So did he.
He figured he had the advantage though, considering he’d run a background check on her. After that first night, when he’d been sure someone was watching her, he’d started searching for information about the doc.
From what he’d gathered, the doc led a pretty quiet life. She dated occasionally but seemed to spend most of her time working with her patients.
He knew there was more to Emily though, knew secrets lay beneath her calm surface. And it looked like he was about to learn one of those secrets now…
"I think Darla’s investigating me." Her lips tightened. "Correction, I know she is." Anger hardened her voice. "I don’t know how she got the file. It should have been destroyed. There is no way she should have-"
"Whoa. Slow down." He gripped her elbows. "I’m not the mind reader, baby. I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about."
"Serenity Woods." She bit off the words. "She knows about the time I was at Serenity Woods."
He wasn’t getting it. "So you worked at a psych ward." He’d heard Emily and Darla’s conversation, and he’d thought the doc would be more rattled about the reporter’s demon question than a vague mention of some old psychiatric hospital.
He remembered reading an old file about the fire a few years ago. No one had been hurt. The smoke alarms had alerted the staff and they’d gotten all the patients out safely. A sudden thought had him tensing. "Dammit, Emily, were you working there when-"
"I didn’t work there!" Her voice was sharp. "Oh damn, I’ve got to go talk to Darla, find out what she knows."
"You mean we’ve got to talk to her." The doc should have gotten it by now. They were partners. Partners worked together. "But we can’t question her with all those other reporters around. We’ll wait, go to her later tonight."
Emily nodded, but she didn’t look pleased with the delay. "Fine."
Tension had made her body stiffen against his. His gaze swept over her. She was wearing a black turtleneck again. He’d wondered if she’d worn that top to hide the faint mark he’d left on her throat.
He’d marked her deliberately, of course. It was the way of his kind.
And he’d do it again. As soon as he got her beneath him, or on top of him.
Hell, he’d take her any way he could get her. He’d gotten his first good taste of the doc, and he was hungry, starving, for more.
His gaze dropped to her waist. She was wearing a skirt. A slim black skirt.
Pity Smith was waiting on them. He’d sure love to lift up that skirt and find out if Emily was as soft as he remembered.
His cock swelled against his zipper.
Damn. Not the time.
Emily was angry, frightened, and sure as hell not in the mood for a horny shifter.
Later.
He forced his hands to release their grip on her. They needed to talk more. A hell of a lot more. He still didn’t know what secret was burning her from the inside, but they were already running late. It would have to wait. He’d question her after they talked to Smith. "We need to get going. Smith wants us to meet her in the morgue."
A flash of distaste covered Emily’s face.
"Yeah, Doc. I hate the smell down there, too." He sure as hell didn’t know how Smith could stand it. "But she’s got something to tell us." Maybe they’d gotten lucky and Smith had found a link to the killer.
Emily nodded jerkily and began hurrying down the stairs. He frowned as he watched her, remembering too late the words he’d all but ignored moments before.
I didn’t work there.
But if Emily hadn’t been working at Serenity Woods, then what had she been doing there?
Smith was waiting on them, already covered in her white lab coat. She had her radio turned on; she usually listened to it when she was doing paperwork, and soft, whispery jazz filled the air.
She frowned when she saw them. "Damn, Gyth. What’d you guys do, stop for coffee?"
"Sorry." Emily cleared her throat. "My fault. I was talking to a reporter."
"Hmmm. Freaking vultures." Smith shoved away from her desk. "Those idiots didn’t care about the facts. They just want to hype the killer, sell more copies of their paper, and get folks so scared they stay glued to their TV sets."
"A little harsh, don’t you think?" Colin asked. He knew Smith didn’t love the media. She’d had a run-in a few years ago with a reporter for News Flash Five. The guy had tried to make it look like she’d contaminated evidence in a murder trial.
She hadn’t, but the reporter had done a damn good job of insinuating that she and the department were corrupt.
Luckily, the jury had been sequestered and they’d missed the daily news reports and the murderer had gone to jail.
But Smith hadn’t forgotten or forgiven.
One thing he’d learned about Smith in the six years they’d worked together, the woman could hold a serious grudge.
Smith grunted and looked at Emily. "You handled yourself pretty well. Glad you didn’t let ’em push you in the corner about the killer being all crazy."
Emily blinked. "Uh, thanks." Her voice sounded a little absent, and Colin realized she wasn’t looking at Smith. Or at him. Her focus was on the "cold chamber," the vaults near the back of the lab that were used to store the bodies.
She even started walking toward them, her eyes narrowed, her right lifted as if she’d touch the metal doors.
Smith snagged her hand. "Goin’ somewhere, Dr. Drake?"
Colin knew Smith was very particular about her lab. Particular, or possessive as hell.
"Umm, sorry." But Emily was still gazing at the vaults. "I just…umm…what did you want to show us? And shouldn’t McNeal be here?" Tension was back in her voice.
Now Smith was the one to stiffen. "He doesn’t need to be here."
Oh, yeah. He’d forgotten about that, Colin realized. Word around the precinct was that Smith and McNeal had dated. Very briefly.
Emily finally looked back at him. "I think he should be here." There was a note in her voice, a glint in her eye that finally made him realize-
The doc is sensing something.
His own gaze drifted to the vaults that seemed to hold her so spellbound.
What had she said when she’d first examined Preston’s body? The captain had wanted to know if she could tell whether the guy had been Other, and Emily had said, "If the death is recent, some of the spirit will still be there."
Anybody in the vaults, well, they wouldn’t exactly be "recent," but Emily was sure acting odd. Acting like she knew something he didn’t.
Yeah, big surprise there.
Colin jerked his thumb toward Smith’s desk. "Maybe you should page the captain."
"What?" Smith dropped Emily’s hand. "You guys don’t even know what I want to show you." She spun on her heel, hurrying toward the vaults. "And it could be nothing, but, well, the other night, I was listening to the police radio when the APB was sent out on those guys who jumped you." She swung the lock on the middle vault, pulled open the door.
Colin urged Emily forward. Cold air hit him, followed closely by the thick stench of death.
Damn but he hated that smell.
Emily twisted her hands together and grimaced.
Smith hummed along to the music as she pulled out a slab. A sheet-covered body appeared, and when Smith’s hip bumped the slab, a man’s hand slipped from under the cover.
Colin’s eyes immediately locked on the tattoo. A long, twisting black snake encircled the dead man’s left wrist.
Sonofabitch. His gaze flew to Emily. She gave a nearly imperceptible nod. And the light of understanding finally dawned.
The dead man on the slab, he wasn’t a man at all. He was one of the demons who’d attacked them last night. Emily had known, had sensed the truth when she’d come into the room.
Hell, no wonder she’d been trying to get them to call for McNeal.
"The tat’s a match for the description you gave." Smith pulled back the sheet, revealing the white face of a young guy; he looked barely twenty, with a shaved head and a glinting nose ring. "Cops found his body downtown. He was in an alley."