“Yes, detective.”
“Not now!” he exclaims, standing from his chair. He reaches into his drawer and pulls out some blue surgical looking gloves.
I exhale and open my bag, pulling out a folded piece of paper.
“Anyone else touched it besides you?” he asks tersely.
“Nope, it was stuck to my door this morning.”
Logan pulls on the gloves, and I hold out the letter to him. Opening it up, I watch as his face hardens, and his brows slam down. His steel blue gaze meets mine, the icy hardness in them making it hard for me to breathe.
“Salena, what the fuck?!” he shouts, struggling to control the anger in his voice.
Okay, the donuts did not help.
“I know,” I answer quietly, biting my nail. I fall into the seat on the other side of his desk, my knee bouncing up and down rapidly as I stare at the note in his hands.
“Your stalker confessed to killing those two girls.” He lets out an angry huff and slams the note down on his desk, making me jump. His full lips are pulled into a straight line, his fist clenched at his sides as he tries to rein in his frustration. But I can sense fear coming from him, he’s scared for me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
The note is . . . it’s disturbing, sick, and completely frightening. While I know I would fare better than the girls he’s already killed, I also know this stalker is a genuine threat.
“For what? This isn’t your fault.”
I bite down hard on my lip, and Logan’s eyes soften. He steps around the desk and squats in front of me. His hand reaches up to cup my face and sees he still has the gloves on. With a snarl, he yanks them off and cups my face. “Baby, I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at this fucker.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, even though my stomach is twisting in fear and trepidation. My heart hammers in my chest as I voice my thoughts. “Those girls died because of me.”
Logan’s eyes hardened to ice chips. “No! Fuck no. Don’t do that, Salena. This is all on him.”
Logan leans forward, his mouth gently brushing mine before he pulls back and stands.
“Milo!” he calls.
Milo, who has been watching everything, stands and strolls over, concern etched on his face.
“What’s going on?”
“Log this evidence. I need to make some calls.”
Milo's eyes fall to the letter and widen. “Shit.”
Salena,
Do you like my gifts? They are pretty, aren’t they? Not as pretty as you, though.
I love the color red. I cannot wait to bathe us both in red. To watch the blood run over your snow white skin, soaking the ground beneath us.
Your screams of pain mixed with my screams of pleasure will sound like a symphony.
Soon, we will be together.
Chapter Twenty Seven
