Die for Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (36 page)

Katherine stared there, lost, stunned, as the swirling lights of the police cruisers lit up the scene.

Someone touched her shoulder, and Katherine jumped, flinching.

“Easy,” Dane whispered. “It’s me.”

His touch usually warmed her, but right then she just felt…cold. “Where’s Evelyn?”

No answer.

“Where. Is. She.” A demand.

“She was already dead.” His jaw tightened. “She wanted Valentine, and it looks like she got exactly what she wanted.”

Marcus swore.

Cops were heading toward the building. A crime-scene van rolled up.

“The reporters are going to be here soon,” Dane said. “They would have been listening to the police radio. We need to get you out of here.”

Right. Only she wasn’t moving.

Dane put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her toward him. “We got him, Katherine. We got the bastard.”

“He looks so different,” she whispered. “But before he got into that patrol car, his voice—his voice was Michael’s.”

Dane gave a grim nod. “We’ll check his prints, compare his DNA, but the bastard confessed upstairs. He
is
Valentine.”

“Then it’s over,” Marcus said. “His crimes end—”

But he broke off, seeing as Katherine did the hard jerk of his head that Dane had just given.

“We need to find Maggie Dunning,” Dane said.

“Isn’t she at the hospital?” Katherine asked slowly. “With her father?”

“I hope to hell she is by now.” But Dane didn’t look hopeful. “Because it sounded like the guy was taunting us upstairs.” His
gaze burned into Katherine’s. “He wanted us to think he still had one more victim out there…”

“Maggie.” Margaret Dunning.

Marcus rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “He’s still playing with us.”

Dane’s expression was hard, unreadable, but fear had thickened inside Katherine because yes, she was very afraid that Valentine was still playing and that the deaths weren’t over.

Not yet.

They had the sonofabitch.

Valentine sat, hands cuffed behind him, two uniformed guards just a few feet away, in a chair in interrogation room number one. Dane and Mac were in the observation room, surrounded by half a dozen other detectives. The DA, Henry Meadows, was there, pacing nervously. He was sweating, and the cool-under-fire DA wasn’t normally the type to sweat.

“No one can locate Margaret Dunning,” Meadows said, jaw locking. His light blue eyes were a stark contrast to his dark brown skin. “There was no conference out of town. No seminar. She hasn’t been at work in three days, and her apartment is empty.”

Dane glanced through the observation mirror. Valentine had a faint smile curving his lips. “He knows where she is.”

“Is she dead, Detective?” Meadows asked flatly.

Probably.
But he couldn’t bring himself to say what they all feared. Margaret—Maggie. She’d always been a sweet girl. Kind to everyone she met. Far too trusting for a cop’s daughter.

Meadows exhaled. “We need to know. Because I don’t want to bargain with that sick prick over a dead woman’s body.”

“Even when it’s the captain’s daughter?” Mac snapped at him.

Meadows glanced through the glass. “People in this city are gonna want the death penalty for him. I know assholes just like
him. Seen plenty like him over the years. Plenty of twisted freaks. He’ll try to trade the woman’s body for his own life. If I make that deal…”

“The captain’s
daughter
,” Mac repeated, sounding as if rage were choking him.

“If she’s alive, I’ll do anything to get her back,” Meadows said instantly. “But let’s make absolutely sure that Valentine has her. That the girl didn’t just get pissed and run out of town or—”

“She’s the daughter of a cop.” Dane kept his gaze on Valentine. The guy looked far too smug. “She knows better than to vanish without telling someone where she’s going.” He lifted his hand. Tapped the glass. “He knows where she is. He planned for this, wanted a way out in case we caught him.”

“There
is
no way out.” Meadows was adamant.

“No.” Dane shook his head. “Not for him.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to push away his tension. He had to go in there and get the bastard to confess…to all of his crimes. He wanted an airtight case against Valentine. Wanted to nail this bastard to the wall. “Let’s do this, Mac.” He turned toward the door.

And found his path blocked by Meadows. The guy’s lips were tight and his voice hard as he said, “You did a great job bringing him in, Detective Black, but from now on, you’re staying away from him.” He motioned to two detectives on the left. “Forrest, Smith, get me a confession.”

“
What the fuck?
” Mac demanded.

“I’m thinking about trial,” Meadows snapped right back. “You…” He pointed at Dane. “You’re sleeping with the killer’s ex.”

“
Watch it.
” Dane’s back teeth ground together.

“And you…” Meadows glanced at Mac. “The killer threatened your lover. Neither one of you two are what I’d call unbiased. If I’m getting a needle shoved in that guy’s arm, then I
need a confession that won’t be tossed. One his lawyer won’t get shredded by the judge.” He exhaled and shrugged. “Sorry, men, but you’re out.”

“This is bullshit,” Mac spat out as he stabbed a finger into the DA’s chest. “
We
worked this case. Risked our lives for it, and you’re shutting us out now?”

There was regret in his eyes, but Meadows simply said, “Yes.”

“No way, no—” Mac began.

Dane put his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Mac spun on him. “How can you be so cool?”

He wasn’t. He was burning on the inside. “He’s cuffed.
We
got him, Mac. We got the bastard.” And if they needed to step back so the deal would be sealed and a needle shoved into the guy…
I can do that.

Because it wasn’t about grabbing a headline or being the detective who was up on the stand making the big testimony before all the cameras. To him, this was about Katherine. Giving her life back to her.

About
stopping
Valentine. Making sure that bastard never hurt anyone else.

Katherine was safe. Ronnie was safe.

And I hope to hell that Maggie is, too.

“We did our job,” Dane said again.

Mac gave a grudging nod.

“The perp has already flatly refused to talk to the profiler, so Marcus Wayne is back studying the last crime scene, getting us more evidence to nail this guy’s coffin shut,” Meadows said. “This is a high-fucking-profile case. It’s gonna be on every news channel in the United States. I don’t want anything screwing it up.”

Dane looked over his shoulder. Forrest and Smith had just entered interrogation room one.

Valentine frowned at them, then shook his head. “Do I look like I want amateur hour?” he demanded.

You don’t want anything screwing it up, Meadows? Then watch out…because Valentine lives to screw with people.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Smith drawled, grabbing the chair across from Valentine. “We aren’t amateurs.”

Valentine started to laugh. Deep, rumbling chuckles as he tossed back his head. Then, with his lips still twisting, he looked away from those two detectives and stared right at the two-way mirror.
Right at Dane.

“I’m only talking to Dane and Mac. The rest of the detectives here can fuck off.”

“It’s
not
about what you want,” Smith began.

Valentine kept staring at the mirror. “Meadows, are you there too?”

The guy stiffened beside Dane.

“You have such a lovely wife,” Valentine said. “Sweet lady, but Tonya doesn’t know about all the deals you make with killers, does she? Bad move, dealing with devils. You could get burned.”

“He did not just fucking say my wife’s name.” A lethal intensity had entered Meadows’s voice.

“Meadows, meet Valentine,” Dane muttered. He had the feeling that Valentine had been ahead of the cops from the beginning.

Was
still
ahead.

Where was Maggie?

“I haven’t asked for a lawyer,” Valentine said, the heel of his right foot tapping back against his chair leg. “And I won’t.”

“Because you’re a dumb-ass,” Meadows growled.

“But I’m only talking to Dane and Mac.” Valentine’s foot stopped tapping as he leaned back in his chair. The smile slowly faded from his face. “And it’s not like we really have time to waste.”

Meadows was frowning. “He’s bullshitting.”

“Valentine
doesn’t
bullshit,” Dane replied. The DA should know that. “And maybe you should rethink having Wayne away from the station during the interrogation.”

“Look around,” Valentine said, then widened his eyes innocently. “The gang should all be here, right? But…is someone missing?”

“
Margaret
,” Meadows whispered.

Dane shook his head. “Maggie wouldn’t be at the station. She never comes here.” She hated that her father was a cop. Hated the danger that had stalked him for her entire life.

The gang
…

Dane’s gaze met Mac’s. “Were any cops missing after that explosion? Was there
anyone
who wasn’t accounted for?” They’d been so busy hunting for Valentine in the swamp. Had he been hunting one of them?

“The longer I wait, the less I’ll share.” Valentine’s gaze flickered to the detectives in the room with him. “You two should just get the hell out.”

“And you need to stop acting like you’re the man in charge,” Forrest said as he sauntered up behind Valentine. “You need to—”

Valentine lunged up from his chair, twisted, and slammed his head into Forrest’s face. Blood spurted from the detective’s nose. He reached for his gun.

The uniforms rushed forward, ready to restrain Valentine.

But the guy just sat back in his chair, as nice as you please. Blood was on his shirt. He was smiling again.

Meadows hit the button for the intercom. “Cuff the bastard to the table.”

The door opened behind Dane. Detective Karen James came inside. Like most of the cops, she was eager to get an
up-close look at the killer. Only she shouldn’t have been in there at that moment—when they’d arrived at the station, Karen had been assigned to watch Katherine while Dane met with the DA.

“What happened to Forrest?” Karen asked as she leaned closer to the glass.

“Valentine,” Mac answered.

Dane exhaled slowly. He didn’t like that the killer was still playing his games with them. The whole scene felt wrong. “Where’s Katherine?” Dane asked.

“In Harley’s office,” Karen replied, her gaze still on Valentine. “Don’t worry, your lady’s safe.”

Your lady.
“You need to send us in, Meadows,” Dane said, his voice hardening.

“I thought you were fine with us staying out here,” Mac muttered, frowning at him.

“That was before the asshole asked for us and broke Forrest’s nose.”
And said we were running out of time. He’s still playing his games.

Meadows loosened his tie. “I
can’t.
You’re personally involved. The captain should have pulled you.”

“We brought the bastard in
because
of our personal involvement. If Katherine hadn’t been working with us, a dozen cops might have died at that house on Oakland. She saved Harley’s life. Every step of the way, she was trying to help us figure out Valentine.”

Dane looked back through the mirror. Forrest had his hand shoved under his nose, trying to stop the blood flow. It looked like the guy was exercising all of his self-control to keep from attacking Valentine.

And Valentine, he was just sitting there as calm as you please.

“I’m sure my propensity for violence is listed in my profile,” Valentine said, straightening his shoulders. “You don’t need to act so surprised by the attack, Detective.”

Listed in my profile
…

Dane’s eyes narrowed.

The gang should all be here.

To Valentine, just who all comprised the gang to him? Dane, Mac, Wayne…
Ross?
“Where’s the marshal?”

Meadows faltered.

“Has anyone seen Anthony Ross?” Dane demanded.

The cops stared blankly at him.

Dane yanked out his phone and tried to get the marshal on the line. Ross would want to know about Valentine—but hell, when they’d brought the killer to the station, the reporters had been waiting for them. Valentine’s new face was already splashed on all the TVs in town.

Ross would have heard the reports. He
should
have been there.

And Ross wasn’t answering his phone.

Dane’s fingers tightened around the phone. Ross had been at the explosion on Oakland, but Dane hadn’t seen the guy since then. “Was he taken to the hospital after Oakland?” The scene had been chaos. So many injured cops…

No one answered. Shit. Dane called Mercy General, got the attendant to check, but there was no record of an Anthony Ross being treated.

Dane glanced around the room and saw John Baylor. He was damn glad John was there—the man was the best tech support they had. “Trace his phone,” he ordered John.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Meadows began. “If a man doesn’t answer when you call, that doesn’t mean—”

“Valentine is too smug, too damn confident for a man who should be looking at death.” Dane shook his head. “Anthony Ross has been on this case for three years—
three years
—but he’s not here now, when we actually have Valentine?” No, that wasn’t the way the scene would play.

Sweat beaded near the DA’s temples. “Fine. John, get a trace on his phone. Show the detective that he’s wrong.”

Dane wanted to be wrong.

“He’s not afraid of us,” Mac said. “That asshole
should
be afraid.”

“He’s not afraid because he doesn’t give a shit what we think.” Dane took his gun out of his holster. Put it on the table. If he was going in that room, he wanted to remove temptation from his grasp.

Because I want you dead, bastard.
When he got close to Valentine, the temptation to shoot just might be too strong for him.

“He only cares about Katherine,” Mac added as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “She’s the only one—”