

“What? Relationship?” Malone shook his head. “I didn’t have a relationship with any of them.”

Kenton tossed the files down on the table. “Really?” He flipped open Tom Hatchen’s folder. “Why didn’t you say you arrested him for domestic abuse?”

Malone’s eyes widened a bit. “Is that what this shit is about? Yeah, I arrested him, and he walked, so it didn’t make a difference. The wife changed her story, for the fifth straight time. A broken nose, broken ribs, black and blue all over, and the woman says she fell down the steps.” His hands slammed down on the table. “Do you know how many times she’s fallen in the last two years?”

Real fury burned in Malone’s voice. Because he was a cop who was tired of seeing a victim hurt? Or more? “Guess she doesn’t have to worry about falling anymore,” Kenton said.

Hit. He saw that on Malone’s face.

Kenton flipped through another folder. “And when we had Larry Powell right here in front of us, in this very room, you never mentioned that the two of you had… well, brushed paths before.”

“ ’Cause we didn’t—”

“Seven years ago, you were working the Narcotics division.”

“So?”

“You busted him then.” Kenton raised his brows. “How much did it piss you off when he was on the streets again just a few months later?”

The hands on the table balled into fists. “I don’t even remember that! Man, do you know how many drugheads I arrested back then? There’s no way to keep track of them all, not after all this time!”

Maybe. And if it had just been one link, Kenton probably would have let it pass, but—

“How do you explain Charlie Skofield?” Sam asked quietly.

“Who? Skofield?” Malone shook his head. “No, no way! You’ve got this wrong—”

“Do I?” Kenton let the doubt roll in his voice.

Malone’s fists pounded onto the table top. “I’m a cop! Not a damn criminal!”

Kenton crossed his arms and waited.

“Does Lora know what you’re doing? What you’re thinking?”

It’s not him. Her voice drifted through his mind. So sure. So very certain. But she didn’t understand. Sometimes it was really hard to see evil. Especially when it hid behind a friend’s smile and stared you right in the face.

Malone’s right hand lifted, and his index finger pointed toward the two-way mirror. “My captain’s in there, watching, isn’t he?” He heaved out a hard breath. “He’s pissed because I kept working this case. I didn’t get his permission so he’s letting you have a go at me. But I’m not a criminal, dammit! I didn’t set those fires!”

Kenton lifted a brow. “I never said you did.”

Sam eased closer.

Understanding lit Malone’s gaze. “This is about Lora, isn’t it? Man, look, that was one time. One time. Okay? The lady made it clear she didn’t want a repeat performance, so you don’t need to fuck up my career just because you’re a jealous prick!”

Kenton just stared back at him.

Malone ran a shaking hand over his forehead. “That’s it, right? You called me in because—”

“Detective Malone,” Sam’s voice. Gentle and husky. “You were at the scene of Skofield’s car accident. The accident in which Rhonda Myers, a mother of two, was killed last spring.”

His gaze flew to her. “I was on my way home. I saw the lights. That was just chance.”

Kenton leaned forward. “Did you smell the alcohol on his breath?”

He flinched. “I wasn’t working the case! There were other units already there, and he was being loaded into the ambulance by the time I—”

“You smelled the booze. You knew what he’d done.” Kenton flipped open Skofield’s file. “And he got away, didn’t he? Got away with murder.”

“He was paralyzed, stuck in that chair, trapped in his house—”

“But he was alive.” Sam again. “That’s a whole lot more than we can say for Rhonda.” She crept to the table. “And you know it, don’t you? I bet you pulled his file as soon as you got back to the office. You saw all the DUIs. You knew what he was. He killed that woman. He should have been rotting in jail, and that ate you up, didn’t it?”

“The DA’s office had the evidence,” he snapped. “They’re the ones who take the cases. If they didn’t want to press for a murder conviction—”

“Then there wasn’t anything you could do,” Sam murmured.

A nod.

“Well,” Kenton drawled slowly, “there actually were a few things you could do.” He waited for Malone’s gaze to come back to him. “Or rather, a few things Phoenix could do.”

“I am not fucking Phoenix.”

Monica shut the door behind her. “What have I missed?”

Ramirez shook his head. “Not much yet. It looks like the show is just getting started.”

Her eyes narrowed when she caught sight of Sam. In interrogation? Since when?

“Did it piss you off to see them all get away with it? Breaking the law, hurting innocents—did that just make you furious?” Kenton’s voice fired at the cop.

Monica edged toward the viewing window to get a better view of Peter Malone’s body language. Definitely pissed. And nervous. His eyes darted back toward her, or rather, to the two-way mirror. Then he looked back at Kenton.

“I’ve been working this case with you, man. I’ve been trying to find him! I’ve been here.” Peter leaned forward now. “Maybe you’re the one who’s pissed. Your witness is dead and you’re looking to blame someone.”

Beside Ramirez, Captain Lawrence flinched.

Kenton just stared back at Malone.

The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Sure hope you plan to do a better job of watching Lora’s ass. I’d hate to see her wind up like—”

Kenton sprang to his feet and lunged across the table with his arms out and his hands fisted.

Oh, hell. “Ramirez… get in there!”

But Sam had Kenton. She grabbed his arm. “Kenton, easy.”

Monica could tell by his face that easy was the last thing Kenton was feeling.

“Are you threatening her?” Kenton demanded in a voice that was barely human.

“I’d never threaten, Lora. She’s my friend. I want her safe.”

“Do you?” Still that low rumble. “Or do you just want her to pay? Is she guilty, too? Because she rejected you? Just once, right? That’s all you said she wanted.”

Monica saw the cop’s hands flex, as if getting ready for a punch. Kenton was pushing all the right buttons.

Let’s see what happens when Malone’s control breaks.

“I wouldn’t hurt her!”

“Then tell us where you were,” Sam said. So calm in the face of that male storm. “For every kill, give us an alibi.” Her quiet voice seemed to settle Kenton.

Kenton took a deep breath and slowly eased away from her and back into his chair. “That’s right, that’s all you have to do. You’re innocent? We’re wasting our time? Then tell us where you were and all this goes away.”

“Start with Jennifer.” Sam pushed her file across the table. “Where were you on the eighteenth of October?”

“I’m supposed to remember that?”

“Yeah,” Kenton told him. “You are.”

The guy spun away and faced the mirror.

Monica studied him and noted the tense lines on Malone’s face. A lot of rage. And some fear. Now why would the fear be there? Phoenix didn’t strike her as a man who was afraid.

More like desperate for attention. Fame. He’d called the news station because he wanted his fifteen minutes. He’d demanded them.

Then attacked Lora because he hadn’t gotten them.

“You’re not gonna believe this, but I was fishing at my uncle’s cabin near Pontlock Lake.”

“And I’m not going to believe it because?”

Malone’s shoulders drooped a bit. “I was alone. I remember—I remember the date because my captain had to call me in.”

“Called on his cell phone,” the gravelly voice of Captain Lawrence told her. They were the first words he’d said the whole time that she’d been in the room.

Monica glanced over at him, brows rising. “He didn’t have a direct line at the cabin?”

The captain shook his head. Deep grooves bracketed his mouth and eyes. The captain looked older today. Much, much older. And that arrogance she’d seen before? Gone.

“What about the others?” Sam asked, flipping through the files. “Tom Hatchen? Charlie Skofield—”

“Dammit, I was here!”

“Um, no.” Sam looked up at him. “I checked the station log. You were off-duty for all those attacks.”

“No, no.” He turned, giving Monica a side profile view as he ran his hand through his hair again. “Wait, wait! I was here, don’t you remember? When the call came in from Phoenix? I was here, so there’s no way it could have been me! We’d just finished up that damn briefing and—”

“You weren’t in the bullpen when the call came in,” Monica murmured even though she knew that he couldn’t hear her. Because as soon as she’d heard Phoenix’s voice, she’d turned and scanned the area. She’d talked to Peter just moments before, but he hadn’t been there.

“It would have been easy enough to duck outside, find a quiet place, and make a sixty-second call.” Kenton cocked his head. “Or did you think we hadn’t considered that possibility? You were there before he called, there after, but no one remembers seeing you exactly when the call came in.”

“This is bullshit!”

“So you’ve said.” One shoulder lifted. “Just give us an alibi. That’s all we need.”

“How about today?” Sam circled around the table and headed toward him. “Tell us where you were when Bob Kyle was killed.”

His lips pressed together.

“You went to the fire station.” Kenton gave him the reminder, not that Monica thought the guy actually needed one. “You left. Where’d you go?”

“Lora’s. You found me there. You know exactly where I was.”

“You’ve got some time unaccounted for there, Malone.”

Killing time?

Malone swallowed. “After I left the fire station, I went straight to Lora’s place.”

“Shit.” The curse came from the captain. “I’m getting him a union rep. We’re not doing this—”

“I’m not gonna stand by and let a friend die.” Malone’s chin was up again. “I went back to search her property, and I was there the whole damn time!”

“Then you’d better hope a neighbor saw you.” Kenton’s body was bow tight. “Because, Malone, it’s not looking good for you. Not good at all.”

“This is one hell of a mess.” Those were the first words Kenton spoke when he and Sam entered the viewing room.

“That’s my cop you’re trying to tear apart in there.” Captain Lawrence finally tried to defend Malone. Right. Too little, too late. “He’s cooperated and answered your questions—”

“And didn’t give me a single alibi,” Kenton snapped. He wasn’t in the mood for any of the captain’s bull. Not then. Not when he could still picture Bob Kyle’s charred remains. “Your detective is the picture of cooperation.” His eyes never left Monica’s face. “What did you see?”

“Not enough.” She exhaled and began to pace with quick, long strides. “He didn’t slip up, not once. He’s angry, but he’s still controlled.”

Yeah, that’s exactly what Kenton had thought. Malone was angry, but it didn’t seem to be the killing rage of a murderer. Instead, the guy just seemed pissed that he was being questioned. Malone had met his stare for most of the interview. There’d been no nervous gestures or slip-ups with his story.

“I’m sending men to Lora Spade’s neighborhood.” Lawrence gave a decisive nod, and it was the first decisive thing Kenton had seen the guy do since he’d fucked up the media interview and spilled too much information. “They’ll find a witness. My man will be cleared.”

Then the captain was gone. He rushed out, probably so he wouldn’t have to keep looking them in the eyes.

Kenton waited. One beat. Two. When he was sure they had privacy, he said, “Come on, Monica, give me something that I can use against this guy.”

“He could be Phoenix.” One shoulder lifted, then fell. “But I need more. I can’t say yet what I believe.”

Fuck. Not helpful. “Hell.”

“His dad died in a fire,” Jon said. “He hangs out with firefighters. He slept with Kenton’s girl—uh, sorry, Kenton. The guy has means, and he has motive. One hell of a lot of motive.”

“Going after criminals.” Sam nodded. “That’s definitely motive for a cop.”

“More than just cops.” Monica glanced over at Malone. He’d just sat down. He turned his chair toward the glass and stared.

Not that he could see anything.

“How long are we gonna be able to keep him?” Sam asked.

Kenton stared back at Malone. Had the guy been threatening Lora? Rage bubbled inside him, nearly choking him. “We’re keeping him until Captain Lawrence’s men get back, and we see what we’ve got.” He glanced at Jon. “And then, if we cut him loose, I think we need to cover our bases.” This wasn’t a job that he wanted the Charlottesville PD handling.

A nod from Jon. “Babysitting duty.”

“You are the best when it comes to trailing.”

“Guess while I’m doing that, you’ll be watching Lora’s ass, huh?”

“Damn straight.” Because that gnawing in his gut told him that she wasn’t safe. “I’m heading to the fire station now.” Garrison and the others could just deal with it.

“I might take another go at our detective.” Monica’s voice was quiet, contemplative. “Not making any promises, but I’ll see what I can get.”

Good. “Call me. If you find out anything, call.”

“You know I will.” Her gaze went back to the cop. “If I can get him to break.”