“I don’t think so. If I knew, I’d tell you.” She met his angry eyes. “I swear.”
That seemed to satisfy him, temporarily at least. “Stay here. I’ll tell the officers to keep any press away. You’re our one link right now. I don’t want any of this leaking.”
“Don’t worry,” she said grimly. “I’m in no hurry to tell.”
He nodded and touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll be back.”
Frowning, she watched him go. What did he know? How had he known? And who was Samantha Altman? Quickly she pulled her cell from her pocket and dialed Ethan.
“I can’t talk long. I don’t want them to see me calling you.”
“Who is ‘them,’ Eve?”
“The police. It’s bad. Christy Lewis is dead. And she’s not the first.”
There was shocked silence on the other end. “Oh my God. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, if you don’t count the fact that I’ve been cuffed and questioned.”
“They cuffed you?” he whispered fiercely, as if he didn’t want Dana to overhear him.
“Detective Webster took off the cuffs. It was a mistake. The cops that first got here weren’t supposed to do that. Did you keep a copy of that file you sent me?”
“Eve,” Ethan warned. “What the hell is this all about?”
“I really don’t know. If anybody catches me talking to you, I’m asking you to get me an attorney. I probably won’t need one, but it’s a believable story. Do you have the file?”
“Yes.”
“See if there is a Samantha Altman on the participant list.”
There was a short silence as he searched. “No Altman on the list.”
“I didn’t think so. Three women are dead. Two were in my study, Altman wasn’t. They think I’m their only link, but I can’t be.”
“Don’t say anything else until we get you an attorney,” Ethan said firmly.
“I’m not a suspect, Ethan. They’re worried I’ll be a victim.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” he gritted.
Two CSU vans had just pulled up, along with an SUV from the ME’s office, followed by a sleek Mercedes. “Not really. If I get arrested, you’ll be my one phone call, okay?”
“And until then?” Ethan demanded.
“Until then, I guess we wait. I gotta go. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly safe here.”
Monday, February 22, 5:10 p.m.
Noah stared. It was déjà vu all over again. Again. Christy Lewis hung from a rope on a hook in her bedroom. Her dress was the same style as Martha’s and Samantha’s, as were her shoes. One shoe lay on its side while the other stood straight up. The makeup, the upholstered stool, the open window… Everything was the same.
“My God,” Ian murmured. He walked around the victim. “This is… unreal.”
Carleton had followed him in. “It certainly is… except it’s very real.”
“Can you get a time of death, Ian?” Noah asked wearily.
“Not right now. She’s got the same petachiae in her eyes, the rope’s in the same position. He’s got this down to a science.” Shaking his head, Ian went to work.
“Did you find her?” Jack asked, and Noah knew he meant Eve.
“Yeah. Damn locals had her cuffed in the back of their cruiser.”
Micki looked up from taking pictures, her brow creased in an angry frown. “You unlocked her, didn’t you?” she demanded. She’d been floored when Noah had told her the caller was Eve Wilson. She’d been outraged when Noah had told her Eve worked with Martha Brisbane for Siren Song. You must have made a mistake, she’d said, so adamantly Noah had wondered all the way up here what Micki Ridgewell knew.
“Of course I unlocked the cuffs.” Noah studied Micki’s face. “Why?”
Micki shook her head. “She’s just been through a lot, that’s all.”
Noah knew Micki well enough to know that’s all she’d say. He’d look it up later.
“This feels like Groundhog Day,” Jack said quietly.
Noah looked up into Christy Lewis’s “unnatural” eyes. They were glued open, just as the others had been. “I know.”
“Oh God.” Ian straightened abruptly and looked around the room, alarm on his face.
“What?” Noah looked around as well, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing he hadn’t seen twice before anyway.
“Look,” Ian said, then lifted the skirt away from Christy Lewis’s legs.
Rope burns around her ankles. “He tied her,” Noah said, then saw what Ian was pointing to. He cringed, horrified. Twin pricks on the side of her foot. “Oh my God.”
Jack bolted back a step, going pale. “Fuck. A goddamn snake. I hate snakes.”
“They’re more afraid of us,” Micki said, then her lips twitched. “Maybe not of Jack.”
“From the necrosis around the bite, it was venomous,” Ian said.
Jack paled even more. “F-” He couldn’t even get the oath out.
“Jack?” Carleton turned to study Jack’s face. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Jack managed, but his rapid shallow breathing and pallor said no.
Carleton gave Micki a look of reproof. “It’s not funny,” he said seriously.
Micki took pity on Jack. “Everybody out until we know the house is clear,” she said.
Jack didn’t have to be told again. “Bye. Meet you by the car.”
Carleton checked his watch. “Luckily I have a patient appointment at 6:30, so I’ll leave you all to your snake hunting.” He took a last look at the victim. “This killer is a fascinating personality. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything like this in the literature. I’ll do some in-depth research tonight. Consult with my colleagues.”
“Can you check on Jack?” Micki asked. “I’m feeling a little bad for laughing at him.”
Carleton nodded, a frown of reproach on his face. “I will. And you should.”
“I’ll wait outside with Jack,” Noah said when Carleton and Ian had gone, leaving just himself and Micki. And the victim, of course. He thought of Eve Wilson, sitting outside in his car. “And I want to know how Eve connects to it all. What do you know, Mick?”
“What happened to her, in Chicago… was bad. Any more needs to come from her.”
“Suggestions?”
Micki’s eyes shadowed. “If you run into a wall, call Olivia Sutherland.”
“Olivia?” She was one of their homicide detectives. “How does she connect?”
“She’s a friend of Eve’s family. Just… be kind. And keep Jack muzzled.”
Chapter Six
Monday, February 22, 5:15 p.m.
Detective Olivia Sutherland’s eyes were tearing over her partner’s dinner. “Jennie’s going to kill you when I tell her what you’ve been eating.” She waved the air between them. “Not that I need to. Those onions will do it for me.”
“She’s out of town,” Kane said. “Back on Thursday.” He waggled his brows in a way that always made her laugh. “Could be worse. Could be sardines.”
“God, I’m glad you gave that up.” She shuddered. “I’d forgotten about those.”
“What are you doing for dinner?”
“After that thing, I have no appetite. I got a few pounds left to lose anyway.”
“You’re fine.” Which was what he always said, but Olivia knew differently. She’d gained a little weight after some surgery a few years back and she still wasn’t back to top condition. She’d expected her metabolism would slow down, but she never dreamed it would happen at thirty-one. And of course Kane could eat whatever he wanted and never gain a damn ounce. It wasn’t fair. And it was disrupting her job.
“Which was why I lost that creep this afternoon,” she muttered. To be outrun by a teenager was one thing, but to lose a middle-aged dealer whose primary exercise was the heavy breathing he did while snorting coke… She was still kicking herself.
“Liv, he caught a ride. No way he could have outrun you like that. He’s probably in the wind,” Kane said, speaking of the DA’s star witness, the dealer who’d given her the slip. “We wait until he pops his head up again. DA doesn’t need him till next week.”