Something Wicked: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense (17 page)

“Man walked in a few minutes ago. Claims he’s the Reaper.” Capt. Devereux said without greeting. “Get this. He knows the victims all died from chloroform injections.”

“I’m on my way.”

Dylan pressed END and stepped back toward their table. “Alexandra, we need to go.”

She looked up and crossed her arms. “What happened?”

Dylan addressed Connor. “I’m sorry, Connor, but I’m needed at the department. Can we continue this discussion later?”

The other man stood. “Of course.”

Nodding for her to follow, Dylan turned and headed for the door, hoping his luck had taken a turn for the better and they actually had the sonofabitch in custody. Alexandra’s sneakered feet squished against the pavement outside as she caught up to him. “Dylan! What’s going on?”

He grabbed her arm to hurry her along beside him. He lowered his voice. “Someone’s turned himself in. He knows something about the case that hasn’t been made public.”

“Really?” She sounded confused, wary.

He nodded and kept her moving when her steps slowed.

“Dylan, seriously, do you think this guy would just give up like that?”

“You tell me.” She tugged her arm free and stopped, forcing him to turn and ask, “What are you doing?”

“Let me stay and finish talking to Connor. Officer Graham can drive me to the station afterward.” She gestured to the uniformed officer who was pacing the sidewalk a few feet away.

Uh-uh. No way.

She took another step back and crossed her arms. “If you’ve got the killer in custody, what are you worried about? I should be safe.” She pointed toward Connor, who’d stepped outside and was watching them with interest. “This guy kills demons for a living, Dylan. I think I’m safe with him.”

He had no idea if they’d caught the killer or not, and he didn’t intend to chance anything until he did. Leaving her with some punk he barely knew was out of the question. “You’re being reckless.”

“I promise I won’t be long.” She shooed him away. “Now go.”

Damn stubborn woman. He was debating whether or not to haul her over his shoulder and toss her in the car when she turned and started walking back the way they’d come. “Alexandra!”

He felt Graham’s presence before he saw her at his side. “Everything okay?”

He muttered a harsh curse. “Stay with her. Bring her to the office when you’re done here. No stops.” Just for good measure, he told her to call in a background check on Connor Manning.

“Sure.” Graham hurried to catch the door as it closed behind the woman whose life purpose must have been to drive him crazy. He took a deep breath and slid into the driver’s seat of his assigned car. He’d put the lights on to get there faster.

He couldn’t get there soon enough.

Alexandra stepped off the hospital’s elevator and took a deep breath.

She’d feel a lot better when she had a new hex bag in her hot little hands, especially now that she had a better idea of what she was up against.

Connor had been eager to go investigate the location of the anomaly after she’d explained where the gray beams seemed to be strongest. He had no idea why she could see them and he couldn’t.

“You’re a powerful medium.” He’d handed her his boss’s card. “You really should think about joining us. You wouldn’t have to quit your job or move. Just consult with us every now and then. You could learn a lot from the Bellator.”

Call her crazy, but she was considering it.

She didn’t know what her future with Dylan held, but it was good to know she had one option on the table. That was, if she survived all of this.

Shouting from the floor’s waiting room diverted her attention away from her thoughts and onto the two men threatening each other with angry expressions and balled fists.

Beside her, Graham sighed. “Stay here. Let me check on this.”

Alexandra nodded. “Reedus’s room is right down the hall. Meet you there?”

Graham hesitated and then nodded when noise from the argument grew louder. Alexandra watched through the glass as the officer stepped into the room, put herself between the men, and demanded to know what was happening.

Alexandra heard enough as she passed to speculate the men were brothers who didn’t get along. One wanted the other gone.

Some families. Geez.

She had her head tilted, trying to gather whether or not she should go help Graham, when she bumped into someone coming from the opposite direction. “Oh!”

“Miss King. We need to stop running into each other like this.”

Alexandra glanced up, slightly startled, and relaxed. It was that medical examiner. What was his name? Watkins, or something like that. The guy who’d seen her faceplant her first day here.

“You aren’t kidding.” She smiled. “Were you here to see Reedus?”

He nodded. “They’re releasing him. Wanted to wish him well before he left.” His face scrunched as he lifted a thumb and angled it down the hall. “You knew they moved him to a different room, right?”

“No, I didn’t.” Truth was, she’d lied to Graham to get the other woman to stop by the hospital. Dylan would have a hissy fit if he knew they’d detoured from his orders. An ache at the back of her head caused her to wince. She got headaches a lot, usually after she’d opened herself up to the other side and chatted with a few ghosts for a while. Sickness was a nasty side effect she often had to deal with.

A wave of nausea accompanied the sharp pain. Great. A migraine was coming on.

She’d been pushing herself too hard.

“Here. I’ll show you his room.” Watkins placed his hand on her back and directed her around the empty gurney sitting in the hall.

Watkins was suddenly drinking a beer at the Southend Brewery. He was watching someone.

He was watching her and Dylan. He wore a dark cap over his head. The old lady demon was standing right beside him. He pulled something out of his coat pocket and placed it on the bar. The grim reaper drawing on the napkin.

As quickly as the scene flashed through her mind, it was gone.

Alexandra gasped and glanced up at Watkins. He was watching her closely. His eyes behind his glasses were dark. Empty. Dangerous.

This man was the killer.

She opened her mouth to scream but he reacted too fast, grabbing her, lifting a white cloth to her mouth and crowding her against the wall. She inhaled the smell of something sweet. Her body betrayed her, immediately relaxing and going limp against him as she struggled to stay conscious. She tried to push the cloth away, but she was too weak. His hand held it firm against her mouth, forcing her to breathe in the scent.

A few seconds later he maneuvered her onto the gurney, covered her with a sheet, and she sank into the quiet oblivion of sleep.

***

Dylan looked through the window at the man seated alone in the interrogation room.

Curly dark hair. Eyeglasses. Button-down shirt that was soaked from sweat at the underarms. This guy could have been anyone. Average Joe.

His name was Bill Hardman. An accountant. Lived near the Battery.

Their suspect shifted in his seat and kept looking at the watch on his wrist. Every now and then he took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

Dylan flipped through the pages of the man’s original statement that had been hastily typed up by Officer Vinson. The guy sure knew a lot. Method of killing. What types of calling cards had been left at each murder scene. Where the victims had been taken from.

Dylan shook his head. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Hands on his hips, Vinson grunted. “Had the same feeling. It’s too easy. Guy doesn’t strike me as a killer. Something’s got him rattled.”

“Let’s go find out if we’re right.”

Hardman’s eyes widened when Dylan opened the door and stepped into the room, Vinson behind him. “Mr. Hardman. We already have your confession. You understand you can have a lawyer present for questioning?”

The man swallowed, hard. “No lawyer.”

Dylan took the seat across from him. “Why ‘no lawyer’? Everyone always wants a lawyer.”

Hardman blinked rapidly and glanced at his watch. “I don’t want one. Can we just get on with this?”

Dylan leaned back, relaxed, in his chair. “You have somewhere you need to be? Hate to tell you, buddy, but you’re not going anywhere for a while.”

Hardman’s right leg was bouncing, causing his entire body to shake. “I confessed. I’m the killer.”

Dylan opened the file in front of him and removed two of the crime scene photos. He slid them across the table and watched Hardman closely for a reaction. Eyes widened, the man’s face turned at least three shades paler.

“So you did this?” Dylan tapped the last photo. “Even this one?”

“Yeah, I did them all.” He tore his gaze away from the second photo, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of it.

Dylan glanced over his shoulder and grinned at Vinson. The other cop nodded. “Well, that’s funny.” He tapped the second photo. It was from a different crime scene, already solved, five years old. The woman in the picture had a small-caliber bullet wound to the chest. “I don’t think you killed anyone. That makes me wonder, how do you know so much? Are you an accomplice?”

The man shot another quick look at his watch. “I told you. I’m the killer! Please, release my name to the press. That’s all I ask.”

“Why should we release your name?” Dylan shrugged. “I see no reason to charge you.”

The man’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears and something Dylan could only describe as panic.

“Okay.” Dylan leaned forward. “What kind of car did you use when you killed these people?”

Hardman’s gaze moved to where Vinson was standing, then back to Dylan. “A van. I used a van.” He paused. “I rented it.”

“No you didn’t.”

That was all it took for the accountant’s demeanor to crumble. Bursting out with a sob, he begged, “Please, just release my name to the press.”

“Why?”

Hardman shook his head. “He’ll kill my daughter if you don’t.”

“Who’ll kill your daughter?”

The man could hardly speak through his tears now. “A man…called me this morning. There was a package at my desk. Pictures of my little girl on the playground.” He sniffed and struggled for composure. “I’m a single father. My daughter, she’s only in first grade. He knew her name. Knew her teachers. Knew what she’d been wearing this morning. He told me what to say. Said he’d kill her if I didn’t confess. He wanted me to come in at three o’clock exactly.” His chin trembled. “He told me what he’d do to her if I didn’t.”

Dylan swore. The sick sonofabitch had wanted a diversion. That was all this was. “Mr. Hardman, your daughter is going to be okay.” Standing and turning to Vinson, he ordered, “Get some officers to her school. I want his daughter found and in custody. Get someone in here to take this man’s statement. His real one this time.”

Vinson nodded and hurried out of the room. Dylan wasn’t long after him.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Alexandra’s number. It went straight to voicemail. Worry clawed at his chest as he called dispatch and asked to be connected with Graham.

She responded promptly.

“Where are you?”

“We’re at the hospital. Alexandra said you wanted us to stop and pick up something from Detective Reedus.”

“Is she with you?”

There was a pause. “She’s just down the hall.”

Dylan was already hurrying toward his cruiser. “Dammit! I told you not to let her out of your sight.”

“It was just down the hall.” There was static for several seconds. “Collins, I don’t see her. She’s not where she’s supposed to be. Reedus hasn’t seen her either.”

Dylan swore.

“I’m on my way there. Find her.”

How could he have been so stupid? This psychopath had already made it clear he enjoyed toying with the police. Dylan should have never left Alexandra at the deli.

He was pushing through the doors to the parking lot when a familiar face headed into the building jolted him back.

What the—?

He hadn’t seen his older brother in years, but not much had changed. Zach had filled out, was a little taller, but Dylan would know him anywhere.

He held up a hand as his brother strode toward him with purpose. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

Zach wouldn’t let him pass. “Something’s happened to Alexandra, hasn’t it?”

Dylan hesitated. “What do you know? Did she call you? Where is she?”

“I haven’t spoken to her in a couple of days.” Zach pushed a hand through his hair and glanced around. “I didn’t even know the real reason she was here until this morning.”

He did not have time for this. “Look, man, I get it, but I have a bit of an emergency right now. Can we do this later?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He had to find Alexandra.

Zach hurried to match his pace. “Alexandra is in trouble. I’m responsible for this. I’m going with you.”

Dylan grunted. “You’re accepting responsibility for something? That’s a first.” He opened the driver’s door of his cruiser. “I didn’t say my emergency involved Alexandra.”

“You didn’t have to.” Zach opened the passenger side. “I know the woman.”

What the hell? Maybe Zach could help him track her down. Right now he wasn’t adverse to any help he could get. “Get in.”

He didn’t wait for his brother to buckle up. He gunned it out of the parking space and put his lights and siren on.

Vinson’s voice chirped over the radio, addressing Dylan. He lifted the radio. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Hardman’s daughter is safe. She doesn’t remember anything unusual. It was just a distraction.”

“Copy that. I’m on my way to the hospital. Call McCormick in. Tell him to meet me there.”

Neither he nor Zach said anything for several seconds. It was odd to be sitting in a car with a relative he hadn’t seen in, what?, close to fifteen years without fireworks, drama, something happening. The silence grated on his nerves. “Alexandra told me why you left home. That all true?”

Zach’s expression gave nothing away. “I don’t know what she told you. Never talked to her about it.”

Dylan didn’t want to have a heart to heart with his brother right now, but he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. “Ray never laid a hand on me. I didn’t know.”

He glanced at his brother. Zach was looking out the window, but Dylan heard the humor in Zach’s voice when he said, “Alexandra is good at what she does, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she is.”

“Did you ask her to help with this case you’re working, or did she volunteer?”

“What do you think?”

Zach rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m gonna kill that woman when I see her.”

“Why are you here, Zach? How did you know she’s in trouble?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Not too long ago, that would have been true. “Try me.”

“Mom.”

“What?”

Zach blew out a deep breath. “Mom told my girlfriend’s cat everything. Begged me to get down here to help. She said things were going bad, fast.”

“You’re kidding.”

Zach shook his head. “It’s not a con, Dylan. I really am psychic.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dylan lifted his radio. “Graham, what’s your situation?”

A few seconds later, the officer responded, “No sign of Miss King yet. A few patrols came to assist. We’re still searching.”

Dylan swore and directed the car toward the hospital’s main entrance. “Zach, what the hell did your girlfriend’s cat tell you. What do you think you know?”

He felt his brother’s piercing gaze summing him up. “There’s a serial killer. Calls himself the Grim Reaper. Alexandra is meant to be his last victim.”

“What do you mean, last victim?”

“There’s some evil stuff going down here. This guy isn’t making his own decisions. He plans to kill himself. Complete whatever sick plan that’s been put in his head. He’s being influenced by something…something evil.”

“A cat told you all that?”

“Some of it came from the dog.”

Dylan shot his brother an incredulous look as he parked the car at the curb. “I think you’d better stop talking now.”

“Agreed.” Zach pushed out the passenger side, but not before Dylan caught the half smirk on his older brother’s face.

Zach had never been much of a practical joker, so what was he playing at? Did he really think he could suddenly talk to cats and dogs?

Man, this whole situation was one for Jerry Springer.

Dylan wiped a hand over his face as he hurried into the building. He spotted the medical examiner carrying a duffle bag, leaving. He stopped the guy.

“Watkins, have you seen the blonde I was here with the other day?” Maybe Alexandra had wanted to ask him some questions. Maybe she’d had a vision or something.

Watkins glanced between him and Zach. His eyes widened a fraction, just enough to be noticeable, but then he focused on Dylan again. “No. Sorry.” His keys clanged together as he dangled them from one hand. “I hate to be rude, but I have a body to transfer.” He gestured toward the medical examiner’s van sitting in the carport. “If I see Miss King, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”