CHAPTER TEN
LOGAN REMEMBERED ONLY too well. That was why he wanted her to wait outside. But he didn’t want to argue with her, especially in front of Muncie and the other cops, so he nodded. When he turned back to Muncie, it was to find him regarding Presley with interest. Logan swore silently. He hadn’t wanted the detective figuring out who Presley was, but it was clear from the look on his face that Muncie had put two and two together and come up with the answer.
To his relief, though, Muncie didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he jerked his head toward the back of the apartment, indicating for them to follow.
“Sometime during the party, the victim went into the bedroom,” he explained. “While she was in there, the lights flickered and went out. According to her guests, the bedroom door slammed shut and Marissa Day started screaming bloody murder.” He glanced over his shoulder at them. “As you can imagine, the guests absolutely freaked out. They tried to get into the bedroom, but no luck. They said the door wouldn’t budge, not even when a few of the bigger guys tried to kick it in. All they could do was stand out here and listen as Marissa was murdered. By most accounts, the whole thing only took about thirty or forty seconds.”
When they reached the bedroom, Muncie stopped to look at Logan. “Then, as fast as it started, it was over. The door opened of its own accord and the lights came back on. When the guests rushed in, there was no one in the bedroom but Marissa. Or what was left of her. There aren’t any other doors out of this room and the windows don’t open. How the hell did the killer escape?”
Logan ignored the question and walked into the bedroom. Inside the doorway, he stopped as he took in the gruesome scene. Holy shit. Marissa Day hadn’t been killed. She’d been butchered. He’d seen his share of murder scenes, but never anything like this. There was blood everywhere—the bed, the walls, the floor. It was even spattered on the ceiling. He could only imagine the fury it took to do something like this. Del Vecchio was one sadistic bastard.
Behind him, Logan heard Presley gasp. He turned to see her standing there wide-eyed, a look of horror on her face. Dammit, he knew she shouldn’t have come in.
She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Finally, she shook her head, whirled around and ran back into the living room. Logan started to follow, but Muncie’s voice stopped him.
“Is she okay?”
Logan turned to look at the other man. While he would rather have gone after her, he knew the faster he checked the place out, the faster he could get Presley home. She’d be safe out in the living room. There were cops all over the place. “Yeah. She’ll be fine.”
Logan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his EMF meter. Even though he knew what he’d find, he turned it on and did a quick scan of the room anyway. Sure enough, the needle jumped and the thing started beeping like crazy. While Logan knew the meter would show a reading, he hadn’t expected it to be that strong, especially since it had been hours since the murder. He considered the possibility Del Vecchio might still be lurking somewhere, but quickly discounted it. If Del Vecchio was there, he’d more likely be hanging around outside in the crowd, as he had that night when the newspaper photographer snapped his picture.
“What the hell is that thing?” Muncie asked, looking at the meter.
Logan turned off the detector and put it back in his pocket. “Nothing.”
He looked around the room one more time, then went back into the living room. His gut tensed when he didn’t see Presley anywhere, but then he spotted her standing in the hallway and he relaxed again.
He looked at Muncie. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Is it related to this case?”
“In a way.” Logan kept his voice low so that no one else in the room would hear. “I need you to check Carson Del Vecchio’s phone records for the past few months and let me know who he talked to on a regular basis.”
All it would take was a good list of suspects. Then he could get Finley to scrub the list for anyone who might be involved in the paranormal.
Muncie frowned in confusion. “What? Del Vecchio…the first serial killer who…” He broke off and looked at Presley still standing in the hallway, then back at him. “The one she pushed off the balcony?”
Logan nodded.
Muncie’s frown deepened. “What the hell does he have to with this?”
Logan hoped Muncie would be so worried about solving the case that he wouldn’t ask too many questions.
“Look, Muncie, I need you to trust me on this one, okay?”
The other man’s face darkened. “Like hell I will. If you have a reason to think one of Del Vecchio’s buddies is copycatting his murders, then why not say so? What the hell are you hiding?”
Logan didn’t say anything.
“Dammit, Logan!” Muncie snapped loud enough for his fellow detectives and the crimes scene techs to look up from what they were doing. He muttered something under his breath and lowered his voice. “You haven’t been off the force for so long you forgot you can’t sit on info like this. If you know something, you need to tell me.”
Logan clenched his jaw. He knew where Muncie was coming from because he’d been there himself. His friend was frustrated as hell because he was into something that was way over his head, and he knew it. But Logan couldn’t come clean with him. Not yet. Hell, maybe not ever.
“Muncie, you already know this isn’t a simple copycat killer. That’s why you asked me to come here tonight. You know I can help you end this son of a bitch. Well, that’s what I’m trying to do. But I need you to do what I’m asking and not come at me with questions you don’t want the answers to. Okay?”
The muscle in the side of Muncie’s jaw flexed as he wrestled with what Logan was asking. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, I’ll do your digging. But when this is done, I’m going to ask those questions and you’re going to give me the answers.”
Logan inclined his head. “If you still want to know by then, I will.”
Muncie gave him a stiff nod, then walked off to talk to one of the techs. Logan left the detective to finish the worthless examination of the crime scene and went to find Presley.
She was still standing in the same spot, but he was relieved to see she didn’t look quite as pale as she had back in the apartment.
He reached out to brush her hair back from her face. “You okay?”
She gave him a sheepish look. “Yeah. I’m sorry about running out of there. It’s just that there was so much blood and…”
“Shh, don’t worry about it. I didn’t want you going in there in the first place. It’s been a long night. Let’s go home and get some sleep.”
When she nodded, he took her hand and turned to head for the elevator. They hadn’t gone more than a few feet before Presley stopped short. Frowning, Logan turned and was surprised to see the color drain from her face. At first, he thought she was experiencing some kind of delayed reaction to seeing all the blood back in the apartment, but then he realized her gaze was locked on something down the hall.
There was the only thing Logan could think of that would make Presley go almost catatonic like she was—Del Vecchio. Logan jerked around, instinctively reaching for the sawed-off shotgun holstered under his jacket, cops be damned.
But there was no serial-killing ghost standing at the end of the hallway. Just a detective talking to a paramedic.
He turned back to Presley. “Hey, you okay?”
She didn’t answer, but only continued to stare at the two men.
He slipped a finger beneath her chin, gently urging her to look at him. “Presley honey, what’s wrong?”
She stared blankly at him for a moment, then blinked in confusion. “Wh-what?”
“What made you stop? Did you see Del Vecchio?”
She shook her head. “No. I saw that paramedic and…and it took me back to the night Darla was murdered.”
Logan glanced down the hallway where the paramedic was still talking to the detective, then turned back to Presley. “Memory is strange. Sometimes, you’ll see something or someone and it’ll transport you back in time, make you think you’re there again.”
“It probably wouldn’t even have triggered anything if he wasn’t the same paramedic who showed up at my place that night,” she murmured. “I remember him leaning over me before I passed out. It all came back to me when I saw him just now and for a minute, I was lying on that floor again, bleeding and terrified I was going to die.”
Logan put his arms around her and held her close. He hated seeing Presley so frightened. He was great at shooting monsters, but when it came to saying the right thing in situations like this, he was crappy. He wanted to kill Del Vecchio all over again for the hell that asshole had put her through.
“You’re with me now and you’re safe. Del Vecchio’s never going to hurt you again.”
Taking her hand, he started for the elevator again. This time, though, he was the one who stopped.
“What is it?” Presley asked.
He looked at her. “Are you sure he’s the same paramedic?”
She nodded. “Positive. Why?”
Logan didn’t answer. He was too busy thinking of what Dillon Reynolds had said about Del Vecchio having a partner in crime. He knew it sounded crazy, but he couldn’t shake the idea the paramedic might be the guy. Stamford was a city with a lot of paramedics. What were the chances of the same one responding to both Presley’s apartment the night she was attacked and that of the serial killer’s latest victim? A lot of paramedics could work their whole career and never respond to even one scene like this, much less two.
Turning around, he led Presley back into the apartment and walked straight up to Muncie. The detective was talking to the young cop who had been standing guard at the door when they’d first arrived. He stopped talking to look at Logan questioningly
“I have someone I want you to check out, see if his number shows up on Del Vecchio’s phone records,” Logan said.
“Who?” Muncie asked.
“The paramedic talking to the detective out in the hallway.”
Muncie’s mouth tightened. “You have a reason to think he has something to do with these murders or you following another hunch?”
Why the hell couldn’t Muncie ever make anything easy? “I have a feeling about him, that’s all.”
“A feeling?” The uniform cop looked at Logan incredulously. “Detective, there’s no way that paramedic could get past all the guests and into the bedroom to murder someone, then get back out without anyone seeing him. Not unless he can make himself invisible.”
Muncie gave the other cop a dark look that immediately shut the younger man up, before turning back to Logan. “I don’t have a clue where this is heading, but I’ve gone on less. I’ll check him out, see if there’s a connection between him and…the other guy.”
Logan nodded. “Thanks.”
Out in the hallway, the paramedic was still talking to the detective and Logan led Presley past the two men as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. Though the paramedic glanced at them, he didn’t give any indication he recognized Presley.
“Do you think the paramedic could be involved in this?” she asked after the elevator doors closed and they were alone.
Logan shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’ve always trusted my gut and right now it’s telling me to check him out.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t understand. If he was Del Vecchio’s partner, why not let me die that night?”
“Maybe that’s not his thing,” Logan said. “Maybe he got off on looking at Del Vecchio’s handiwork.”
She grimaced. “That’s sick.”
It was also the perfect arrangement, not to mention reason enough to bring the serial killer back from the dead.
Read “Facing Fears” Episode Five of EDGE OF DARKNESS Now!
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Paige Tyler is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy, romantic suspense and paranormal romance. She and her very own military hero (also known as her husband) live on the beautiful Florida coast with their adorable fur baby (also known as their dog). Paige graduated with a degree in education, but decided to pursue her passion and write books about hunky alpha males and the kick-butt heroines who fall in love with them.
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