Die for Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (6 page)

Katherine whirled and ran for the door.
Get away, get away, get away.

Because the nightmare of her past had found her once more.

The front door flew open and Katherine ran down the steps.

Adrenaline shot through Dane’s veins as he jumped from his vehicle. “Katherine!”

She didn’t seem to hear him. She was racing toward her little car, and even though he shouted for her to stop, she just kept going.

She jumped inside the small VW convertible. He saw the headlights flash on.

Dammit.

Dane leapt in front of her car, knowing the headlights would shine right on him. “
Katherine, stop!
”

The car’s engine revved.

He held up his hands. “Stop.”

The motor died away.

Slowly, Dane crept around the car. “Open the door.” He knew she could hear him.

After the smallest of hesitations, she did.

“What happened?” he asked. She’d said she wouldn’t run, but the woman sure seemed to be hauling ass.

She climbed from the car—and threw her arms around him. Katherine held tight to him, felt right against him, and Dane found himself wrapping his arms around her.

Pulling her even closer.

Her hair brushed against his nose, bringing him more of her scent, and her body pressed perfectly against his.

“Katherine…” He took a breath, almost tasted her. “What’s going on?”

She tilted her head back to stare up at him, and, with the moonlight shining down on them, Dane saw the glint of tears in her lashes. “He gave me his heart,” she said.

The shrink asshole? Or
Valentine
? He knew Valentine had been wild for her.

She swallowed. “Not
his
heart, though, is it? It’s hers. The bastard left it on my stairs.”

Understanding hit him.
Fuck.
He yanked out his phone. Called instantly for backup even as he kept a strong hold on Katherine.
Not getting away from me
. “What did you see?” he demanded as he waited for the line to connect. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe—

“A box was on my stairs inside. The third step,” she whispered. “I opened it. Rose petals were inside. Rose petals and a picture.” She drew in a ragged breath. “It was a photograph of Savannah’s chest with a knife driven into her heart.”

He glanced back at the house. The seemingly perfect house.

The call finally connected. He immediately barked, “This is Detective Dane Black. I need a team out at two-oh-one Byron West, and I need ’em fucking
now.
”

His gaze darted around the darkened woods.
No one close to hear the screams.

If he’d just stayed at her house instead of following after Katherine like a lovesick teen with a hard-on, he would’ve had the killer.

Had him
.

But maybe the bastard had left evidence behind that they could use. Something that could help him track the guy.

“It’s him,” Katherine said, her voice a bit stronger now. “He wants me to know
it’s him
.”

Dane had read more of the Valentine files before going to Katherine’s. He knew Valentine had taken pictures of his victims. Pictures of their dead bodies, with knives driven into their hearts. Then he’d delivered the stark black-and-white photos. One had gone to a victim’s parents. One to her lover. One to the FBI.

This time, the delivery had been made to Katherine.

He twined his fingers through hers. “Come with me.” He had to search the scene. The killer could still be in her house.

“No, I can’t go back in—”

“And I can’t leave you alone out here!” Leaving her unprotected was not an option he would take.

She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. “Right.”

He pulled out his gun and tightened his fingers around hers. “Stay with me. Every step, got it?”

A slow nod. “Got it.”

He stalked toward the house. Her front door hung open, and light spilled onto the porch. Katherine was a silent shadow behind him.

He went in first, doing a sweep and keeping his gun up and ready. He saw the long-stemmed roses on her stairs, with the white box dropped next to them. Scattered rose petals trailed over the floor. He didn’t open the box. No sense contaminating the scene any further, and Katherine—she didn’t need to see that photograph again.

They swept the bottom floor first. Dane made sure his body guarded Katherine at all times. Into one room. Another.

No sign of an intruder. Nothing broken. Nothing disturbed.

Just a deadly present left behind.

Carefully they eased up the stairs. Two rooms waited up there. The first was filled with canvases, art supplies. Dark splashes of color—they almost looked like blood—coated the stark white canvases.

The second room—it was her bedroom. The scent of strawberries was stronger there. The four-poster bed waited inside. Her clothes hung perfectly in her closet. Her small bathroom shone with clean precision.

Again, no sign of the intruder.

At least, no sign he could see. Maybe the crime-scene team would have better luck.

The bastard’s not in the house
.

But that didn’t mean the perp had left the scene.

Dane took Katherine back outside. They’d conducted the search in near silence. She’d been so close to him, her body had brushed against his with almost every step they’d taken.

On the porch, his gaze tracked along the line of trees. There were too many places to hide out there.

Dane wanted to race into the trees and find out if the bastard was still out there, hiding and watching, but he knew that keeping Katherine safe was the main priority. He couldn’t leave her, and in the dark woods, he wouldn’t be able to protect her.

So he kept her close, using his body as a shield, and he waited for his backup to arrive.

I’ll find you, bastard. I’ll stop you.

Shaking hands clenched into tight fists.

The detective wasn’t part of the plan.
He
shouldn’t be there. This wasn’t about him.

It was about Katherine.

Rage built,
built…

Katherine had been so afraid. She’d run, nearly tripping and slamming into the ground as she fled from her house.

This time, she couldn’t pretend to bury her nose in the sand and ignore the death around her. This time, it would be up close and personal for her.

Every attack, every kill, every heart…
for Katherine.

She wouldn’t be able to act like her hands were clean anymore.

They’d never been clean.

Police sirens howled in the distance.

Time to go. Time to start hunting again
.

The kill had been so easy. The rush better than sex. Life and death. Power and pleasure.

Pain. Fear. Release.

More, please
.

The fun was just beginning.

Police cars raced onto the scene. Dane stepped away from Katherine. Almost immediately, she missed the warmth and security of his body.

She saw his partner emerge from a blue SUV. Uniformed cops swarmed the scene.

“There’s a package on the stairs.” Dane’s voice rang out. “Don’t contaminate it. We want the crime-scene guys getting it in
pristine
condition.”

And the crime-scene unit was already there. She saw them piling out and pulling on their gloves.

“You searched the scene?” Dane’s partner demanded as he loped toward the house.

“The house is clear, Mac,” Dane said, but he pointed to the dark trees. “As for the rest of the place…”

“Let’s get teams searching the woods!” Mac’s order snapped out like a whip, and the uniforms scrambled to obey.

Dane grabbed the nearest uniform. Then he pointed at Katherine. “Watch her, got me? Make sure you stay with her, every damn second.”

He was leaving her? She blinked. “Dane…”

But he was already heading toward the woods. Going after Valentine.

The uniform took up his position beside her, his body trembling a bit. “Did you—” he began, but his voice broke. “Did you really find a box from the killer, ma’am?” Sick fascination.

Don’t feel. Don’t think
. “Yes, I did.” She recognized the box and the message it conveyed. The box
and
the flowers.

He wasn’t going to stop on his own, she knew that. He’d
told
her that.

I can’t stop. I have to kill. You understand
…

She kept her eyes on Dane as he headed into the darkness.

No, I don’t understand. I never will.

Valentine might think she was his soul mate, but they were nothing alike.

Nothing.

She wouldn’t let herself be like him.

Katherine sat in the back of the patrol car and watched as the evidence team
finally
came out of her house with the white box and the roses bagged for evidence.

She turned her gaze away. The other uniforms were piling into their vehicles, and the blue lights no longer lit up the scene. They hadn’t found Valentine.

“What are you doing in there?” Dane’s voice. “Dammit,” he said to the uniform—her guard—who stood close by. “I told you to watch her, not to shove her into a patrol car!”

“It’s okay, Dane,” she said with a sigh. She was still in her cocktail dress, and the headache that fear had scared away before was back now, pounding like a drum in her temples. “I asked if I could sit in here.” She slid her legs out of the car. Showed the high heels she still wore. “My feet were killing me.”

His gaze dropped to her legs. “You’re comin’ with me,” he told her, and his stare slowly rose to lock on hers.

Her brows lifted. “To the station? Tonight?” They’d been searching her property for
hours.
She’d been interviewed over and over again by Dane’s partner. She’d told him every detail about her discovery.

Dane caught her arm and pulled her from the car. “I’m not taking you to the station.”

There was a tightness to his mouth that hadn’t been there before.

“He was in your house.” He clenched his jaw as he said this. “If he’d wanted, he could have stayed inside and attacked you when you came home.”

Valentine had never attacked her. “He never hurt me,” she whispered.

“Before he didn’t, but how the hell do any of us know what he’s going to do now? Every report I read said he was psychotic and that he was totally fixated on you.”