The Gathering Dusk (Killer Instinct .5)

The woman was good. Able to turn on and off her act at the blink of an eye. “You haven’t asked for a lawyer,” Samantha said.

Nina kept staring at her wrists. “I should, right? That’s what people do...but...” Her eyes squeezed shut. “My mind is so foggy.”

Blake glanced at Samantha, one dark brow raised. She could read his expression perfectly.

Utter bullshit. Neither of them were buying Nina’s act.

“Do you seriously think we don’t remember the things that you said to us at George’s house?” Samantha asked.

Nina looked up at her. “I don’t remember. Maybe...maybe I should talk to a shrink. Talk to someone who can understand how my mind just—splintered...” A tear leaked down her cheek.

She started this act as soon as I mentioned evidence. Before Samantha had said the one magic word—evidence—Nina had been smiling that smug little grin. Samantha leaned toward her. She patted the woman’s hand, as if in sympathy. “You are talking to someone who understands. My PhD is in psychology—I totally understand all about the fragile state of the human mind.”

The faint lines near Nina’s eyes tightened.

“So feel free to tell me everything,” Samantha murmured. “Because I sure am ready to listen.”

But Nina jerked her hand away from Samantha’s. “You won’t know my secrets.”

Words the woman had said before.

“I found your secrets,” Samantha said. “Buried beneath the ash. Did you really think someone like George wouldn’t have put those pictures and flash drives in a fireproof safe? I found them beneath the floor of the room that once held Missy Johnson.”

Nina paled.

“You knew he was keeping evidence, didn’t you? His souvenirs. I mean, even if the kills were your idea, he liked to keep the memories close.”

Nina shook her head.

Blake settled back in his chair, his gaze drifting between her and Nina.

“You like pain, right, Nina?” Samantha asked.

Nina jumped to her feet. “How dare you—”

“Some of your scars are new, some are old. The old scars tell me that you started the pain a very long time ago. Was something bad happening in your life? Did you make the first cuts?”

Nina’s eyes glittered, but no real emotion showed on her face. Acting. Just going through the motions, trying to play us.

And Samantha knew Nina’s secret. “You didn’t feel alive, did you? Everyone around you felt. You could see it. You could almost taste their emotions. But you didn’t feel. Until the first cut. That’s when you started to feel. What you felt, it was pain. But to you it was like pleasure, wasn’t it? Something to finally cut through the cloud of numbness that was all around you. Something to prove you were alive.”

Nina shook her head. “You know nothing about me—”

“You and George...what happened? Did he find you one day? See what you were doing? Only, instead of being horrified, you found a perfect partner in the boy down the street from you. A boy you could control because he was already in love with you, right?” Samantha nodded. “It would make sense. You’re beautiful. You were a little older than him. He was the shy, smart kid, but when we talked to some of the people who went to school with him, they said he was teased because of his size. Teased because he wasn’t strong enough for sports or—”

“He was strong enough with me.”

Samantha’s stomach knotted, but she barely eased out a breath. It’s working. She’s talking. “Because you made him strong. Just like you made him start cutting you. And he liked it, just as much as you did. But then one day, those slices on your skin weren’t enough to make you feel, were they? The cloud was back.”

“Shut. Up.” Nina nearly screamed at her.

“What did you decide the next rush would be? The knife wasn’t cutting deep enough...at least, not on you. Originally, I was looking at this all wrong. I thought George was angry, that he wanted to hurt you.”

“George would never hurt me.” She leapt toward Samantha, trying to come right across the table.

Blake shot to his feet, catching her shoulders. “You need to calm down, Ms. Miller.”

“Get your hands off me! You can’t touch me! I’ll have you brought up on charges! I’ll—”

“George didn’t want to hurt you. You wanted to hurt yourself. But you didn’t want to die.” Samantha’s low words carried right across Nina’s screams. “So you found a victim who was similar to you. And you got George to kill her...for you.”

Silence.

Samantha didn’t dare to breathe. Had she gone too far? Pushed too much? All of her instincts were screaming that she was correct but...

Maybe I’m not handling Nina the right way.

Blake slowly released the other woman. Nina didn’t sit. She stared at Samantha. Nina’s eyes were blank, glassy, like a doll’s.

“George made videos. Took photos. The killing gave him a rush. He got power from the attack.” Samantha kept talking because she knew there was no going back. She needed Nina to break. She needed her to slip up. Because I don’t have any footage linking her to the murders. No evidence at all. “And then he took another girl...and he killed her, too.”

Nina’s lips had clamped together. Her body was as stiff as a board.

Blake was still on his feet, but Samantha remained seated. She stayed in the seat to give Nina the feeling of control she knew the other woman wanted. Nina craved control and—

“Did you know he took Missy Johnson?” Samantha asked her, tilting her head. “You were with him for the other attacks—I saw that in the pictures.” I can bluff all day long, Nina. “But you weren’t there when he took Missy.” She let her eyes widen. “He took her without you, didn’t he? George got a taste for that power rush and he—”

“The bastard should have waited for me!” Nina screamed. “I would have been there! I would have watched out for him—he would still be with me! But he took her...said he couldn’t wait. She was wrong, though. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I’d changed my hair and he didn’t even know. I wanted to try someone new. He didn’t know—you took him from me and he didn’t know—”

Once more, she came at Samantha.

And, once more, Blake was in her path. But this time, when Blake touched Nina, she collapsed, sobbing. Deep, wrenching sobs that shook her whole body.

For a moment, Samantha didn’t move at all. Shock chilled her skin. She confessed. I got her to confess.

Blake looked back at Samantha. A faint smile curved his lips and he stared at her with...pride?

Her chin lifted.

“I want a lawyer,” Nina whispered.

Ah, those desperate, guilty words. But they’d come too late. Samantha nodded as she rose to her feet. “We’ll make sure you have an attorney present right away.” She headed for the door, then, unable to help herself, she glanced back.

Nina was glaring at her.

“Count on it,” Samantha said.

Nina’s eyes flared and her hands—clawlike—lifted into the air as if she’d attack.

Samantha just kept walking.

Hell, yes. She’d done it.

Told you I’d have those secrets.

* * *

“YOU DIDN’T FIND evidence at George’s house, did you?” Blake asked her about an hour later, when they were both settled in their office on the fourth floor.

Samantha shook her head.

“Remind me to never play poker with you.”

“I’m fantastic at poker.”

He propped his hip on her desk and stared down at her. “I think you’re probably fantastic at a whole lot of things.”

You have no idea. She rose from her chair and moved closer to him.

He caught her hand and stared at the bandages that still covered her fingers. “I don’t like it when you get hurt because of me.”

She just shrugged. “I can handle a few blisters.”

His head cocked so that he was staring at her. “I bet you

can handle nearly everything that comes your way.”

Not everything. She still wasn’t sure how to handle him.

His fingers slid over her wrist, then his hand fell away. “When do I get to hear your story, Samantha?”

She should move back. But she didn’t. Her skin was still icy and he seemed so warm. “My story?”

“Yeah. When do you tell me about those secrets that I see in your eyes?”

Blake, you don’t want to hear about those nightmares. Our job is hard enough.

“When...” he murmured. “When will you start to trust me the way you trust Cameron?”

Cameron was different. Cameron—

A knock sounded on their office door. She jumped back—almost guiltily—as she turned to find the FBI executive assistant director standing there.

Bass nodded toward her. “Heard you got the confession this morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nice fucking job.”

From him, that was high praise, indeed.

“This was a high-profile case. You made the FBI look real good.”

She hadn’t really cared about how the FBI looked. She’d just wanted to do her job.

“Since you’re being cleared on the shooting, it’s time to start working on the next case.”

Her heart gave a quick jump in her chest. “Another case?”

He strode into the office and tossed a manila file onto her desk. He opened the file and she saw a picture of a pretty young woman staring at her.

“A girl’s gone missing from Georgetown University...”

* * *

THE KILLER STARED down at his prey. She was a beautiful girl, fit, in the prime of her life.

And she was terrified.

He held the knife in his hand, just watching her. Staring at that terror as it filled her eyes. Her fear seemed to fill the very room around them.

He’d gagged her. After all, it wouldn’t do for someone to hear her screams. “This is my first time, you see,” he whispered as he let the knife trail over her arm. “I have to be careful. Oh, I’m sure I’ll learn plenty as I go... There’s always a learning process...”

Behind the gag, she gave a pitiful moan.

“I’m not going to kill you...”

Hope filled her big blue eyes.