Killer Takes All

CHAPTER 28

Thursday, March 10, 2005

11:30 p.m.

Stacy surveyed her apartment, moving from room to room. The crime-scene techs had just finished. Spencer had followed them out. He hadn’t said goodbye.

She swallowed hard. She had known what to expect, of course. The black powder left by the fingerprint techs, the freshly vacuumed floor-done to pick up any trace evidence-the general sense of chaos.

She hadn’t expected the way it had made her feel. Stripped bare. Violated. She found herself on the other side of the process, once again. And again, it sucked.

Stacy reached the bathroom door. She saw that they had taken her shower curtain, and she curved her arms around her middle. Something about that naked tub hit her hard. She knew what the tub floor looked like. Streaked red, the color deepening with the deoxidization process.

Police collected evidence of a crime.

They didn’t clean up after it.

She crossed to the tub, adjusted the showerhead and turned on the water. It jettisoned out of the head, mixing with the blood, turning it pink.

Washing it away.

She watched it swirl down the drain.

“I’m sorry, Stacy.”

She looked over her shoulder. Spencer hadn’t left. He stood in the doorway, his gaze intent. “For what?”

“The mess. The late hour. That a half dozen strangers just tromped through your house. That some wacko broke in and left you that gruesome gift.”

“None of it is your fault.”

“But I can still be sorry.”

Tears pricked her eyes, and she turned quickly back to the tub. She flipped off the shower, then mopped up the water that had sprayed on the floor. She glanced over her shoulder at him. He hadn’t moved.

“You can go,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“You have a friend you can stay with tonight?”

“No need for that.”

“The door-”

“I’ll nail a board over it. It’ll be good for tonight.” She smiled grimly at his concern. “Besides, I’ve got my old friend Mr. Glock to protect me.”

“You always been such a hard-ass, Killian?”

“Pretty much.” Stacy wrung out the towel and laid it across the edge of the tub. “It made me popular around the DPD. Ball-buster Killian, they called me.”

He didn’t smile at her attempt at humor. She made a sound of exasperation. “He’s not coming back, Malone. He may intend for me to die, but not tonight.”

“Invincible, are you?”

“No. But I’m figuring this guy out. It’s a game. He’s engaging me in a battle of wits. And will. His cat to my mouse. If he’d wanted a quick kill, he would have orchestrated it that way.”

“If you won’t go, I’m staying.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

A part of her was touched by his concern for her. Warmed by it.

But the sensation reminded her of Mac. Her partner and friend. Her lover.

Liar. Betrayer.

He’d broken her heart. And worse.

And the way he’d hurt her.

She steeled herself against the memory and crossed to stand in front of him. She met his eyes. “What are you thinking here? That I’m going to fall apart and need a big strong man? You thinking you’re going to get lucky?” She cocked up her chin. “I’ll save you the rude reality check, Malone. You’re not.”

As she stepped around him, he caught her arm, stopping her. “Nice try. But I’m staying.”

She opened her mouth to argue; he cut her off. “The couch will be fine. No sex required, expected or, frankly, desired.”

Her cheeks heated. She knew he could see the color in them.

“I can’t force you to let me stay, but sleeping in the car will be damn uncomfortable, so I’m asking for mercy. What’s it going to be, Killian?”

She folded her arms across her chest. He would do it, too. The man was more pigheaded than she was, for heaven’s sake. She’d done surveillance detail, and spending the night in a car ranked up there with cold showers and stepping in shit with bare feet.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll show you the guest bedroom.”

She found an extra blanket, a never-been-used toothbrush and travel-size tube of Crest.

“A toothbrush, too,” he said when she handed him the things. “I’m overwhelmed.”

“I didn’t want you to stink up the place.”

“You’re all heart.”

“Just so you know, I’m going to lock my bedroom door.”

He removed his shoulder holster and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Have at it, sweetheart. I hope you and Mr. Glock have a great night.”

“Arrogant,” she muttered. “Pigheaded, stubborn, know-it-”

She bit the words back as she realized they all described her. As she shut her bedroom door behind her, she heard him laugh.