He hadn’t exactly been in the mood for forever. In the mood for some good f**ks? Yes.
“I shouldn’t have told you as much as I did.” Her rounded jaw hardened a bit. “You shouldn’t have dated her.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t date her until you stopped treating her.” So no conflict of interest. He’d been careful. He always covered his ass. The last thing he wanted was a lawsuit. After his divorce, he couldn’t handle another cash-flow problem.
He’d almost lost the practice in that divorce. What had he expected? His ex was a divorce attorney. She’d known exactly how to hang him out to dry.
Thanks for taking everything, sweetheart.
Good thing Evelyn had been there to help him out financially. She was always there to help.
“Katherine still needs treatment. So much…” Evelyn exhaled. “But we can’t help those who don’t want to be helped, right?”
That was Evelyn’s mantra.
He turned away and headed for his desk. His first patient would be in at ten o’clock. He’d focus, get through the day, then go find some sexy, dark-haired woman at a club. He’d screw her, pretend she was Katherine, and all would be right in his world.
Or mostly right.
He frowned. There was a white box in the middle of his desk, right next to a vase full of fresh roses. He hated flowers of any sort. Just because Valentine’s Day was drawing near, it didn’t mean he had to have damn roses in his office. Vendors were hawking the roses on every street corner of the city.
I don’t want them in here.
Trent would have to make sure the receptionist knew not to put any more in his office. “When did this arrive?” he asked as he stared down at the package.
Evelyn was almost at the door. She looked over her shoulder. “When did what arrive?”
He held up the box. Shrugging, Evelyn said, “Maybe one of the secretaries brought it in.” She left the room with her usual no-nonsense stride.
Trent studied the package as the scent of the roses filled his nose. The white box wasn’t from their usual delivery service. There was no writing on it—it almost looked like one of the boxes from the bakery on the corner. Maybe it was a pastry delivery. One of the receptionists could be trying to get on his good side.
He slid his finger under the box’s tab and lifted up the top. The box slid in his hand as he eased into his seat, and rose petals spilled onto the surface of his desk. “What the hell…?” Trent began.
Then he saw the photographs, and he couldn’t speak at all.
His fingers began to tremble. The first photograph was a close-up of a woman’s chest. There was so much blood. Someone had driven a knife into her heart. His own heart was racing so hard that it seemed close to bursting from his chest. His body felt ice cold as he stared at that horrible photo.
The second photo showed the woman’s full body. The slices on her arms. The ropes that circled her ankles and wrists. The duct tape over her mouth.
Her eyes were closed, her hair tangled around her face.
A face he knew too well.
A face he’d once loved.
A face Trent had thought he desperately hated.
Amy. His ex-wife.
Nausea rolled in his stomach as sweat poured from him. Not Amy. Not Amy.
“Evelyn!” he roared, then dropped the photos and vomited into the trash can.
The elevator slowly ascended in the high-rise office building. Dane’s eyes were on the blinking control panel lights. Just a few more floors until Lancaster & Knight Psychiatry.
“We’d just found the connection between them,” Mac said at his side. “The mother was in to ID the body, and she mentioned Amy’s ex to Ronnie…”
Amy’s ex. Also known as Dr. Trent Lancaster.
“The lady told Ronnie that the divorce was bitter. Trent had a wandering eye, and Amy was out for blood in court.”
Only Amy was the one who bled.
“Then the precinct got the call from the shrink’s office,” Mac said.
Two crime-scene techs were behind them. Silent. Watchful.
“And Trent got the photos,” Dane finished. He’d headed over to meet Mac as soon as he got the order from the captain.
Katherine still had protection, tagalong uniforms who’d be with her for the day, while he had an appointment with the good doctor.
“Why didn’t Katherine get the photos this time?” Mac wondered as he rolled his shoulders. “Why did she get the call but not the package?”
“Maybe our perp couldn’t get to her because we were there.” Made sense to Dane. Did the SOB see that I was there last night?
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding. Dane headed into the hallway, walking fast. Mac was right by his side. Mac shoved open the door of Lancaster & Knight, and two women near the reception desk began rushing toward them.
Dane and Mac flashed their badges. Relief washed over the women’s faces as their shoulders slumped. They looked pale and shaken.
“Where’s Dr. Lancaster?” Dane asked.
The one with short blonde hair pointed to the right. “In Dr. Knight’s office.” She grabbed his arm before he could pass her. “Please, can we go home? I don’t want to be here any longer.”
No, unfortunately, she couldn’t leave. Not until he and Mac had questioned her. He inclined his head to Mac and saw his partner flash his trademark calming smile. That smile could work magic.
“Just let me ask you a few questions, ma’am,” Mac began as he gently took the blonde’s arm.
Dane made his way toward Dr. Knight’s office. The door was ajar, but he rapped lightly on the heavy wood to announce his presence before he headed inside the room. A leather couch and two chairs were to the right. A gleaming desk waited to the left. A laptop and some wilting roses were on a corner of the desk.
A woman with sleek blonde hair, which was twisted into a coil at the nape of her neck, spun toward him. Trent was seated in a chair beside her, his head hanging low, his body shaking.
“I’m Detective Black,” Dane said, offering his badge, “and I understand you found a package.”
Trent’s head jerked up. “You.” He surged to his feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Dane kept his expression blank. “I’m the lead detective on your ex-wife’s murder case.”
“You’re in burglary.”
“No, I’m a homicide detective.” That was all the guy needed to know. Because I could be talking to a killer. As a guy with access to both Katherine and Amy Evans, Trent had made it to the top of his suspect list. Now, if he could just connect Trent to Savannah Slater…One step at a time. Dane narrowed his eyes. “Where are the pictures?”