Читать книгу Into The Night - Cynthia Eden - Страница 9

CHAPTER ONE

“I’VE FOUND HIM.” Macey Night exhaled slowly as she faced her team at the FBI headquarters in Washington, DC. All eyes were on her, and she knew just how important this meeting was. She’d spent five years hunting, searching, never giving up, and now, finally... “I believe that I know the location of Daniel Haddox.” She cleared her throat and let her gaze drift around the conference room table. “Daniel...the serial killer otherwise known as ‘the Doctor’ thanks to the media.”

A low whistle came from her right—from FBI special agent Bowen Murphy. “I thought he was dead.”

Macey had wanted him to be dead. “I never believed that he died from his injuries. That was just a story that circulated in the news. Daniel was the best surgeon I ever met. He knew how to survive.”

“And how to vanish,” said Samantha Dark. Samantha Dark was in charge of their team. The group had been her brainchild. Samantha had hand selected every member of their unit. The FBI didn’t have official profilers—actually “profiler” wasn’t even a title that they used. Instead, Samantha and her team were called “behavioral analysis experts.” But the people in that conference room were different from the BAU members who worked typical cases in the violent crimes division.

Each person in that small conference room—each person there—had an intimate connection to a serial killer.

Her gaze slid over her team members.

Samantha Dark...so fragile in appearance with her pale skin, dark hair and delicate build, but so strong inside. Samantha’s lover had been a killer, but she had brought him down. She’d been the one to realize that personal connections to serial perpetrators weren’t a weakness...they could be a strength.

Tucker Frost. The FBI agent’s bright blue stare held Macey’s. Tucker’s brother had been a serial killer. The infamous Iceman who’d taken too many victims in New Orleans. His exploits were legendary—scary stories that children whispered late at night.

Her hands fisted as her gaze slid to the next member of their team. Bowen Murphy. His blond hair was disheveled, and his dark gaze was intense as it rested upon her. Bowen had hunted down a serial killer, a man who the local authorities had sworn didn’t exist. But Bowen had known the perp was out there. A civilian, he’d gone on the hunt and killed the monster in the shadows.

And then...then there was Macey herself. She’d worked side by side with a serial killer. She’d been his victim. She’d been the only “patient” to escape his care alive.

Now she’d found him. After five years of always looking over her shoulder and wondering if he’d come for her again. She’d. Found. Him. “You’re right, Samantha,” Macey acknowledged with a tilt of her head. “Daniel Haddox did know how to vanish.” Her voice was quiet. Flat. “But I knew he wouldn’t turn away from medicine. I knew he would have to return to his patients. He would have to pick up a scalpel again.” But there had been so many places he could have gone. He could have easily stayed under the radar, opening up a clinic that only dealt in cash. One that didn’t have any government oversight because it wasn’t legitimate. One that catered to the poorest of communities.

Where he would have even greater control over his victims.

“I also knew that he wouldn’t stop killing,” Macey said. Once more, her gaze slid back to Bowen. She often found herself doing that—looking to Bowen. She wasn’t even sure why, not really. They’d been partners on a few cases, but...

His gaze held hers. Bowen looked angry. That was odd. Bowen usually controlled his emotions so well. It was often hard to figure out just what the guy was truly thinking. He would present a relaxed, casual front to the world, but beneath the surface, he could be boiling with intensity.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were hunting him?” Bowen’s words were rough, rumbling. He had a deep voice, strong, and she sucked in a breath as she realized that his anger was fully directed at her.

“The Doctor isn’t an active case for our group,” Macey said. They had more than enough current crimes to keep them busy. “We have other killers that we have been hunting and I didn’t want to distract from—”

“Bullshit.” His voice had turned into a rasp. “You forgot you were on a team, Macey. What impacts you impacts us all.”

She licked her lips. He was right. Her news did impact them all. “That’s why I called this meeting. Why I am talking to you all now.” Even though her instincts had screamed for her to act. For her to race up to the small town of Hiddlewood, North Carolina, and confront the man she believed to be Daniel Haddox. But... “I want backup on this case.” Because the dark truth was that Macey didn’t trust herself to face Daniel alone.

Samantha’s fingers tapped on the table. “How can you be so sure you’ve found him?”

Macey fumbled a bit and hit her laptop. Immediately, her files projected onto the screen to the right. “This victim was discovered twenty-four hours ago.” Her words came a little too fast, so she sucked in another breath, trying to slow herself down. “A victim who is currently in the Hiddlewood ME’s office. The autopsy hasn’t even begun, but the medical examiner was struck by what she felt was a ritualistic pattern on the victim.” She licked her lips. “Look at the victim’s arms. The slices, from wrist to elbow. The Doctor always made those marks first on his victims. Those are his test wounds. He makes them to be sure his victims can feel the pain of their injuries, but still not fight him.”

Silence. Macey clasped her hands together. “We got lucky on this one because we have a medical examiner who pays close attention to detail—and who seems very familiar with the work of Daniel Haddox. Dr. Sofia Lopez sent those files to the FBI, and I’ve got...I’ve got a friend here who knew what I’ve been looking for in terms of victim pathology.” When she’d seen those wounds, Macey had known she’d found the bastard who’d tormented her. “I think the man who killed this victim is Daniel Haddox, and I think we need to get a team up to Hiddlewood right away.”

Tucker leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the screen. “You think this perp will kill again? You’re so sure we’re not dealing with some copycat who just heard about Daniel Haddox’s crimes and thought he could imitate the murders?” Tucker pressed.

No, she wasn’t sure. How could she be? “I think we need to get up there.” Her hands twisted in front of her. She wasn’t supposed to let cases get personal, Macey knew that, but...how could this case not be personal? Haddox had marked her, literally. He’d changed her whole life. She’d left medicine. She’d joined the FBI. She’d hunted killers because...

Because deep down, I’m always hunting him. The one who got away. The one I have to stop.

Samantha stared at her in silence for a moment. A far-too-long moment. Macey realized she was holding her breath. And then—

“Get on a plane and get up there,” Samantha directed curtly. Then she pointed to Bowen. “You, too, Bowen. I want you and Macey working together on this one. Get up there, take a look at the crime scene, and...” Her gaze cut back to Macey. “You work with the ME. If Daniel Haddox really committed this homicide, then you’ll know. You know his work better than anyone.”

Because she still carried his “work” on her body. And in her mind. In the dark chambers that she fought so hard to keep closed.

But now I’ve found you, Daniel. You won’t get away again.

Tucker rose and came around the table toward her as she fumbled with her laptop. “Macey...” His voice was pitched low so that only she could hear him. “Are you sure you want to be the one going after him? Believe me on this...sometimes confronting the demons from your past doesn’t free you. It just pulls you deeper into the darkness.”

Her hands stilled on her laptop. She looked into Tucker’s eyes and saw the sympathy that filled his stare. If anyone would know about darkness, it would be Tucker. She lifted her chin, hoping she looked confident. “I want to put this particular darkness in a cell and make sure he never gets out.”

He nodded, but the heaviness never left his expression. “If you and Bowen hit trouble, call in the rest of the team, got it? We always watch out for each other.”

Yes, they did.

She put her laptop into her bag. Tucker filed out of the room, but Samantha lingered near the doorway. Bowen wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Macey figured that he must have slipped away while she was talking to Tucker. Clutching her bag, she headed toward Samantha.

“How many victims do you think he’s claimed?” Samantha’s voice was quiet as she asked the question that haunted Macey.

Every single night...when she wondered where Daniel was...when she wondered if he had another patient trapped on his table. How many? “We know he killed five patients before he took me.” They’d found their remains in that hospital, hidden behind a makeshift wall in the basement. Daniel had made his own crypt for those poor people. He’d killed them, and then he’d sealed them away.

“He’s been missing for several years,” Macey continued. Her heart drummed too fast in her chest.

“And serial killers don’t just stop, not cold turkey.” Samantha tilted her head as she studied Macey. “He might have experienced a cooling-off period, but he wouldn’t have been able to give up committing the murders. He would have needed the rush that he got when he took a life.”

How many victims? “I don’t know how many,” Macey whispered. And, because she trusted Samantha, because Samantha was more than just her boss—she was her friend—Macey said, “I’m afraid to find out.”

Because every one of those victims would be on her. After all, Macey was the one who hadn’t stopped him. She’d run away from him, so terrified, and when she’d fled, he’d escaped.

And lived to kill another day.

Samantha’s hand rose and she squeezed Macey’s shoulder. “You didn’t hurt those people—none of those people.”

“I ran away.” She licked her lips.

“You survived. You were a victim then. That’s what you were supposed to do—survive.”

She wasn’t a victim any longer. “I’m an FBI agent now.”

“Yes.” Samantha held her gaze. “And he won’t get away again.”

No, he damn well wouldn’t.

After a quick planning talk with Samantha, Macey slipped into the hallway and hurried toward her small office. As always, their floor was busy, a hum of activity, and she could hear the rise and fall of voices in the background. She kept her head down and soon she was in her office, shutting the door behind her—

“I would have helped you.”

Macey sucked in a sharp breath. Bowen stood next to the sole window in the small room, his gaze on the city below. His hands were clasped behind his back, and she could see the bulk of his weapon and holster beneath the suit jacket he wore.

She put her laptop down on the desk. “Samantha said we should be ready to fly in an hour. She’s giving us the FBI’s jet to use—”

He turned toward her. “Do you trust me, Mace?”

Mace. That was the nickname he’d adopted for her, and half the time, she wasn’t even sure that he realized he was changing her name. But...it was softer when he said “Mace” and not “Macey.” For some reason, she usually felt good when he used that nickname.

She didn’t feel good right then. Do you trust me? Was that a trick question? She frowned at him. “You’re my partner. I have to trust you.” Or else they’d both be screwed. She was supposed to watch his back, and he was supposed to watch hers. It was pretty much the only way the FBI worked.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he considered her. “I have to ask... What will happen if you come face-to-face with Daniel Haddox?”

She stared up at him, but for a moment, she didn’t see Bowen. She saw Daniel. Smiling. His eyes gleaming. And a scalpel in his hand. The scalpel was covered in her blood.

Bowen’s square jaw hardened. “We’re on this team because Samantha thinks our connections to killers give us special insight into serial crimes. We’re not here because we’re trying to follow our own personal agendas.”

Hurt, she took a step back. “My agenda?” Anger hummed in her blood and, just that fast, she didn’t see Daniel any longer. She just saw Bowen. Bowen with his handsome face, his dark eyes, his strong jaw—a jaw that was currently clenched. Bowen with his broad shoulders and his athletic build. Bowen...the guy she’d thought would understand, more than anyone else, exactly why she had to do this. “You’re the man who hunted a serial and killed him. You’re the one who went out for your own justice, not me.”

He looked away from her. “There are things you don’t know...”

Because Bowen wasn’t exactly the sharing sort. That was fine, neither was she. “I’m not going up there to kill him.”

Now he turned his stare back on her.

“Isn’t that what this whole trust talk is about?” She tugged on her right sleeve, making sure it was perfectly in place, as always. She didn’t like for anyone to see her scars. When people saw them, they tended to just—stare. And stare. And then to look at her with sympathy or horror. “You want to know what my plans are? Do you want to know if I’m going up there so that I can exact some vengeance on the man who tried to kill me?” Her words hung in the air between them.

He was supposed to say something.

He didn’t.

Damn it. He did want to know all that.

“Samantha trusts me.” So maybe she emphasized trust a bit too much there. “You should, too. I’m going up there to stop a killer. I’m not going to Hiddlewood so that I can become one.”

He took a step closer to her. “Is that what you think I am? Do you look at me and see a killer?”

She thought she’d lost control of the conversation. Total control. She smoothed a hand over her hair. “No, look...we need to get packed, okay? There’s a lot of work to do and not a lot of time. I’ll just—I’ll see you on the jet.” Macey backed away from him.

She started checking her desk, grabbing any notes she needed and trying to look anywhere but at Bowen as she heard him pace toward the door.

But he didn’t leave her office. At her door, he stilled. She knew because she’d snuck a quick glance at him. He filled her doorway, his broad back tense, and his hands on the door frame. He didn’t look back at her as he said, “I hate that he hurt you.”

Join the club. I hate that he got away. I hate that he’s killed someone else. Maybe a whole lot of people. I hate it so much that it makes me sick.

“You aren’t the only one who has been looking for him,” Bowen rasped. “You think I haven’t been searching for the bastard, too?”

Surprise rocked through her. “Samantha assigned you to his case?” Sometimes they did look into the colder cases but—

“No.” He’d finally glanced over his shoulder. “This has nothing to do with Samantha or the rest of the team. It’s about you. He hurt you. And I want him to pay. So I’ve been looking for the bastard. I’ve been hunting him.” His lips curved in a humorless smile. “You just found him first.”

Unease slithered through her. Macey stopped searching through her desk. “Bowen?”

“He won’t hurt you again. I’ll make sure of that. Like I was trying to tell you before, you should trust me. I’ll always watch your back.”

Then he was gone. And she was left staring at the door.

* * *

BOWEN MURPHY HAD one weakness in this world, and that weakness was named Macey Night. The beautiful, brilliant and very, very untouchable Macey Night.

He watched her now as she headed down the flight of stairs that led to the medical examiner’s office in Hiddlewood. Their flight to North Carolina had been brief—and quiet. Macey wasn’t the kind of person who filled the air with idle chitchat. Macey was intense, Macey was focused...and Macey had been driving him insane for years.

Ever since he’d first walked into the FBI’s DC office and seen her.

He’d heard her story before he met her. The woman who’d escaped from the infamous Doctor, the MD who’d walked away from her medical career so that she could catch violent criminals. Macey came in a small package, she barely skimmed over five feet three inches, but the woman was pure power. She was dead-on with her gun, and when it came to crime scenes, she always seemed to find details that others overlooked.

And as for the bodies...

No one gets the dead like she does.

They’d reached the end of the stairs. Macey looked back up at him, brushing her hair over her shoulders. Her red hair was straight and fell in a blunt cut that framed her delicate face perfectly. Her gaze drifted to him, and that gaze was as unnerving as always. And not because she had two different-colored eyes—something he found oddly sexy—because it was her. Because he often felt as if Macey could see straight into him.

A bad thing. Because inside? He was dark and twisted.

“Dr. Lopez is supposed to have the victim ready for us. I just need to get a look at the vic’s wounds, and then we can go forward from there.”

By going forward, he hoped that meant a fast trip to the crime scene. He wanted to get hunting. Because even if the perp wasn’t Daniel Haddox, that meant they still had a killer out there. One that needed to be stopped before anyone else was hurt.

Macey adjusted her sleeves, a move he’d seen her do dozens of times, and Bowen’s hand flew out, wrapping around her wrist. “You don’t need to hide.”

He felt her pulse jump beneath his fingers.

“Your scars don’t matter, Mace,” he continued, staring into her eyes. “Forget about them.”

“I can’t.” He saw a crack in her mask. A glimpse at the pain she always carried on her own. “They remind me that I let him get away. That I didn’t stop him.”

Fuck that. “You were a victim who escaped a sadistic bastard.” And his fingers slid under her right sleeve. He felt the faint line of raised skin there. “The only thing these scars should do is tell you how strong you are.”

Her lips parted. She stared up at him and he was leaning in toward her. Too close. He should back away. He should let her go. But her sweet scent—Macey always smelled like lavender—had wrapped around him. He didn’t want to back away. He wanted to get closer.

The door opened down the hallway. “Dr. Night?” a feminine voice called.

Macey pulled her wrist from his grip. “Yes, I’m Special Agent Night.” She nodded toward Bowen. “And this is my partner, Special Agent Bowen Murphy.”

The woman hurried forward as she offered her hand first to Macey, then to Bowen. “Sofia Lopez.” She wore a white lab coat and her dark hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck. Dr. Lopez was young, probably close to thirty, and her dark gaze was steady. “I’m so glad that you both came down here. As soon as I saw the body...those marks on the arms—” her gaze slid right back to Macey “—I immediately thought of you.”

Bowen tensed.

But Dr. Lopez shook her head. “That sounded wrong. Let me try again.” She offered Macey a weak smile of apology. “I remembered your story. A few years ago, it was splashed all over the news. I always follow the big crime stories. I’m something of a crime buff. But with my job, guess that makes sense, huh?”

Very few stories had been as big as Daniel Haddox’s gory tale. The public had an unquenchable appetite for darkness. At least, that was how it seemed to Bowen. And the handsome doctor who’d been slicing up his patients? Hell, three movies had been made about him.

Dr. Lopez cleared her throat. “The wounds you received on your arms were very specific, and when it was revealed that Dr. Haddox marked all of his victims that way—”

“Why don’t you show us this victim?” Bowen cut in. Macey looked uncomfortable and she was back to tugging at her sleeve.

“This victim, right!” Dr. Lopez said. She spun on her heel. “I have her waiting on my table.”

Bowen followed the ME and Macey into the exam room. As soon as he stepped inside, the smell hit him like a punch. He hated the odor that he always found waiting within the labs of coroners or medical examiners. Bleach, bodies, hell.

But he approached the exam area determinedly, his gaze sweeping over the woman on the table. The woman had pale blond hair, delicate features and appeared to be in her early twenties. “Do we have an ID for the vic yet?”

“Yes.” The ME pulled up a chart. “The crime team actually recovered her driver’s license at the scene. She’s Gale Collins, twenty-two, a college student at the University of North Carolina.”

“Where was she found?” Bowen asked.

The ME’s lips pulled down. “She was...she was dumped in town. Literally. Her body was just tossed behind one of the motels. She wasn’t killed there,” Dr. Lopez added quickly. “Not enough blood at the scene. Someone just wanted to get rid of her body.”

Macey’s brows furrowed. “That wasn’t part of Daniel’s MO. He didn’t give up his prey.”

No, the sick prick had sealed them in the walls of his hospital. But since the guy didn’t have a hospital any longer, maybe he’d had no choice.

“Based on the body decomp and lividity, I think our vic was killed within the last forty-eight hours.” The ME blew out a quick breath. “I’ll be able to narrow down that time frame with more testing.”

“Were there any signs that she’d recently had surgery?” Macey asked quietly as she pulled on a pair of gloves. Bowen stood back. Macey was the one who worked on the bodies. He had a rule about the dead—he gave them justice, but he didn’t examine them. Hell, no, that wasn’t his department. So Bowen locked his arms over his chest and watched her work.

“Nothing that I could detect with a preliminary exam,” Dr. Lopez replied.

Macey pulled back the sheet and her eyes narrowed.

Bowen blew out a hard breath. The Doctor made a mess of her. Anger tightened his body. The son of a bitch sure seemed to like hurting women.

Macey’s fingers trembled around the sheet. “Well, here, at least, he stuck to his pattern.”

A sick, sadistic pattern.

“He hurt her for a very long time,” Macey added softly. She cleared her throat. “I’m assuming you’ve already started the blood work to find out what mix of drugs he gave to the victim?” Her fingers slid toward the victim’s wrist. “The bruising here is consistent with straps being used to secure the patient. He locked the straps very tightly.” She swallowed. “Probably because he wanted to be sure that he never made the same mistake again with a victim.”

Her gaze slid to Bowen. He knew exactly what she meant. The mistake he made with you, Macey? When you were able to slip away from the bastard?

Macey moved around the table and lifted the sheet so that she could study the victim’s ankles. “More bruising,” she murmured. “The Doctor secured his victims both by their wrists and their ankles so that they could not escape his procedures.”

“His procedures?” The words burst from Bowen. “You mean his tortures.”

The ME’s eyes widened as she stared at him, but Macey’s expression never altered.

Shit. Get the control back. He knew how to handle a scene like this. By the fucking book. The problem was that when he looked at the victim on that exam table, he kept seeing Macey. Kept seeing what could have happened to Macey five years ago if she hadn’t managed to get away.

And he saw what had happened to her. And if that perp was up there, if he was still in the small mountain town...

I’m going to find you. I’m going to stop you. You will not hurt another victim.

“So...it’s his work, right?” Dr. Lopez’s voice sharpened a bit as she came closer to the exam table. She had on gloves, too, and she lifted the victim’s right wrist. “I knew it as soon as I saw these slashes. From the inner wrist all the way to the elbow, exactly like yours and—”

He’d growled. The sound had just slipped out but both women glanced at him. Macey’s face showed no expression, but she was good at keeping her emotions in check. Far better than he was. Mild alarm had flared in the ME’s eyes. “Is there a problem?” Dr. Lopez asked.

Don’t talk about her scars.

But Macey had caught the ME’s attention once more. “The Doctor liked victims who had unique characteristics,” Macey said quietly. “He wanted victims—”

“Like you,” Dr. Lopez cut in again, nodding briskly. “With heterochromia. And that threw me about this victim. Because I thought both of her eyes were blue at first glance. I mean, when I called the FBI, I’d just seen the wounds on her body. I hadn’t examined her thoroughly at that point. But take a look.” Now her hand moved toward the victim’s face. She opened the victim’s right eye. “Blue. And then...” She opened the left eye.

“Blue.” Macey was frowning.

“That’s what it looks like.” The ME smiled. “But right before you arrived, I realized that our vic was wearing contacts. Or, rather, she is wearing one contact.” Very carefully, she removed the contact from the victim’s left eye and placed it in an evidence bag. “And now you have brown.” Again, her voice held a thread of excitement. “She’s just like you, Agent Night! I mean, that must have been what set him off, right? To find another victim with eyes just like yours. That’s probably why he started killing again after all this time. The Doctor found a victim he couldn’t resist. He found—”

The door to the exam room flew open. Immediately, Bowen tensed and his hand flew toward his holster. But the man standing there, breath heaving, wore a brown deputy’s uniform. A star gleamed on his chest. Bowen recognized the guy immediately. Deputy Coleman Quick. Quick had been sent to meet them at the airport. The deputy had been their escort in Hiddlewood, the small town that bordered North Carolina and Tennessee.

“We’ve got another one,” Coleman said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “The sheriff wanted me to take you two out to the scene right away. Said you had to see it.”

Another one? Already? Shit, that wasn’t good. Two kills so close together showed definite escalation on the part of the perpetrator.

But...

It also means our killer is still here. We can get the bastard because he hasn’t fled the area yet.

Without a word, Bowen lunged toward the deputy and he knew Macey was right on his heels.

* * *

A SWIRL OF blue lights illuminated the scene as the deputy braked his vehicle. Macey and Bowen were right behind Deputy Quick in their rented SUV and, when their vehicle stopped, Bowen quickly killed his engine. Macey reached for the door handle.

But Bowen grabbed her wrist, holding tight. “You don’t have to go in.”

What? Her head whipped back toward him. He couldn’t be serious. She’d come to finally stop this particular nightmare from playing out again and again.

“It’s going to be...” Bowen huffed out a breath. “You know it’s going to be bad inside. After the last vic, I just... It may be too personal for you.”

Because that victim had been so similar to Macey. The eyes. God, her eyes are just like mine.

“I can handle this,” Bowen continued, his voice grim. “I can check the scene and report back to you.”

“I can handle it,” she told him flatly. She wasn’t about to be cut out of this investigation. Yes, it had hurt to see Gale Collins and the wounds on her body—too familiar wounds. But the pain that woman had endured—it had just made Macey all the more determined to stop Daniel. As I wish I’d stopped him years ago. She swallowed. “We have work to do. Let’s get moving.” She pulled her wrist free of his hold and jumped from the vehicle. Voices were rising all around her. Other deputies were already at the scene, and she was sure the sheriff was inside that little cabin. Such a nondescript place. Not high on a mountain, but nestled down low, in the middle of the woods. In the middle of nowhere.

They’d traveled down an old, winding graveled drive to get to the place. And now...

The sheriff appeared in the doorway. His grizzled face was grim and the star on his chest gleamed dully in the light. When he saw her, he tensed a bit, and then his gaze slid behind her to Bowen.

“FBI Special Agents...Night and Murphy, right?” he said. He offered his hand to them. “I’m Sheriff Burt Morris.”

Macey shook his hand. She could feel his calluses beneath her touch. His shake was strong, but not too hard.

He briskly shook hands with Bowen, then said, “I never seen anything like this in all my whole life.” A Southern twang slipped in and out of his words. “And before I retired up here, I worked homicide in Atlanta. But this... Jesus H. Christ. How does someone decide to do this to another human being?”

Daniel’s motivations were still shrouded in mystery. Macey still didn’t know exactly why he’d one day switched from saving victims to killing them.

Morris ran a hand over his face. “You two are the ones who study these guys, right? Take a look and tell me how a person could do that shit. Tell me how. Tell me why.”

Macey squared her shoulders and hurried inside. Her gaze swept over the small living room, and she saw what looked like some kind of makeshift medical office. There were rows and rows of medicine bottles, some medical instruments, even an exam chair.

Was he practicing off the grid? Setting up a practice out here, out of his damn home? A practice and a torture parlor—all in the same place.

“Bedroom,” Morris said from behind her, his voice cracking a bit. “Go in there, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She could smell the odor coming from that room. The distinct scents of blood and death weren’t easy to miss.

The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet. She lifted her chin as she entered the room, squared her shoulders and prepared to find another woman, cut, tortured but—

The Doctor.

Macey took two steps inside the bedroom before she froze.

There was blood. There was so much blood. It was on the ceiling. On the walls. The victim had been restrained, but not on top of an operating room table, as was Haddox’s MO. Instead, the victim in that back bedroom had been tied to the four-poster bed. Thick ropes were around the victim’s wrists and ankles.

There were wounds on the victim’s arms. Long slashes from wrists to elbows. There were deep cuts on the victim’s face. On the torso. Horrible, deep abrasions. But...

“That’s fucking him, isn’t it?” Bowen’s whisper. His breath blew lightly against her ear and she could only nod.

They weren’t looking at a female victim. They were staring at a male who’d been horrifically tortured before death.

And Macey knew the victim in that bed. The man who’d been murdered...the man who had been a helpless victim, who’d known pain and anguish in his last moments.

That man was the notorious Doctor.

She was staring at Daniel Haddox. The killer she’d been so desperate to find was right in front of her. Only...

Someone else found him first. And that someone had made absolutely certain that Daniel would never kill again.

Goose bumps rose to cover Macey’s skin, and she couldn’t look away from the dead man on the bed.