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Swallowing the anger burning at the back of my throat, I continued.

“I’m sorry, Rose, but I’ll find who did this to you and when I do, I’ll mutilate him the same way he did to you.”

Not that it was going to save her or bring her back, but she deserved justice, and he deserved pain.

I checked her eyes, gently lifting each lid to examine the sclera, noting the signs of petechiae—she died of strangulation.

I reached for a tongue depressor and an otoscope, prying her mouth open to examine her throat. My eyes narrowed when I saw something blocking her throat.

“What’s that? Did you eat something?” I murmured, grabbing a pair of long-nosed forceps. Carefully, I pulled it. My breath hitched.

A petal. White, fragile, and unmistakable.

A gardenia petal.

I went back in, and there were more. Choked by a flower.

I placed the petals, one by fucking one, on the collection tray. The petals were stained with blood.

His thirst for violence was escalating.

With a frown, I cut her body open, taking note of every detail.

Her lungs were bluish and darker due to oxygen deprivation. I collected blood and tissue samples to check for poisons and drugs, and continued to work late into the evening.

When Detective Rosario walked in with Detective Myers, I was still deep, trying to find something, anything.

“What can you give me?”

“Nothing. Other than what is obvious.” I showed the gardenia petals to him. “I found this in her throat.”

“He’s pissed, and wants us to know it. We forced him to switch up his original plan,” Detective Myers said. He was sweating even in this cold.

“I should’ve listened to Sinclair.” Detective Rosario’s voice was tight. “I should have dug deeper.”

“This isn’t on anyone,” I said.

“No, it’s on us.” Detective Rosario looked beyond sad.

I walked them through everything I noticed on her body. When I was done, the men looked pale, horrified.

“I’ll send the sample to the forensics lab for more,” I said to the detectives.

“Let us know if you find anything that might help,” Detective Myers said as I walked upstairs with the evidence bags.

“I wanted these tested for drugs.”

“I’ll put a rush on it,” Jack said, taking the tray from me. “Oh, and Doctor West, the Bible verse you gave me. Sorry, it took me a while, but I did run a paper composition and ink analysis on your evidence. The paper is rag-based. It is probably pre-1800s. They don’t make Bibles like those now. It looks hand-printed and has irregularities in letter spacing.”

“It’s old,” I muttered.

“This might be a specialized edition.” He walked toward his desk and grabbed a brown folder. “The report, Doctor West.”

“Thank you.”

My heart was thundering when I walked out of the office, leafing through the papers.

“You are such a twisted, cruel bitch, Patricia.”