“Son of a bitch,” Tom breathed.
“It’s the same nightclub stamp that Ronald Davis had on his hand.” He looked closer at it and then at Tom. “This one is black, but Ronald’s was green.”
“They use a different stamp each night, don’t they?” Tom jotted down the information into his notebook.
“Yeah.” Doug released her hand gently. “I guess we’re heading back to The Coven.”
“Looks like you’ve got an excuse to see that sexy redhead again.” Tom’s gravelly voice echoed through the space. “This makes two patrons that have turned up dead in just over twenty-four hours, and it looks like they were done by the same sicko. Both hacked up with very little blood at the scene.”
“Doesn’t make her a suspect, Tom,” Doug said more defensively than he intended. “All we know is that both were at her club the night they died.”
He stood and stripped the gloves from his hands, unable to look at his partner. He could feel Tom’s gaze on him. Doug handed the gloves to the pasty-faced kid and headed out of the bathroom. If he didn’t get some fresh air soon, he was going to blow.
“No,” Tom said slowly, as he followed him into the darkness. “But it does mean that we need to pay another visit to the club and interview more of the patrons.”
“Absolutely.” Doug sucked in the warm evening air and ran a hand over his face. He glanced around and noted that the area around the construction site wasn’t well lit and had been fenced off, but obviously hadn’t stopped those kids from trying to hang out here. Hands on his hips, he turned to face his partner. “We’ve got two dead kids who hung out at the same club the night they were killed, which makes that nightclub our best lead.”
He started toward the car with Tom by his side and silence lingering.
“The club is connected, and that’s why we’re going back.” He snagged his keys from his pocket. “I’m not going there because of Olivia.”
“Oh,” Tom sang as he tugged the passenger side door open. “So, it’s Olivia now, is it?”
“Just get in the fuckin’ car,” Doug said with the hint of a smile. “The club is probably getting going right about now but shouldn’t be too crowded. Places like that don’t usually fill up until well after ten.”
“Whatever you say, kid.”
Doug started the car and pulled the blue sedan into the street with only one thought on his mind—seeing Olivia again. He wove his way through the heavy city traffic with the ease of experience, and tension settled in his neck as the club came into view.
He double-parked their car right in front of The Coven, and it took about three seconds for the bouncer to spot them. Doug was surprised to see there was already a line of people waiting behind a velvet rope. The line was two or three across and at least thirty deep. All of them were dressed in what one would expect to see at a club called The Coven. Lots of tattoos, chains, black leather, and eye makeup on both men and women.
“Ms. Hollingsworth has quite a popular spot,” Doug said to the bouncer as he stepped onto the sidewalk. “It’s barely nine o’clock, and you’ve already got a solid line.”
“What can I do for you officers?” His deep baritone was barely audible above the noise on the street and the pulsing beat that thundered through the door. He shifted his stance so that his back was to the line of impatient customers, clearly wanting to minimize how much they heard.
“It’s Damien, isn’t it?” Doug asked as he surveyed the enormous man, who nodded silently. “My partner and I have a few more questions for Ms. Hollingsworth, and we’d like to interview the rest of the staff as well.”
Damien tapped his clipboard as he looked from Doug to Tom, and just when Doug thought he would need to lean on him, he simply nodded and waved them in.
“I’ll let her know that you’d like to speak with her.” He snagged the phone from his pocket and texted something, probably to Olivia.
“Question for you,” Doug asked with a nod. “Can we see the stamp you’re using tonight?”
“Sure.” Damien reached into his jacket and pulled out a small red stamp. He pressed it onto the paper on his clipboard. It was the same design as the one Ronald and Brittany had, just a different color. “Tonight’s clubbing is brought to you by the color red.” He grinned and looked at Doug. “Blood red.”
“Right.” Doug gave a sidelong look to Tom. “What color did you use last night? Black?”
“Yup.” He stuck the stamp back in his pocket. “Why?”
Doug nodded toward the line and then looked back to Damien. “I’m assuming you’ll be here for a while. There are a few questions we’d like to ask you, but I’ll come by after I have a chance to speak to Olivia.”
“I’ll be here.” Damien’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded curtly. “No problem.”
When Doug yanked open the heavy wooden door, his senses were immediately assaulted by the deafening music. He and Tom stuck out like sore thumbs; they may as well have worn their uniforms into the place. They were also probably the only guys without makeup on. The strobe light pulsed with the gritty beat of the music, and colors flashed over the dancing mob, making it look like one massive, pulsing creature.
The high arched ceilings reminded him of many old churches he’d been in, complete with gorgeous art deco stained glass. Doug surveyed the surprisingly small space and estimated there were two hundred people, and he bet the capacity was around that number, thus the line outside.
To the left was a long bar crammed with people angling to get their drinks and waving money at the bartenders. Maya, the blond they had interviewed the night before, and a pink-haired broad he had not yet met, were serving drinks. The back wall had massive white star, lit by a black light. The thing took up almost the entire wall, and sitting on top of what had probably been the church’s altar, was the DJ’s spinning station with a woman at the helm.
A little blond waitress who looked like she belonged on a farm was hustling from the bar to red leather VIP booths on the far right side of the place. There were a few tables scattered around the outskirts of the dance floor, but that was the limit of the seating.
They cut through the swarm of people, and when they got to the end of the bar, Maya was standing there, waiting with a big smile and her eyes fixed on Tom. Doug glanced at his partner. As he suspected, Tom was staring right back at the petite bartender.
“Well, hello, officers,” she said. Maya threw her long blond hair over her shoulders and leaned on the bar with both elbows, which accentuated her cleavage. “What brings you back to our little corner of the world?”
Before Doug could answer, a familiar voice floated over him.
“I was going to ask the same question.”
Olivia.
Doug turned to his left and looked into a pair of serious green eyes. Wearing a suit almost identical to the one from last night, she had a powerful, regal air. Her ivory skin glowed amid the flashing lights and gave her an ethereal look. Her gaze searched his and softened before Tom spoke up.
“Looks like you rendered him speechless again,” Tom barked.
“We need to ask you about another patron,” Doug said evenly, trying to ignore his partner. “A young woman was found murdered in Washington Square Park earlier today, and she had your club’s stamp on her hand. It was the black stamp that Damien said you used last night.”
Olivia’s face remained blank, but he sensed something under the surface—a storm behind her eyes. He stuffed his hands in his pockets because he didn’t trust himself. He wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek just as he had in his dreams and kiss her full, rose-colored lips forever.