Hotter After Midnight (Midnight 1)

The killer.

He was still in the building.

She had to find him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her shields all the way. Felt a flood of hot, dark power singe her, and she lunged for the door.

She’d find him now; she had his psychic trail. She’d get him and—

“Where the hell are you going?” Brooks stepped in front of her, frowning. “This is a crime scene, Dr. Drake, you can’t go running—”

“Get out of my way.”

The cops are right in front of me. The f**king idiots. Maybe I’ll do one of them next. Yeah, that’d be good.

Brooks lifted a brow but stepped back.

Would cops taste different? Would they try to fight more?

Emily hurried out of Darla’s office. Looked to the left. That way.

Cops were searching the hall, some crouching. Standing. Some were talking to reporters.

The dark trail of power was stronger now. Closer.

She shouldn’t have f**ked with me. Should have left the doctor alone.

Emily froze as she caught his thought. The doctor.

Darla had asked her questions at the press conference. Asked her about demons.

Had the killer known?

“Emily!” Colin’s voice. A loud, demanding cry that turned every head in the hallway.

The voice in her mind shut off. The twisting power dissipated.

Shit.

Emily ran down the hallway, ignoring Colin’s call. It was like the guy had just thrown up some kind of block. No, not a block. A shield. A shield just like hers.

That didn’t make a damn bit of sense. She’d never met a shifter who had enough psychic power to put up a shield. A demon, yes, but not a shifter.

She pushed past two cops. Turned the corner. And ran straight into Jake.

“Dr. Drake!” His eyes widened and his arms automatically wrapped around her as she barreled into him.

She felt the weak flow of his magic surround her.

Not the guy she was looking for. “Excuse me.” She pulled away from him, ran straight ahead.

But there was nothing. No telltale pull of power. No sign of any high-level supernaturals.

“Emily, what are you doing?” Colin grabbed her elbow, spun her around. “Why are you running?”

“He’s here.”

“What?”

“The killer. He’s still in the building. Or he was…just a moment ago.”

His fingers tightened around her. “How do you know? Did you see something?”

“I heard him.”

Colin frowned, and Emily realized that her words probably weren’t making much sense. But they were wasting time and she had to hurry.

“I lowered my shielding, okay?” Her voice was a whisper. “I wanted to see if I could sense anything about the killing and I-I sensed him. Heard his thoughts. Colin, he was here, just seconds ago.”

He reached for his gun. “You still hear ’im?”

Emily bit her lip. “His voice stopped. When you called my name.”

“Probably because the bastard realized you were here and that you could track him.”

Yes, but how had a shifter known that?

Colin raised his voice, calling out to the cops. “I want a lockdown on this building. Round up every single employee. Put them all in one room.”

“It might not be one of the employees,” Emily said, leaning in close to him. “Colin, the killer could be a cop.”

He swore.

“I-I need to go over every inch of this building, see if I can find him.”

He clamped his hand around her wrist. “You’re not goin’ anywhere without me, Doc.”

His gun was drawn, ready. “Now let’s go find the bastard.”

But they didn’t find him. They searched the entire station, roof to basement. Emily saw every employee, studied every cop, but she couldn’t find the killer.

The only Other she saw were Colin, the young charmer cop, and Jake Donnelley. And none of those men had the right magic trail to match the killer.

He’d gotten away. Somehow, he’d managed to slip past the police and escape.

Dammit.

They were back in Darla’s office. Her body had been covered by a sheet, and two men pushing a gurney were entering the room.

Emily pulled off her glasses, rubbed the bridge of her nose. She’d been so close, and that bastard had gotten away.

“Crime scenes can be hard, can’t they?”

She jerked at the soft voice, so close to her back. Emily turned around, found Smith staring at her with sympathy in her dark eyes.

“Umm, yeah, they can be.” Anything that involved a dead, bloody body automatically fell under “hard” in her book.

“I saw you run out earlier.” Smith hesitated. “Are you all right?”

Emily realized what her sudden fast and furious departure must have looked like.

The profiler couldn’t handle the crime scene.

But it wasn’t like she could tell Smith the truth. So she forced a smile. “I’m fine now.” Actually, she was furious. The murdering bastard had gotten away from her. If she’d had just a few more minutes to track him—

“My first few scenes made me sick. I mean, I’d been in medical school, and I’d seen dead bodies before.” Smith shook her head.

“But seeing a person like this, a person who fought to live just hours ago…” She sighed. “It’s hard to get used to.”

Emily wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing bodies that had been savaged like Darla’s.

“Why don’t you go on home?” Smith suggested. “It’s late, and there can’t be much else you can do here tonight.”

No, there wasn’t anything else she could do. The killer was gone, the reporter was dead, and she was left with the twisted flow of the Night Butcher’s rage sliding through her mind.

“Good idea,” she muttered. “Tell Colin I left, will you?” Cause she didn’t want to face him again just then. After they’d finished searching, he’d looked at her with…damn, had that been doubt in his eyes?

Did the man think she’d made up the story about hearing the killer?

Hell, she really did need to get out of there. Needed to clear her head.

And try to stop hearing the killer’s voice replaying in her mind.

Maybe next time I’ll try a cop.

Her hands fisted. Maybe next time I’ll catch you first, you sonofabitch.

“Hey, Gyth! There’s a guy here who says he has to talk to you.”

Colin glanced up from Darla’s desk. Saw Jake Donnelley peering over a uniform’s shoulder.