She stopped and breathed deeply. Electricity tingled across his fingers where they touched her arm, a sensation that was warm rather than threatening. It was almost as if she were sucking in the power of the storm itself.
“You okay?” he asked.
Though she was still unsteady on her feet, she definitely looked better than she had five minutes ago. But that didn’t really surprise him. When her feet had been cut to the bone by laser fire, she’d still managed to walk, when most people would have been unconscious.
“Yes.” She took another deep breath, and color began to warm her cheeks. “Let’s go.”
She shook off his hand and walked unaided into the building. But despite the show of strength, her hand trembled when she punched the elevator button.
“Maybe you should stay down here and wait,” he suggested, indicating the nearby bench.
She gave him a wry smile. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily now.”
He was beginning to see that. He followed her into the elevator and pressed the button for the twenty-third floor. The doors closed and the elevator zoomed upward.
She gulped at the sudden movement, and sweat began to redarken the red-gold strands of hair near her temple. She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, her full lips pursed. Fighting her stomach, he thought.
She had guts; there was no doubt about it. If he had been in the market for a partner, he certainly couldn’t have found a better one.
The elevator came to a smooth stop. Once the door had opened, he led the way through the foyer. Two State Police officers guarded the door at the end of the corridor. He dug out his ID and flashed it at them. The two men stepped aside, allowing them access into another corridor.
The metallic odor hit almost immediately. The bloodshed had to be bad if he could smell it this far away from the body.
A third officer glanced up from a com-unit. “AD Stern?”
Gabriel nodded. “And Agent Ryan.”
The detective glanced at Sam and almost instantly dismissed her. Either he wasn’t very perceptive or he didn’t care for female officers. Or maybe he was just plain stupid. Gabriel looked at the man’s ID. “What have we got, O’Neal?”
“A woman, mid-twenties, in the reception area. Multiple knife wounds to the throat and stomach. Apparently she’s the resident doctor here.”
“Time of death?”
“Estimated to be around twelve-thirty.”
During lunchtime, so they probably wouldn’t find many witnesses. “No sign of forced entry?”
The detective shook his head. “No witnesses so far, either.”
“What about the security cameras?”
“Several. We’re investigating them now.”
“I want copies sent to my office.”
The detective nodded, and Gabriel continued to the small reception area.
It was worse than any of the previous murders. Blood had sprayed across the white walls, and splashed over the cheerful flowery patterns on the carpet and across the pristine whiteness of the reception desk. The body lay between the desk and the sofa, one hand outstretched, reaching for the nearby phone.
He glanced at Sam. She was sheet white. “Why don’t you sit while I check out the body?”
“Why? Afraid I’ll fall over and contaminate the crime scene?” She crossed her arms and glared at him mutinously. His anger surged, made worse by the fact that he had only himself to blame for her reaction. If he hadn’t treated her like shit, she wouldn’t be flinging it back at him. “Check the damn desk, then. See if there’s anything there.”
She nodded, and he squatted beside the body. Overhead, the CSM buzzed. “ID, please.”
“Assistant Director Gabriel Stern and Agent Sam Ryan, SIU,” he replied absently.
There was nothing patient, or gentle, in this woman’s death. The murderer had slit her throat before gutting her—and had probably done so while she was still alive. There was tape stretched across her mouth and a look of terror permanently etched on her face. If it was the work of the same killer, something must have gone terribly wrong. Either that, or the madness that had set the killer on this path was getting progressively worse.