Chapter Four

“Katrina, we need to talk.” Colin set his mug on the coffee table.

Emily had stayed late to make sure she was okay, and Francine—her cook and housekeeper—had left roasted tomato bisque and a warm, gooey Gruyere Panini. Colin had joined her for dinner, and she’d polished off her food.

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Well into the night, to be precise.

After driving her to pick up her car, they’d talked for hours. Now, Angus’s little snores were making her envious. The puppy was fast asleep on the dog bed she’d set in a corner of the living room. What she really wanted was to take a hot bath then fall into bed. Unfortunately, Colin had insisted on hearing every last detail.

“Not about that.” He clasped her hand, something he’d been doing a lot lately. Ever since her breakup with Chad. “About our future.”

Our future? The mug in her other hand froze halfway to her lips.

“We’re not kids anymore,” he continued. “You’re thirty-three, and I’m thirty-six. Your birthday is right around the corner.”

“I know that.” They’d grown up together and, despite his occasional snobbishness, had been friends for over twenty years. The food she’d just eaten soured in her stomach.

He squeezed her hand. “It’s time for us to settle down and have a family.”

She blinked. Surely, she’d misheard him. “What exactly do you mean?”

“I mean, you and me. We’re a good match. A good fit.”

“A good fit?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You make it sound like a business merger.”

“You know what I mean.” The look on his face became more determined, and the souring food in her belly turned into pure vinegar. “We come from the same backgrounds. We understand each other, and I would never hurt you.”

“What you mean is, you would never hurt me like Chad did.” She tugged her hand from his and set down her mug. The constant reminder of her latest failed relationship and very public breakup was a thorn in her side that she couldn’t pull out.

He nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. You know I don’t need your money.”

The tightness in her chest was her heart shriveling. Was this really what her personal life had boiled down to, a business transaction? That can’t be all there is. She shook her head. “I want to marry for love.” The words sounded naive, even to her. Especially considering how she’d all but given up on that ever happening, and he knew it because she’d vented to him about it. “But you don’t love me. Not like that, anyway.”

“I love you as a friend, and I respect you. I know you feel the same about me.” When he cupped her face, she willed her body to offer up some kind of physical response. It didn’t. Ironically, being in Agent Andrews’s arms had. “We’re different from other people, and we understand each other. We can make this work. We’re not getting any younger.”

That much was true, and until that moment she hadn’t realized that even men had biological clocks, and Colin had decided his was ticking away.

She dragged a hand down her face. Hers was, too. That didn’t mean she was ready to compromise all her hopes and dreams.

He let his hand drop. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that a marriage of convenience isn’t right for me, especially not for money reasons. I refuse to believe that I’m only destined to be with someone whose bank account rivals my own. That would pretty much eliminate all but one percent of the world’s male population. Maybe more.” It might also eliminate the possibility of ever finding someone who truly loved her. Her parents had married for love, and she always assumed she would, too.

“You should consider it, anyway. In time, I think you’ll change your mind. I’ll call you.” He leaned over and before she could turn away, he kissed her on the lips.

Again, not a flicker of sexual awareness. A moment later, he was gone. That was it. Business meeting over. Not that she would actually consider it, but was this what a marriage to Colin would be like? All business and no passion?

Yes, the nausea in her belly warned.

She stood and went to the window. It was too dark outside to see much except the soft glow of lights on the Tappan Zee Bridge. Despite rejecting Colin’s offer, she was tired of being alone without someone to share her life with. She’d even considered online dating under a made-up name. That would have been the only way to meet men without constantly wondering if they were secretly calculating her net worth. But she didn’t like the idea of being dishonest. Too bad she couldn’t pick the perfect guy from a catalogue.

It was tough, especially with all the world watching her every move.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her slumped posture. She had to stay strong. Whatever happened, she was not marrying Colin.

Wind buffeted the windows and heavy rain obscured most of the view. She couldn’t make them out in the darkness, but knew the Hudson was alive and dancing with whitecaps. It never ceased to amaze her how the river could be as shiny and reflective as a mirror one minute, rough and violent the next. Beautiful but at times, deadly.

Images of Rebecca Garman’s body flashed before Kat’s eyes, and a shiver ran through her. There was no possible way to imagine the pain that woman must have suffered at the hands of her killer.

Angus padded over and dropped his rubber toy on the floor for her to toss. One look at his angelic, furry face was enough to cleanse her mind of the terrible images. Temporarily, anyway.

She picked up the toy, shaking it like a rattle. When she threw it into the foyer, he barked with glee and scampered after it.

Kat shook her head, still trying to make sense of Colin’s baffling and emotionless proposal. Had she said or done something to make him believe she’d actually take him up on his offer? For some inexplicable reason, Dayne Andrews’s face flitted before her eyes.

He was around her age, maybe a few years older. In addition to his raw masculinity and tough good looks, he had a power and strength she was unaccustomed to. Men in her social circles had power, but that came from their checkbooks. Dayne’s came from an inherent confidence and self-assuredness. That kind of man wouldn’t pull any punches. He’d say what he meant and mean what he said. Her father always told her that was a good quality.

Angus returned with his toy, so she tossed it once more, watching his little legs scrabble on the marble tile floor. When the puppy didn’t come back, she went in search of him and found him sniffing around his empty food bowl. She went to get the bag then realized she’d forgotten to get more at the shelter.

“I’m not going to let you go hungry tonight.” She grabbed her keys from the table in the foyer then gave Angus a quick pat. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good boy and don’t chew anything you shouldn’t while I’m gone.” Trusting the little guy to follow her order was probably foolish, but she’d only be gone a few minutes. Luckily, he’d already peed his little heart out on the driveway before the rain started pounding. The puppy gave a high-pitched bark. “I’ll take you out again before bedtime.”

Seconds later, she drove through the gate. The deluge impeded visibility, but as she neared the Haven’s main entrance, she could make out a car parked in one of the designated employee parking spaces. The vehicle belonged to Amy, her manager. But the Haven closed its doors to the public at six sharp. Amy should have gone home hours ago.

The Haven was completely dark inside. Odd, since Amy was still here. She could have forgotten to turn the night-lights on. Then again, in the two years since the woman had been hired, she’d never once forgotten. There was a first time for everything. Like fainting.

Talk about embarrassment. Being physically and mentally strong was important to her. Fainting definitely did not fall into that category. Nor does falling into an FBI agent’s arms.

She shut off the engine and stepped out, splashing through puddles as she ran. Water soaked her hair and dripped into her eyes. She unlocked the door and went inside. “Amy?”

A hint of light that hadn’t been there before now glowed from the corridor behind the reception desk. She flipped on the light switch, illuminating the reception space. “Amy?”

She went down the hallway. A few feet from the kibble room, the lights went out. Goose bumps prickled her back and neck. Slowly, she reached inside and flipped on the wall switch.

“Amy?” She walked farther into the room, between two rows of shelves. At the end of the shelving unit, she turned and nearly tripped.

Kat gasped. Amy lay on the floor.

A dark blur moved from the shadows. She screamed. A man wearing a black ski mask over his face slammed into her, shoving her backward against a shelf. Something toppled down and hit her attacker in the head.

Move your ass! She raced into the corridor. A hand grabbed her arm, wrenching it back so hard, she screamed again.

He spun her then gripped her arms and shook her. “Where is it?” Furious dark brown eyes bored into her. “Where the fuck is it?”

Dogs in the adjacent kennel barked. Her pulse raced, and she sucked in ragged breaths. Part of her brain still didn’t believe this was really happening. She shook her head, barely comprehending the words. “We don’t keep any cash here.”

“Not cash. I want the—”

She drove her knee up as hard as she could, aiming for his groin, but he sidestepped, and she missed.

Strong hands gripped her throat. Can’t. Breathe. She clawed uselessly at his fingers. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she could hear her own pathetic attempts to take in a breath. Oh. Hell. No! She rammed the palm of her hand straight up into his nose. His head rocked back, and he loosened his hold around her neck.

She sucked in a breath, filling her lungs with much-needed air. “Asshole.” Fisting her hand, she punched the side of his head. He released her and staggered back. She cocked her arm again for a right cross when he grabbed her wrist and squeezed. Pain blasted up her arm and she uttered a sharp cry.

Fury gleamed through the eye slits of the mask as his lips curled into a sadistic grin. He liked inflicting pain.

Kat struggled in his grip then began clawing at his face. Her fingers caught on the mask and she yanked it up to his forehead. Blood trickled from his nose onto his mustache.

“Bitch.” He yanked the mask back into place then pulled something from his belt.

Light glinted off the pointed weapon in his hand. A knife. Her heart began racing so fast her chest hurt. She sucked in quick breaths and began backing away. Time seemed to slow. Bloody images of that sharp blade cutting into her soft flesh flashed through her mind.

Kickboxing classes in her private gym were one thing, but it didn’t prepare her for a knife-wielding lunatic. Long before she could get away, he’d ram it in her back.

I’m going to die.

…

Dayne parked next to Kat’s car. It was after nine p.m. He’d figured on driving up to the castle to deliver the puppy kibble and more toys Becca’s husband had given him for Angus. Remy pinned him with intense chocolate-brown eyes. “Suits me fine,” he muttered, not relishing going back to Kat’s “house” again.

“Back in a minute, girl.” Outside, rain pelted him, quickly soaking his shirt and dripping down his face like tears. Like Ted Garman’s tears.

When he’d stopped by Becca’s house, he’d felt helpless seeing the man’s grief and unable to do anything except pay his respects.

He hefted the sack of food over his shoulder, grabbed the bag of toys, then kicked the door shut. As he started toward the Haven, wind howled through the trees, sounding exactly like—

A woman’s scream.

Kat.

He dropped the bags and bolted toward the door, punching the door popper on his belt to release Remy. Before he’d gotten halfway up the sidewalk, she darted past him.

Dayne drew his Glock and yanked open the glass door. As a team, he and Remy entered the vestibule. The overhead light was off, but a glow from the corridor behind the reception desk lit the space enough to see. With his gun extended, he “sliced the pie,” scanning in incremental wedges.

“Kat!” he shouted. A thump came from somewhere down the corridor.

Remy pranced, her nails clicking on the floor as she waited for his command. “Revier!” His K-9 took off, her feet scrambling as she rounded the desk and disappeared.

Dayne raced after his dog. Warning prickles lit up his nerve endings.

As he edged around the desk, a door slammed. Remy barked. Leading with his gun, he peered down the hallway. His dog stood on her hind legs, clawing at the door. Kat lay slumped against the wall, breathing raggedly and clutching her hand to her neck.

His breath froze in his throat like a solid ball of ice.

Light came from the room opposite where she lay. He took a quick scan through the open door. No one visible. He trusted his partner. If anyone inside that room posed a threat, Remy would have alerted him. Instead, his K-9 continued barking at the exit door.

“Bleiben.” Remy lowered and stilled. As much as he wanted to let her out to run the asshole down, he couldn’t leave Kat alone, and he wouldn’t risk sending his partner out there in the dark without knowing what she’d be up against. This fucker could have a gun or a knife, or a four-foot-long samurai sword.

He holstered his gun then tugged out his cell phone, dialing 911 as he knelt in front of Kat. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing had evened out. While he waited for the operator, he scanned her body for injuries. None that he could see. No visible blood, anyway.

When the 911 operator answered, he ID’d himself then quickly described the situation, requesting police backup and an ambulance. Then he issued a warning to all responding units to be on the lookout for anyone in the vicinity who didn’t look like they belonged there.

Kat moaned then leaned her head back against the wall, dropping her hand from her throat. Pale red marks in the shape of fingers encircled her neck.

Dayne clamped his jaw together. Jesus. He cued up another number. “Paulson,” he said when the detective answered. “Get over to the Canine Haven. Someone just attacked Katrina Vandenburg. I already called 911.”

Swearing came through loud and clear. “On my way.”

Remy remained by the door as ordered, her body vibrating with tension.

Kat reached up again to touch her throat, but he caught her wrist, gently pulling it away. “Try not to touch your neck. We might be able to pull some DNA off skin cells left by whoever did this.” It was a stretch, but it might be possible. When she didn’t respond, a shaft of worry crept up his spine. “Talk to me. You okay?” Other than the obvious.

“Yes,” she whispered, and he let out a huge breath. Judging by the fact that her eyes weren’t bloodshot and her voice wasn’t raspy, he’d guess the asshole hadn’t had his hands wrapped around her neck for very long. “But”—she coughed several times—“he wore gloves. And a ski mask.”

Damn. So much for DNA or prints.

Kat shifted, trying to get up, when she winced.

With one hand on her shoulder, he urged her to stay put. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” She shook her head, wincing again.

“Be straight with me. Did he hurt you?”

She let out a resigned breath. “He threw me against the wall. My shoulder hit the fire extinguisher box.”

He glanced up at the metal and glass case housing a large red extinguisher and was doubly glad he’d called for an ambulance. “You said ‘he.’ Was there just the one guy?” She nodded. “Can you describe him? Height, weight, eyes, hair?”

“He was taller than I am, and strong. Really strong.” She took a deep breath, drawing Dayne’s gaze back to the ligature marks on her throat. “I’m five-five, so I’d guess he was about five-ten.”

“Was he skinny? Fat?”

“He was…average. Not skinny, not fat.”

“What do you remember about the clothes he wore and what color they were?” He wanted to get a more detailed description out over the radio ASAP.

“The mask was black. His eyes were brown. He had a beard and mustache. I don’t remember what else he was wearing.”

“Wait. If he was wearing a mask, how do you know he had a beard and mustache?”

“Because when we were struggling, my fingers caught on the mask and it pulled partially up. Then I—” Her eyes went wide. “Oh god. Amy. Help her, please!” She tried pushing off the floor.

He admired her game but held her down. “Where is she?” Kat pointed to the open door on the other side of the corridor. “Stay here.” With his hand on his gun, he got to his feet.

“Remy, such.” His dog bolted inside the storage room. Rows and rows of tall metal shelving loaded with supplies crammed every bit of space.

Remy barked once. He followed the sound and rounded the end of the last row. A woman lay face up on the floor. Red ligature marks ringed her throat. The woman’s eyes were open and sightless.

He dropped to her side, touching his fingers to her carotid. Nada. Her skin was still warm. Training kicked in and he positioned her head and neck to start mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and CPR. He whipped out a tiny red packet from his thigh pocket—a breathing barrier—then placed it over her mouth. After pinching her nostrils closed, he administered two rescue breaths. He hadn’t gotten in two rounds of chest compressions when sirens screamed outside. A soft sob came from the doorway.

“Please, no,” Kat whispered. “Is she dead?”

“Not if I can help it,” he managed between compressions.

“Police, call out!” someone shouted.

“In here!” He gave two more rescue breaths, switching back to compressions. “Go get the EMTs.”

She ran from the room. Seconds later, two EMTs hustled in, followed by several cops.

“We’ll take over,” one of the EMTs said.

Dayne backed off to give them room to work. “See anyone on the way up here?” he asked.

“Negative.” The first cop shook his head. “We’ve got units patrolling the area. We could use a little more description.”

Kat’s brow wrinkled, and her eyes shimmered with tears as she watched the EMTs tend to her friend.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.” He placed his hand at the small of her back and urged her to the vestibule. Along the way, he tipped his head to his K-9. “Remy.” She trotted behind them with her head down, disappointed at not being green-lighted to give chase.

At the reception desk, he pulled out a chair. “You’d better sit down.” He eyed Kat closely for other aftereffects of the attack. The woman had had one hell of a day. It was a miracle she was still upright.

Paulson came through the front door, frowning as he took in the pink marks on her neck. “Are you all right, Miss Vandenburg?”

“I’m fine, Detective.” She peered around Paulson’s shoulder in the direction of where the other woman was being worked on.

Dayne didn’t say so, but his gut told him the EMTs’ efforts would be futile. Kat’s eyes met his, then her chin dropped, and she let out a heavy sigh. She knew it, too.

Remy nudged her muzzle beneath Kat’s hand, forcing her to pet the top of his dog’s head. Remy’s maternal instinct didn’t surprise him, but his next move did. He cupped Kat’s face. “As soon as they know something, they’ll tell us. I promise.” Her glistening eyes reminded him of purple gemstones. “Okay?” She nodded, blinking rapidly and stemming the tears with admirable guts and determination. “Walk us through everything from the moment you got here.”

“I came here to get food for Angus,” she said in a steady voice. “I noticed Amy’s—the Haven’s manager, Amy Thorpe—car was still parked outside.”

“What time was that?” Paulson tugged a pad and pen from his jacket’s breast pocket.

“About nine. The lights were off. I came in, then called out for Amy. When she didn’t answer, I went to the storage room. The lights were on. Then they went out. I turned them back on and found Amy on the floor. That’s when he attacked me. He threw me against the shelves and I ran. Then he grabbed me and started choking me. When he heard you coming, he shoved me against the fire extinguisher box and ran out the back door.”

“Did he say anything?” Dayne asked.

Her smooth brow wrinkled. “He asked me where it was.”

“It?” Paulson looked up. “It what?”

“I don’t know. I told him we don’t keep cash here, but he said he didn’t want cash.”

“Is there anything else here of value?” Dayne asked. “A safe?”

“No, nothing. We don’t even require a fee to adopt any of the dogs here, so there’s no need for one. The only things we keep here are dog food, bowls, leashes, collars, toys, and other supplies.”

“What about drugs?” Paulson asked. “Do you keep any painkillers on site? Injectable or pills?”

“Yes, but not in this building.” She pointed to the other side of the vestibule. “We have an infirmary attached to the main kennel. Everything stronger than over-the-counter meds is kept in a locked cabinet. I can show it to you.”

Paulson nodded, making a few more notes. “Could be the guy was looking to score some prescription meds.”

“Could be.” But Dayne didn’t think so. Two women murdered on the same day and less than five miles apart… This area wasn’t exactly the homicide capital of the county.

“I’ll need the names of everyone who works here,” Paulson said, and Kat gave him six names, two that worked full time, the others part time.

“Where are the recordings for your security cameras maintained?” Dayne tipped his head to a camera on the ceiling.

“In a closet next to the storage room.” She pointed to the corridor then turned her hand over, looking oddly at it.

Dayne watched her, curious. “What?”

“I forgot. I hit him in the nose with a palm strike. I may have broken his nose. He was bleeding. Not much, just a little trickle from one of his nostrils. I was looking to see if there was any blood on my hand that you could get DNA from.”

“You hit him?”

“I told you Emily and I did kickboxing together.”

He had forgotten about that.

“I’ll make sure the CSU guys check her hands and under her fingernails for blood.” Paulson made another notation. “Meantime, don’t touch anything.”

“While you’re at it,” Dayne said, “I don’t see any blood on Remy’s muzzle, but I can swab her in case she got a piece of the guy.”

A team of CSU officers came through the door, each carrying a large duffel and a black hard-sided plastic case.

Paulson motioned them over to Kat. “Swab her hands and take nail scrapings. Then swab that K-9’s mouth.”

“You got it.” The older of the two CSU techs perched his duffel on the desk and took out gloves, Q-Tips, and plastic evidence bags, handing one set to his partner for Remy while he got to work on Kat’s fingers. The younger technician didn’t get the swab within two feet of Remy when she lowered her head and growled. The tech jumped back.

“Better let me do that.” Dayne dug out another pair of gloves from the tech’s bag and slipped them on. He held out his hand for the swab, which the other man gratefully turned over.

Dayne knelt in front of Remy. “Smile.”

Remy pulled back her lips, exposing her teeth and looking exactly like she was grinning.

The tech shook his head. “That’s some trick.”

“Makes this a lot easier.” He made quick work of swabbing Remy’s teeth and gums. After depositing the swab in the evidence baggie, he tugged off the gloves and tossed them in a nearby garbage can.

The other tech still worked on Kat’s fingers and nails. They looked clean, but maybe she scraped some DNA off the guy’s face after all. “How much of a look did you get of him?”

“A few seconds, maybe.”

He and Paulson exchanged knowing looks. They might not get any DNA, but maybe Kat could ID the guy.

One of the EMT’s emerged from the corridor. The man’s expression was grim. He gave a subtle shake of his head.

“No,” Kat whispered. “Nooo.” She stood and took a step toward the corridor.

He caught her gently, being careful not to squeeze her injured shoulder. “Kat, don’t. I know you want to go to her, but there’s nothing you can do. The crime scene unit needs to catalogue everything. We’ll only make it harder for them to do their job.”

When her body shook with sobs, something inside him broke and he took her in his arms, holding her while she cried. Over her shoulder, he and Paulson again exchanged looks. He and the detective weren’t necessarily in sync on everything, but on this, they agreed. Both murders had one common denominator.

Katrina Vandenburg.

Not only had she been the one to discover both bodies, but now someone had tried to kill her.

And she’d seen the guy’s face.