Damien
"Explain to me again why I shouldn't tell Roman about this?" Maksim, Roman’s brother, asks over the phone.
"Because Roman already has a vein throbbing in his temple that's about to explode, and if he finds out I asked you to check the surveillance cameras around Roxanne's neighborhood, he's going to lose his shit. Do we want that? No, we don't."
Do I really have to spell everything out?It's not like I'm doing anything wrong. In fact, on one of Roman's good days, after his morning coffee, when his crew hasn't fucked up anything, and he's held Luna for the better part of a day, he'd probably commend me for this.
The moment I saw the look in her eyes that night at her place, all hollow and distant, I knew she wasn't exaggerating about the danger.
A sigh comes through the phone, then Maksim’s voice confirms what I already suspected.
"Nothing. Whoever left that dahlia knew to avoid all the cameras in the neighborhood, and since her building doesn’t have video surveillance, we’re never going to find out who did it."
That doesn’t sit well with me. Is Roxanne some sudden obsession? Sort of. Has she thrown my life off balance at a time when my head should be locked on the Council vote? Definitely. And yet here I am, freezing in the cold, waiting for some shadow to move in her direction.
"Maybe she should have physical protection, someone who can step in if we catch the guy."
"Maybe," I murmur, though I already know that’ll come with drama.
I hang up on Maksim and try to think of what the hell I can do to catch the guy stealing the peace from the only woman I’ve ever cared about besides Berna.
Ever since she told me everything that happened that night, something’s been bothering me. That’s why I find myself searching everything I can about The Bloody Dahlia.
The first article is about his first murder:
"Marie Leigh was found by her husband in their bedroom, wearing a nightgown and stabbed eighteen times in the stomach. No fingerprints were recovered at the scene. The only evidence was a footprint that indicates the suspect wears a men's size 11 shoe. Police profile describes him as a Caucasian male between 30-45 years old. It’s believed the victim and suspect had a secret relationship, but the husband’s alibi was easily verified. No communication between the victim and suspect was found. The only notable clue left by the killer was a maroon dahlia on the bedroom dresser."
His second victim was stabbed seven times, the third five. Roxanne’s mother was stabbed only once.
I’m no psychologist, but something’s off. The first murder looks like a crime of passion. Who stabs someone eighteen times? The next victims show control and restraint, but Elena Tatcher? She wasn’t supposed to be a victim. That means Elena was an accident, and accidents always leave traces.
I look up the name I care about and wait for someone to answer.
"Hello, I’d like to speak with Mr. Leigh."
"He’s currently out of the country. Can I take a message for when he returns?" a female voice answers.
"Yes, tell him I have some questions about The Bloody Dahlia."
Someone needs to talk. Someone must have suspicions. And if it means speaking to everyone involved in this investigation myself, so be it.
Chapter 9
Unknown
She's never looked right in muted colors. Beige, black, white, navy, each one strips her of something, makes her fade into the background.
But sometimes, on rare occasions, she wears red.
And when she does, even the ground beneath her seems ready to crack apart just to give her more room to walk.
I watch her now, frowning at the bridal dressmaker, their conversation trapped behind the pane of glass between us. My breath fogs the window, a thin cloud marking just how close I am to having her. Close enough to make her understand why I had to keep my face hidden all this time.
An engine growls somewhere behind me, and my whole body tightens. Another loose end to take care of before I can be sure nothing will pull her away from me again.
Damien Kaminski is about to learn just how cold the bottom of Lake Michigan really is.
Don't worry, Roxy. This time there won't be any place left for you to hide. No shadow dark enough, no corner deep enough to keep me from finding you.
