Piper seemed to pale even more.
Trace lifted his head. “Who was it?”
Noah stalked toward them.
“Y-you know,” Piper whispered.
Skye frowned at her. Piper was shaking now. Trembling.
Piper glanced back at Drake. “I want to go. Please…please let me go…”
His fingers settled on her shoulder. “You had a partner at the pier,” Drake said. “Is that the guy who had the dog tags?”
“D-don’t…I’m afraid!” Piper cried out. Her stare slid toward Noah.
He’d halted a few feet from Piper. He stared at her, heavy suspicion on his face and in his eyes.
Skye’s gaze darted between them. Something just wasn’t right there.
“Who had the tags?” Trace demanded.
“The cop!” Piper screamed. Her hand came up and slapped over her mouth, as if she were horrified by the words she’d just said.
A cold chill slid down Skye’s spine.
“What cop?” Trace asked, only now, his voice was lethally soft.
Piper’s hands dropped to her sides. Her shoulders slumped, as if she were defeated, and she answered, “A detective came to see me in Atlanta. He found out about you and Anna Jean, and he told me that you were going to attack again. He said—he said we had to stop you.”
“Describe this cop.” The order came from Noah.
“E-early thirties. Blond hair. Dark eyes. Good-looking.”
Alex? Skye’s heart beat faster. “What was his name?” She asked.
Piper’s lips pressed together.
“His name,” Trace shouted.
Piper jerked. “He’s a police officer,” she whispered. “He wanted to help. He said that he’d investigated you. That he knew who you were, deep inside. He knew what you’d do.” Piper’s eyes gleamed as she cast a desperate glance toward Skye. “I just didn’t want you turning out like Anna Jean!”
Anna Jean. A woman long dead, but haunting them all.
“Alex Griffin,” Skye said softly, but…this feels wrong.
Piper’s head moved in the slightest of nods.
Trace’s face grew even harder. “You’re telling me that you gave my dog tags to Detective Griffin?”
“He said he needed them for the investigation—”
“One of those dog tags turned up at a murder scene,” Trace said, cutting across her words. “The dead man had been stabbed in the heart, and the knife wounds in his throat were so severe that he was nearly decapitated.”
Piper gasped.
“The cop?” Noah edged toward Trace. “Are you really thinking it’s him?”
A faint line had appeared between Trace’s brows. “He was downstairs at my building when we got the call about Sara. He couldn’t have killed her.”
“If he’d had help, he could’ve done it.” This flat response came from Drake.
“I’ll be damned.” Trace’s eyes widened as something seemed to click for him. Then he said, “The wounds were different. There were hesitation wounds on Sharpe’s neck and on Sara’s neck. Those wounds weren’t on Parker. I thought it was just easier for the killer to take out Parker but—”
“But it could’ve been two killers,” Skye finished, understanding what he meant.
Trace nodded curtly.
“No!” Piper’s high-pitched cry. “Cops protect people. They don’t—they don’t—”
“Give someone the right motivation,” Claire’s quiet voice was a direct contrast to Piper’s, “and they’ll do anything.” Her lips twisted in disgust. “I’ve seen plenty of cops turn away from the law. I’ve seen them do things that would give you nightmares—and they did ‘em just for a little money.”
But Skye had been so convinced that Alex was a good cop. “He wanted to help me,” she said. “He worked so hard to help.”
“And he wants me out of your life,” Trace told her. “Because he thinks I’m like the monster who killed his sister.”
Skye wasn’t so sure of that. Alex stuck to the law. He was a good guy, wasn’t he?
Trace’s phone rang then, startling her. Trace yanked it out of his pocket. “Look, Reese,” he said into the phone, “this isn’t a good time. I need to—What?”
Fear flashed across Trace’s face.
“Where the hell are you? Yeah, yeah, all right, listen to me, okay? Stay there. No, don’t try to face him yourself. This is personal. Stay there. I am on my way.” He ended the call and his stare immediately locked on Skye.
“What’s happening?” Noah’s body was as tense as Trace’s.
“Reese thinks someone tailed him back to his apartment.”
Skye’s breath caught. Not Reese.
Trace returned to Skye’s side. “If you want to hurt me,” Trace said, his voice a rasp, “you hurt the people close to me.” His fingers slid over her cheek. “You and Reese. You two are my family.”
She caught his hand. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, hell, no.” He gave a hard, negative shake of his head. “You might think Alex won’t hurt you, but I know otherwise.”
If they even were dealing with Alex. “Call him,” Skye said, the words flying from her. “Call Alex. Find out where he is.”
Trace dialed quickly. She barely breathed while she waited and—
“No answer, and I’m not wasting any more time—time that Reese may not have.”
She was really supposed to what? Wait there? He could just get pissed. She was going with him. “I’m coming.”
“Skye—”
“Please!” Piper’s desperate cry. More tears were on her cheeks. “I don’t even know what’s happening, but I’m scared to death. I-I don’t trust them!” She pointed to Trace, to Noah, to Drake. Then her gaze came back to Skye. “I came here because of you. I wanted to help you, the way I couldn’t help my own sister. Wherever you go, I want to go, too.”
“No damn way,” was Trace’s instant reply.
Piper trembled.
“Stay here, Skye,” Trace said. His voice lowered, “Please, baby, I’d go crazy if I thought he could get to you. Stay here and Drake—you protect her, understand? With your life.”
Drake nodded.
“If Drake’s got guard duty, then I’m your back-up,” Noah said as he moved to Trace’s side.
But Claire raced across the room then. She grabbed Noah’s arm, leaned up, and whispered something into his ear.
His shoulders stiffened. He drew back and gazed down at her. After a moment, he nodded.
Skye didn’t like this. Trace and Noah were headed for the door. Claire had wrapped her arms around Piper’s shoulders as she tried to comfort the other woman.
Drake was still casting suspicious glances Piper’s way.
“H-he put a gun to my head,” Piper mumbled to Claire. “And he yanked me into the water.”
That would explain her drenched clothing and hair.
But…a gun to her head?
Her gaze jerked to Trace. He was steps away from the door. “Come back to me!” She called out. He’d better. He had to return to her.
Trace paused at the door. “I’ll be back, baby, safe and sound.” He spared her a glance, giving her a hard nod. “Count on it.”
Trace will keep his promise. He always kept his promises to her. She fought not to show the fear that clawed through her. “And you make sure that Reese is safe, too.” Reese had faced too much danger on their behalf.
Then Trace was gone. The door closed softly behind him. The alarm reset with a faint beep.
Piper kept crying. Drake raked a hand over his face.
“Come upstairs,” Claire told Piper. “I’ve got some extra clothes in my bag up there. You can dry off.”
Piper let Claire lead her to the stairs, but she cast one more suspicious glance back at Drake. “You…you really killed my sister?”
His jaw hardened. He nodded.
“You bastard,” she whispered and her face contorted with pain.
Sweat covered Reese’s forehead as he glanced out of his apartment window. He was up on the second floor, and the street below him was dead quiet.
The storm had stopped. Finally.
But the danger hadn’t passed.
He gazed down at the street. The street lamps barely provided any illumination, their glow was too weak. Shadows seemed to move down there.
His eyes narrowed.
Death was coming tonight. Hunting.
Hurry the hell up, Trace.
The phone behind him began to ring.
“I know someone was with her on that pier,” Drake said, his shoulder brushing against Skye’s arm. “The jackass knocked me in the head and dumped me in the water.”
“But in all of the other kills, the attacker used a knife. No one drowned.” The whole situation just didn’t make sense to Skye.
Drake glanced up at the ceiling. “She knows more than what she’s saying.” He started to march for the stairs.
Skye stopped him. “You’re the last person she wants to see now.” There had been no missing the hate and fury on Piper’s face. Skye gave a decisive nod. “I’ll do it, okay? I’ll talk to her.”
“I don’t think you should get anywhere near her,” he snapped out. “Trace asked me to stay because he wanted you safe. If she’s anything like her viper of a sister—”
“You loved her, didn’t you?” Skye asked.
She heard a faint creak from upstairs, as if a door had opened.
Drake blanched. “What? What are you insane?”
“Maybe it wasn’t love,” Skye allowed. “But maybe it was as close as you’d ever come. You cared about Anna Jean, but you still had to kill her.”
“She was going to kill me! She had a gun to my head!”
“And you had a gun to Piper’s.”
His eyes squeezed shut. “She’s in my nightmares.” All the emotion had drained from his voice. “Every night. I close my eyes, and I see her dying in that snow. An angel with blood for wings.”
“Are we really sure a cop is the one we’re after?” Noah asked.
Trace had the Jag’s gas pedal shoved to the ground. “No, we won’t be sure until we see him with our own eyes.” Because all of the puzzle pieces weren’t fitting for Trace.
The way the evidence had been planted at Parker’s murder scene. Trace’s shirt…the dog tag. All of that indicated that the killer had been trying to frame him, and a cop would know just how to set up a frame job.
But then something had happened. The killer had struck again. Too quickly? He’d gone right after Sara.
Why?
His hold on the steering wheel tightened. Maybe the cop had worried that Sara knew too much, that she’d turn on him.
So did you have someone else kill her? Someone who hesitated?
Trace raced through a yellow light. He needed to go faster.
“I should be in jail,” Drake said. “That’s where I belong. I fucking killed her.” His breath rasped out. “That’s what she tells me, every single night.”
Did Trace have those same nightmares? Only, for him, was it the ghost of Tucker who came back and haunted him?
Another creak came from upstairs. Skye’s gaze rose. Is Piper listening? Skye didn’t want the other woman to hear anymore.
Her fingers slid down Drake’s arm, and she headed for the stairs.
Sure enough, Piper stood at the top of those stairs. Her hands were wrapped tightly around her stomach.
Skye slowly climbed the stairs. Piper backed up, sliding into the apartment. She held the door open for Skye.
“All this time,” Piper whispered, “and I blamed the wrong man.”
“You didn’t know,” Skye told her as she closed the door behind her. She glanced quickly around the apartment, but she didn’t see Claire. The bathroom door was closed. Maybe Claire was in there.
“You think you know everything,” Piper continued, her stare glassy. “Then the truth comes along, and it rips your world right apart.”
A muffled cry reached Skye’s ears. She frowned. That cry had come from the bathroom. “Claire?” Skye called.
“She wasn’t feeling well,” Piper told her, blinking, and glancing toward the bathroom door. “She said she kept seeing her sister.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “I guess they took both our sisters away, didn’t they?”
Skye hurried toward the bathroom. She knocked lightly on the wooden door. “Claire?”
The floor squeaked behind Skye.
She lifted her hand and knocked on the door. “Claire, are you okay?”
Something sharp and hard—a knife?—pressed into Skye’s back, freezing her. Terrifying her.
“I wouldn’t worry so much about Claire. She’s already dead but you…you still have plenty of time to suffer.” Piper’s breath blew against Skye’s ear. “And don’t even think about screaming, bitch. You raise your voice above a whisper, and I will slit your throat in an instant.”
Trace slammed on the brakes. The Jag stopped with a squeal of its tires. “You take the back,” Trace ordered Noah as they jumped from the car.
“And you storm the front.” Noah inclined his head. “Just like old times.”
Screw old times. Trace had taken his weapon from the car. After Sharpe’s death, he’d made sure to keep the gun close. He checked the weapon. Loaded. Ready. Then he ran toward the apartment. Reese should be upstairs, waiting and—