Danny rested his elbows on the car. “I’ll help you, but you have to promise me you’ll never go on a solo mission again looking for this guy.”
Becca chewed her lip, unsure she wanted to make a promise she couldn’t keep.
“Promise me,” he demanded.
“Fine,” she grumbled and held up her fingers like a girl scout might. “I promise. Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout.” He winked. “Now, come by the office tomorrow and we’ll do a sketch of the woman. We’ll show her picture around the hospital until we find her.”
Becca’s mouth parted. That was a brilliant idea. Why in the world hadn’t shethought of it? She shoved her key into the ignition and smiled.
“You’re brilliant. I could kiss you.” Those words slipped from her lips before she could reel them back.
Danny gave her a lopsided grin. “I might have to hold you to that.”
His words made her pause. They didn’t have that type of relationship. Not anymore. Once in high school and again after college, but he’d broken things off with her explaining that the police department would never take him seriously while dating a psychic. It had been for the best. She hadn’t figured out how much of a lifeline he’d been to her, until she’d had to let him go and figure out how to stand on her own two feet. They’d each gotten what they wanted and were able to remain great friends, even years later.
“We both know your career would never recover. You just now made detective. You’ll be named chief before you’re forty. We’re good just the way we are.”
“Quit playing amateur sleuth and go home. You need to get ready.” He tapped the car frame. “You better not be late to your sister’s wedding. She might put a hex on you, and I can’t fix hexes. It’s not in the police manual.”
“Hey. If you happen to get a call tonight that someone has seen me dumping a man’s body dressed in a kilt, just ignore the call and know that he deserved it.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Danny said, covering his ears and stepping back from the car.
“Exactly,” she mumbled and pulled out of her parking spot.
She headed home to get changed into her bridesmaid dress. She had exactly one hour before she had to be transformed into a picture of grace and beauty. She could do it. She could perform a miracle.
Chapter Two
Becca Thatcher was onlyfive minutes late getting to the wedding. She’d lost time staring at her murder board that she’d started in the beginning and maintained over the years. Pictures and newspaper clippings covered the board. A detailed time line of all three deaths and animal mutilations that Becca contributed to Knife Boy were listed in chronological order. If there was a connection, neither Becca nor Danny could figure it out. This was the first time she had gotten close, due to the premonition of the killer’s stalking. She was close this time; she could feel it in her bones.
Becca pushed thoughts of the killer from her mind and looked down from the banister to the main floor below, where her sister’s wedding reception was in full swing. Harper was happier than Becca had ever seen her. Her smile was bright as she gazed upon her tattoo-covered, hit man husband, who she’d wrongfully accused of being a stripper. Ryker was always within reach and alert to everything going on around them. Becca caught a glimpse of a silver glint beneath the tuxedo jacket as Ryker spun his new wife around on the dance floor. He was packing, and much more proficient with a gun, easing the tension in Becca’s shoulders. Her powder blue semiautomatic with matching holster was tucked neatly away inside her purse.
Harper, like their other sisters, Quinn, Cara, and Grace, had beaten the odds and whipped her husband into submission, all while saving their company. Her sisters were strong like that. Something Becca had always envied about each of them. Grace had been the only one to skip the traditional wedding and run off to Vegas to get married. She’d been the smart one, and Becca would follow in her shoes, if that day ever came.
“They look good together,” Ian McDougall said. The Highlander laird had shown up when Quinn had married hisrival, and like a bad habit, he was hard to get rid of. “No’ as good as you’ll look wearing my colors when we tie the knot.”
Ian turned his back to the festivities below and rested his elbows on the railing.
Becca ignored his statement. He’d asked only a dozen times, and every time her answer had been the same. Not in this lifetime.
“They belong together. You can see it in their movements, the way he watches her, and the way she automatically knows what he needs. It’s like a natural dance.” Becca smiled. In her heart, she was happy that Harper had found the man of her dreams, but deep down, it did nothing more than highlight Becca’s own lonely existence.
“Hae you thought aboot my proposal?” Ian asked.
“Marriage without love. Doesn’t sound very appealing, but thanks for asking...again.”
“It could be,” he said and turned around to stare below. “One year, Becca. That’s all I need. My ma can die a happy woman.”
“Believing a lie. Why don’t you just tell her the truth? You’ll never settle down and quit chasing skirts. She loves you, Ian. She’ll understand.”
“Nae, she willnae.”
“Sorry, the answer’s still no. I just…can’t,” Becca said, moving away from him. How was she to explain that she would never have a full night’s rest again, not while the killer she was mentally connected with was roaming the city free to claim more victims. It had started to become routine to wake up in the morning, from her own screams, as she witnessed the phantom crime in her sleep. “I just can’t.”
Ian placed a warm palm on her arm. “Your sister once asked me what I was running from. I dinnae know the answer then, but I ken it now. What is it you’re running from, Becca?”
