Die For Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (For Me 1)

The cops were searching every inch of the first floor. Ross and his team went to the back of the house, but Dane knew where Valentine liked to work, so he headed for the basement. With a motion of his hand, he got two officers to follow him. He yanked open the door to the stairway and rushed down the narrow steps.

Dane was afraid he’d find a body down there. The same twisted scene that Valentine had played out before.

But there was no victim in the basement this time. There was no one there at all.

Dane’s gaze narrowed on a small table against the right wall. A computer sat on top of that table. An image was looping and playing on that screen, again and again. Dane and Katherine. In her bedroom.

Valentine had been watching. Just a few minutes ago.

Dane stared at the screen, his body tight. You were here. Are you still? “Search every closet, under every bed—every damn place!” Dane barked. He tapped his transmitter. “Captain, he may have just fled the premises. Get the cops outside to start fanning out!”

The captain was shouting orders, telling his men to search the area.

“Get back in the van,” Harley told Katherine as his cheeks flushed. “Stay there until it’s safe.”

A cop ran toward Harley, coming from the back of the small house. He had a cap pulled over his head. Harley motioned to him. “Take the south patrol! Join up with them!”

Harley turned away from the cop and helped Katherine into the van.

The cop didn’t head south.

Katherine frowned. “Wait, didn’t you tell him—”

Harley’s phone began to ring. He grabbed it with his left hand even as his right kept pulling the van door shut. “Stay inside!” Harley told her once more.

But the cop hadn’t headed south. He’d turned toward the woods.

Katherine glanced over at the tech. John looked tense, and his gaze was on the computer screen.

“John, who owns this house?”

He looked over at her. “Can’t tell yet. Hell, what I’ve gathered, no one should own it. It was foreclosed on a year ago.” His gaze shifted back to the small screen. “The lights are hooked up, gas and electricity, but it looks like the guy used three different names for those services. Tricky SOB.”

Yes, he was.

Katherine glanced toward the closed van door. She kept seeing that cop head the wrong way. It had probably been nothing. Maybe someone else had told him to search in that direction, but…

It felt wrong. She reached for her bag and the gun that was inside it. Right then, she needed that security.

As her fingers closed around the bag, Katherine heard a faint a gasp, then a thud. Like a body hitting the pavement.

Her heart slammed into her ribs as she lunged up and grabbed the door’s handle. The door rolled back, and the light from the van’s interior spilled on the ground.

Showing Katherine the fresh spatter of blood that was just inches from the van.

John grabbed her. “Hey, what are you doing? The captain said to stay—”

“Didn’t you hear that sound?”

He just stared blankly at her. He hadn’t. He hadn’t heard. She had. “He’s out there.” She clutched the bag tighter. “There’s blood on the ground, and I’m sorry, but you have to let me out of this van.” She wasn’t going to sit back again. Not going to let others be risked.

John scrambled back. “Blood? Where?”

She pointed to the ground and heard his sharp inhale. “Get on the radio,” she ordered him. “Valentine’s here.” And before he could stop her, she jumped out of the van. Katherine yanked her gun out of the bag. Harley was gone. There was no sign of the cop who’d been wearing the cap. Where were they?

She glanced around the street.

Harley had wanted the cop to search to the south.

So that just leaves north, west, and east.

Then she heard a faint groan. Pain-filled, soft. That faint sound had come from the left. To the west.

She ran as fast as she could. She jumped over a tall row of bushes, felt the scratches on her right leg. Tripped over someone’s discarded tricycle, and then—

Harley was on the ground.

The cop with the cap was crouched over him. The cop—he had a knife at Harley’s chest.

“You should have taken better care of her. I mean, you call yourself a f**king cop.” She heard the words distantly. They seemed too quiet. Maybe her heartbeat was too loud.

“You’re useless, that’s what you are.”

That voice.

“Michael.” The first time she’d said his name since the day she’d found him standing over another victim. Only this time, his victim wasn’t dead.

She saw his shoulders tense. The darkness was growing thicker, and it was hard to see him clearly. His cap was hiding his hair, and his shoulders—they were much bigger than they’d been before.

He didn’t turn to face her, and he made no move away from Harley. Harley wasn’t fighting his attacker. Just lying limp on the ground.

“You aren’t supposed to be here, Kat.” Michael’s voice was chiding. “I saw the captain put you in the van. You’re supposed to be in the van.”

Valentine. Think of him as Valentine. It was the way she kept them separate. Her way of convincing herself that she’d never loved a killer.

She was good at lying to herself.

He still had the knife over Harley’s chest. “The captain told you it was safe in the van.”

“I also wasn’t supposed to come home early that day.” The gun was shaking in her fingers. “Get away from him or I’ll shoot you.”

He laughed. “That again, huh?”

“There are bullets in the gun this time.” She’d made sure of it. “Now get away from him.”

Silence. Then he lifted the knife, moving it away from Harley’s body, but not dropping it. “Did you know that Harley is the one who stood by and let your detective become so warped and twisted?”

“Dane isn’t warped.” And he wasn’t twisted. “That’s you.”

Laughter again. The low, husky laughter that she remembered so well. “Ah, Kat, haven’t you realized you’re attracted only to men like me? You see the darkness in us, and it pulls you right in.”

“Get. Away. From. Him.”

“You have a choice now, Kat. You can save this man. A man who stood by while a child was abused, again and again, a man who wore the uniform that said he would protect everyone…”