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“Of course,” she said. “How long do you estimate it will be until my sister is taken up to a room?”

Holmes’s eyes darted toward Turner but he answered, “Unfortunately, it may still be an hour or two.”

“Plenty of time,” Turner said with an insincere smile.

“Someone will come get you when it’s ready,” Holmes told Trinity, who thanked him. “I’m sorry to hear about the, uh, murder.”

Trinity’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “That’s very kind.”

Holmes’s lips thinned for a brief moment. The look he gave Trinity was almost fatherly. “Were you close to her?”

“No,” Trinity replied. “It was someone I had interviewed.”

“Someone you— Oh.” Dr. Holmes’s features slackened as the realization hit. Unless they lived under a rock, nearly everyone in Denton knew exactly who Trinity had just interviewed. “That’s just horrible. The poor woman. Her poor family. Just tragic.”

Turner’s fingers tapped at a frantic speed. Josie shot him a look that said: keep your big, rude mouth shut. He rolled his eyes at her but kept quiet.

Holmes shook his head as if shaking off a reverie and pasted on a benign smile. “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Once the door clicked behind him, Drake said, “What was that?”

Turner shrugged. “He’s taking up valuable time. Anyway, Miss Payne, let’s start from the beginning.”

Seven

Pressure built in his chest as he followed the woman up a set of stairs to her apartment. It was almost painful. Whether it was nerves or anticipation he wasn’t sure, but he liked it. Liked the way it stirred the rabid thing that lived inside him. He was so tired of beating it back, of trying to reason with it, of starving it.

“It’s just up here,” she said over her shoulder, giving him a coy smile. “Sorry for all the steps.”

Her apartment was the only one on the second floor. That was good. Fewer people meant fewer potential witnesses. As she fit her key into the lock, she looked back at him again. This time, her smile was nervous. Pink crept up her throat to her face. They stepped over the threshold and she locked the door behind them. “I don’t normally do this,” she said.

He took in her tidy living space. It was cozy and inviting. “Do what?”

Leaning her back against the door, she said, “Bring random guys home with me late at night.”

Giving her his best good-guy smile, he said, “I don’t have to stay.”

He had no intention of leaving. At least, not until he did what he came to do.

That seemed to soothe some of her nerves. “No, no. I want you to stay.”

He’d spent two nights in a crowded bar giving her the kind of connection he knew she needed in order to get them to this very moment. The advantage of the venue was that he blended in, and he was sure that among the throngs of patrons he wouldn’t be very noticeable if police checked the security footage later.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time,” she added, the flush on her cheeks deepening.

“We can go slow,” he told her. “Can I kiss you?”

“Um, yes.” She let him move closer, let him put his hand on her neck. Under his thumb, her pulse raced. The kiss was brief and tentative but her body went taut immediately. She pushed at his chest, putting a few inches of space between them.

He dropped his hand from her neck. “What’s wrong?”

Without making eye contact, she shook her head. “Nothing. I just… I just don’t think I can do this.”

He ignored the sting of her rejection even though it didn’t matter. This only cemented his resolve. He’d chosen this woman because she reminded him of her, even though outwardly they weren’t similar at all.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, pushing him back another step. “I thought I was ready but I’m just not. You should probably go.”

The pressure in his chest felt like it might split him apart. The ugly thing inside needed to be sated. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “No problem.”