Die for Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (34 page)

“Each time he goes after someone else, you have the guilt, don’t you?”

Katherine froze. “Yes.”

This is why she wanted to see me. She wants someone to understand why she isn’t telling the police. She works with the cops, day in and day out, but she also sees the bodies. She doesn’t want to wind up as a victim in her own morgue.

“How do you live with it?”

“You don’t sleep. You jump at every sound. Then, one day, you walk into a police station and tell the world who you are.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Because you’ll get to the point where you can’t hold back any longer. You’ll want to stop him more than you want anything else.”

Ronnie gazed helplessly back at her. The struggle was plain to see on her face.

“You have to get to that point,” Katherine told her with a sad smile. “No one can make you do it.” She reached out for the door.

The beeping of the machines finally slowed. “Bring them in,” Ronnie said.

Katherine opened the door and waved in the detectives. Dane and Mac entered, faces grim.

Ronnie pulled in a deep breath. “Evelyn Knight…she was the one who took me. I didn’t even realize it was her at first because she was still distorting her voice, but after the phone call to you—”

“When I heard you scream,” Dane cut in.

Ronnie shook her head. “That wasn’t me. She never took the duct tape off my mouth. That was her scream. She said that she hadn’t let her other victims scream either.”

Savannah. Amy.

“She stopped using the voice distorter after she got off the phone with you. I guess because…it was time for me to die, and she wanted me to know that she was the one killing me.” Ronnie swallowed. Mac eased closer to her. “But then she heard something upstairs. She thought someone else was in her house.” Her voice dropped. “He was there.”

“Valentine? You
saw
him?” Mac pushed.

“I didn’t look at his face.” It was said with shame. “I didn’t want to see because if I did…I was afraid he’d kill me.”

Dane glanced over at Katherine.

“He wasn’t there to kill me. He was there for Evelyn. He let me go, and I heard her scream.”

Goose bumps had risen on Katherine’s arms.

“He’s got her,” Ronnie said, “and he’s killing her.”

Evelyn was on a table. Her wrists and ankles were still bound with rope. The duct tape was still over her mouth. Evelyn struggled
fiercely. If she could just get the duct tape off her mouth, then she could make him understand.

He appeared before her. A bright light had been positioned right over her head, so, beneath that light, she could see him perfectly.

He looked different from all the pictures she’d seen online.

Not what she’d expected at all.

But Evelyn wasn’t disappointed. She could never be disappointed in him.

He had a knife in his hand. He raised that knife, and she should have tensed. Should have tried to cry out.

She just stared up at him.

He won’t hurt me. He’ll see me for what I am.
The knowledge was certain and sure within her. She knew him better than anyone else. Better than Katherine could ever hope.

The others had screamed. They’d fought.

He’d fought back.

Her struggles were gone now. Her body lay limp and relaxed on that hard table. She stared up at him, with all of her certainty and love shining in her eyes.

He brought the knife closer. “You should be afraid.”

She shook her head.
No.

“Then you’re even more screwed up than I am.”

He took the knife and sliced it along her left arm. When the blood started to flow, she refused to cry.

He smiled down at her, then he asked, “Do you want to die?”

Pain pulsed in her arm. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d been cut. As a teen, she’d cut herself plenty of times.

She’d felt alive then.

She felt alive now.

“Do you?” He pressed, sounding mildly curious.

She wouldn’t shake her head. Wouldn’t nod. If he wanted her answer, he’d have to let her talk.
Take off the tape.

“You think you’re the smart one, don’t you, Dr. Knight?”

He was putting the knife down, so, yes, she rather did think she was smart.

His fingers came up, strong, long, golden, and pulled the tape from her mouth. She barely felt the tug against her lips.

“Got some last words for me?”

“Not…last.” She hated that he’d drugged her. It had been so unnecessary. But at least he hadn’t given her a dose that was too strong. Not like she’d given to Amy and Savannah.

I was helping them. Making their deaths easier.

He frowned down at her. She smiled back up at him. She’d enjoyed the way he looked before, but this was even better. Wonderful. Perfect.

“I know you.” She whispered this secret.

One brow rose. “Do you.” Not a question.

But she responded as if it were. “I know so much about you…your life…your kills.”

He stiffened. “Give someone a fistful of degrees and they think they know everything.”

“Not everything.” She shook her head. Tried to control her smile.
It’s him.
“Only you.”

He wasn’t reaching for the knife. He was studying her as if she were some kind of mystery.

He didn’t understand yet. She was his other half. The person he needed.

Not Katherine.

“I started studying your case when I was finishing up my PhD. I read everything about you, did as much research as I could.” Her words came faster. “Then Katherine—Kat—I saw her by chance
one day in the Quarter. I knew who she was—the dark hair didn’t change her. We started talking. I told her what I did for a living.” And Katherine had been curious…and hopeful.

“Kat told you about me.” Now there was
definite
interest in his voice.

She nodded. “She didn’t want to talk about you.” Anger cracked through the words. “But I told her it was necessary for her therapy to progress. I
made
her tell me.” Evelyn had pried the details out of Katherine, one precious secret at a time.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re one of them.”

Now he was disgusted. No, no that wouldn’t work. “Them?”

His hand lifted. Stroked her cheek. Sent a lick of heat unfurling in her belly. “Those broken women who get off,” he murmured, “on fucking killers.”

She flinched at that. Jerked against the rope. “No! Haven’t you seen what I’ve done?” And she was hurt by his accusation.

She knew him so well.

Couldn’t he try to know her better?

“What you’ve done is…” His fingers were still at her cheek. “You’ve stirred up the past. Started a new manhunt for me.
Killed
, pretending to be me.”

Laughter slipped from her. “I gave you a present. I made everyone remember you again.”

He shook his head. “You made them hunt me. Until you started, I was just a memory to most folks. You made me a nightmare again.”

Ah, yes, he did understand. She stared into his eyes and whispered, “You’re welcome.”

Dane paced the narrow hospital hallway. Everywhere he turned, there were fucking red, heart-shaped balloons or bundles of roses being delivered to patients. They were like slaps in his face. Valentine, taunting him. “Where would he take her?” Dammit, Valentine wasn’t slipping away again. “Where?”

The profiler eased up beside him. Katherine and Mac were still in Ronnie’s room, talking quietly with the ME.

“Valentine is angry with Evelyn,” Marcus said. “He’s going to punish her.”

Dane whirled to face him. “Evelyn was the one who drugged Katherine.” She had been there,
right there,
in that café. Evelyn had probably slipped the drugs into Katherine’s drink when she’d been distracted.

“That’s what will anger him the most,” Marcus said with a nod. “Evelyn tried to hurt the one person Valentine thinks he loves.”

Valentine’s house was gone. Blown to hell. Evelyn’s house was under a lockdown by the police.

Where else would the man go?

“Evelyn made it personal by attacking Katherine, so he’ll make his own attack on her have extra significance…”

Extra significance.

Dane stilled. “Her office.”

Because Katherine had been there in that office, revealing all of her secrets about Valentine.

None of the staff would be there. The place had been shut down because of Trent’s death. It would be empty, deserted at this hour.

And Dane already knew there weren’t security cameras on that floor.

The perfect kill spot.

“Mac!” Dane stormed back into the hospital room. “I think I know where the bastard is hiding.”

And killing.

“You made a mistake picking Kat,” Evelyn told him. She wished he would cut away the ropes, but they’d get to that soon enough. For now, they’d talk. She’d been wanting to talk to him for so long. “She never understood you.”

Frowning now, he bent over her and shoved up the sleeves of her shirt. His hands ran over her upper arms, and she knew he was feeling the old scars.

“I survived,” she whispered, “just like you. Do you know what I’ve done for you?” she asked. “I
killed
for you.”

He smiled at her, revealing perfect white teeth. “No, you did that for you. Because you’re broken and twisted. You’ve got a monster in you. One that’s been wanting to get out for a long time.”

“No, no, I was helping you—”

“I heard people become shrinks because they’re screwed up inside.” He reached for his knife. “That’s why people become serial killers, too. I mean, I know I’m twisted. I shouldn’t like killing. I shouldn’t
enjoy
it when I see the life fade from someone’s eyes…but I do.” He lifted the knife. Watched the light glint off the blade. “But what are you going to do? We are who we are.”

“Don’t!” He was coming at her with the knife.

“You cut yourself when you were a teen,” he said, the words a dark rumble. “What set you off, Evelyn? What twisted you?”

She remembered the old house she’d once lived in. With the beautiful roses that her mother had loved. “My mother died when I was five.”

He waited. Watched.

“My father remarried a few years later, and I
hated
her.”

His eyes didn’t blink.

“When my father was out of town, she’d have men over. I told him. He didn’t believe me. No one ever believed me.” Softer.

“Those men, what did they do?”

Just one man. “He hurt me.” He’d been drunk. He’d caught her alone. His hands had been big and pale and freckled.

She’d bled.

Her stepmother had laughed when she told her the story. Denise with her long, dark hair and her pale, perfect skin.

Denise had stopped laughing when Evelyn had pushed her down the stairs. An accident, or so the police had thought.

They’d thought wrong.

“Have there been others?” he asked quietly. “Others you’ve killed?”

His eyes said he knew about her stepmother.

Did he know about the man she’d picked up at the bar on her twenty-first birthday? When she’d changed her mind about the pickup and become afraid, he’d been angry. He’d pushed for more from her. Tried to take more than she wanted to give, and she’d pulled her knife from her purse. She always kept her knife close. She needed it to feel safe.