Page 22 of The Quiet Witness

Her killer held a place for art in his cold heart.

Or for you.

She shook the thought away. No way in hell.

He raised a hand, palm out.

Kate flinched slightly. But her body… it was paralyzed. She could only watch as he reached out slowly, carefully, to… slip the stem over her ear. Her breath hitched, the only sign her shivering body allowed.

He stepped back, admiring his work with a firm nod. “It suits you.” Another one of his winks followed, the movement less… teasing and more tentative. “For all your denial, you know I’m right. There is a killer within you. I felt it crawling underneath that skin of yours.” Another step back, allowing air to slip in between them. “Nothing to be ashamed of.” He smiled at her, standing there like a statue of ice. “Maybe best to head inside, before you start mirroring the scenery.” He chuckled. Whirling around to finish cleaning his ride.

Kate spun around, leaving sunken footsteps in the snow. She raced up the stairs to the house. Hand tight on the rose pressing behind her ear.

Chapter 9

Roses Are Black

You let them.

She nearly crushed the rose beneath her fingers.

Who the hell did he think he was? Telling her she allowed her abuse to take place. Oh, he was good. Real good. Trying to intrude on her mind. But if anything, her troubled youth had taught her well. Instilling the belief in small, near insignificant things. A rose surviving the harsh winter. DNA waiting to be collected and handed in as evidence.

Hope for change. She dropped the black and white beauty on the counter. Closing her fist over thin air. It was magnificent, really. More than that… a symbol of survival.

Thanks for giving me that, Lucy.

She snorted. Only one regret troubled her mind. She should have grabbed the rose and shoved it against his chest, should have said something, anything. Instead, she froze. Kate wheeled around, rummaging through the cupboards until she found an elegant round glass.

Picking up the rose, she twirled it around before plopping it into the glass. Fuck. Blood trickled down her index finger, mingling with the immaculate white counter. She sucked on the finger, bending down to check for the thorn his knife had missed. There, beneath the thawing green leaf, a prickly trap waited to draw blood.

Hmmm. DNA. Her lips widened into an excited smile.

Oh… he was going to regret his latest move.

***

Boots stomped in front of the door. A second later the door handle beeped. It was all the warning she needed to flop down on the couch. Book in hand while sucking in deep breaths of air to steady her nervous breathing.

Goosebumps rose along her skin as the cold wind gushed throughout the house. Huddling deeper under the blanket, she stared at the words in her book, blurring into a soup of ink.

Kate tracked his movements from the corner of her eye.

Lucien shoved the door key in the back pocket of his black sweats, taking off his sweater to dump it straight into the fireplace. And finally, hunching over to light the remnants of evidence on fire.

His shoulders stiffened. “What’s that smell?”

Fuck… so soon.

The pages crumpled in her hands.

“Katherine.” Ouch. Full name. That couldn’t be good.

Finally, she raised her eyes over the cover of her book, raising an eyebrow in question.

“What’s. That. Smell?” He asked again, intensity weighing down his voice.

Sweetly, she asked, “What smell would that be?”