Piper kept crying. Drake raked a hand over his face.
“Come upstairs,” Claire told Piper. “I’ve got some extra clothes in my bag up there. You can dry off.”
Piper let Claire lead her to the stairs, but she cast one more suspicious glance back at Drake. “You…you really killed my sister?”
His jaw hardened. He nodded.
“You bastard,” she whispered and her face contorted with pain.
***
Sweat covered Reese’s forehead as he glanced out of his apartment window. He was up on the second floor, and the street below him was dead quiet.
The storm had stopped. Finally.
But the danger hadn’t passed.
He gazed down at the street. The street lamps barely provided any illumination, their glow was too weak. Shadows seemed to move down there.
His eyes narrowed.
Death was coming tonight. Hunting.
Hurry the hell up, Trace.
The phone behind him began to ring.
***
“I know someone was with her on that pier,” Drake said, his shoulder brushing against Skye’s arm. “The jackass knocked me in the head and dumped me in the water.”
“But in all of the other kills, the attacker used a knife. No one drowned.” The whole situation just didn’t make sense to Skye.
Drake glanced up at the ceiling. “She knows more than what she’s saying.” He started to march for the stairs.
Skye stopped him. “You’re the last person she wants to see now.” There had been no missing the hate and fury on Piper’s face. Skye gave a decisive nod. “I’ll do it, okay? I’ll talk to her.”
“I don’t think you should get anywhere near her,” he snapped out. “Trace asked me to stay because he wanted you safe. If she’s anything like her viper of a sister—”
“You loved her, didn’t you?” Skye asked.
She heard a faint creak from upstairs, as if a door had opened.
Drake blanched. “What? What are you insane?”
“Maybe it wasn’t love,” Skye allowed. “But maybe it was as close as you’d ever come. You cared about Anna Jean, but you still had to kill her.”
“She was going to kill me! She had a gun to my head!”
“And you had a gun to Piper’s.”
His eyes squeezed shut. “She’s in my nightmares.” All the emotion had drained from his voice. “Every night. I close my eyes, and I see her dying in that snow. An angel with blood for wings.”
***
“Are we really sure a cop is the one we’re after?” Noah asked.
Trace had the Jag’s gas pedal shoved to the ground. “No, we won’t be sure until we see him with our own eyes.” Because all of the puzzle pieces weren’t fitting for Trace.
The way the evidence had been planted at Parker’s murder scene. Trace’s shirt…the dog tag. All of that indicated that the killer had been trying to frame him, and a cop would know just how to set up a frame job.
But then something had happened. The killer had struck again. Too quickly? He’d gone right after Sara.
Why?
His hold on the steering wheel tightened. Maybe the cop had worried that Sara knew too much, that she’d turn on him.
So did you have someone else kill her? Someone who hesitated?
Trace raced through a yellow light. He needed to go faster.
***
“I should be in jail,” Drake said. “That’s where I belong. I fucking killed her.” His breath rasped out. “That’s what she tells me, every single night.”
Did Trace have those same nightmares? Only, for him, was it the ghost of Tucker who came back and haunted him?
Another creak came from upstairs. Skye’s gaze rose. Is Piper listening? Skye didn’t want the other woman to hear anymore.
Her fingers slid down Drake’s arm, and she headed for the stairs.
Sure enough, Piper stood at the top of those stairs. Her hands were wrapped tightly around her stomach.
Skye slowly climbed the stairs. Piper backed up, sliding into the apartment. She held the door open for Skye.
“All this time,” Piper whispered, “and I blamed the wrong man.”
“You didn’t know,” Skye told her as she closed the door behind her. She glanced quickly around the apartment, but she didn’t see Claire. The bathroom door was closed. Maybe Claire was in there.
“You think you know everything,” Piper continued, her stare glassy. “Then the truth comes along, and it rips your world right apart.”
A muffled cry reached Skye’s ears. She frowned. That cry had come from the bathroom. “Claire?” Skye called.
“She wasn’t feeling well,” Piper told her, blinking, and glancing toward the bathroom door. “She said she kept seeing her sister.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “I guess they took both our sisters away, didn’t they?”
Skye hurried toward the bathroom. She knocked lightly on the wooden door. “Claire?”
The floor squeaked behind Skye.
She lifted her hand and knocked on the door. “Claire, are you okay?”
Something sharp and hard—a knife?—pressed into Skye’s back, freezing her. Terrifying her.
“I wouldn’t worry so much about Claire. She’s already dead but you…you still have plenty of time to suffer.” Piper’s breath blew against Skye’s ear. “And don’t even think about screaming, bitch. You raise your voice above a whisper, and I will slit your throat in an instant.”
***
Trace slammed on the brakes. The Jag stopped with a squeal of its tires. “You take the back,” Trace ordered Noah as they jumped from the car.
“And you storm the front.” Noah inclined his head. “Just like old times.”
Screw old times. Trace had taken his weapon from the car. After Sharpe’s death, he’d made sure to keep the gun close. He checked the weapon. Loaded. Ready. Then he ran toward the apartment. Reese should be upstairs, waiting and—