She didn’t know Parker Jacobs. She’d never seen him in her life, not until Detective Griffin had shown her photos of the dead man.
The photos had brought back too many dark memories for Sara.
So much blood.
She’d been afraid. If Trace was a killer, if he’d done that…then I didn’t have a choice.
She took a step toward her lover. She’d kept on her heels, for him. He liked her in heels and nothing else. “Please make me forget,” she said, and Sara hated that a pleading note had entered her voice. She’d meant to sound seductive.
He bent toward his boots. Lifted up the left leg of his pants.
Sara frowned. What was he—
A knife was strapped to his ankle.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he rose, that knife gripped easily in his hand. “Soon you won’t need to forget anything.”
No, no. This was not happening.
“Y-you can’t be serious.” Her voice shook. Her whole bodyshook. “Is this some kind of game? Because I don’t like it.” Not with her past.
“I’m very serious.” The blade gleamed. He stepped toward her. “You’ve worked with Trace for several years now. You’ve been his confidant.”
She grabbed the robe. Yanked it over her shoulders. Her gaze flew around the room. She had to find a weapon. Had to run.
“So I think you should be the one to call Trace. Who knows…maybe he’ll even get here in time to save you.”
She was crying. The tears had leaked from her eyes and fallen down her cheeks. That terrible image of the dead man—his slashed throat, his bloody chest—flashed through her mind once more. “It was you.” Why?
“Sometimes you think you know someone.” He looked down at the knife. “But you only know what that person shows you. The deepest, darkest parts of ourselves are always hidden.”
She spun to run.
Sara made it two feet when he grabbed her. He yanked her head back, gripping her hair tightly, and he put the knife to her throat.
Sara whimpered.
“Listen carefully,” he whispered into her ear. “Because I need you to relay a very specific message for me.”
***
The cops had tossed his place, and they sure appeared to have enjoyed the job.
Someone’s ass is going to get burned because of this.
“Are they supposed to leave it wrecked like this?” Skye asked as she bent to grab some fallen couch pillows.
“No,” Trace growled. “They’re not.” Alex was playing out of his league, and the detective was about to get slapped back into his normal game position. He reached for his phone.
It rang, vibrating as it gave a quick peal of sound. Trace glanced at the flat surface of the phone’s screen and saw Sara Kramer’s face. Frowning, he answered, “Sara? What’s going on?”
At first, he only heard silence. Then…
A gasp?
“Sara?”
Skye glanced up at the sharp bite in his voice.
“You n-need to know…” Sara said quietly.
“What is it? Sara, are you okay?”
“You n-need to know what it feels like…” Sara was whispering. And crying?
“Sara, are you alone?” Because he was afraid that she wasn’t.
A sob. Choked off. Then, “You’ll know what it-it feels like to…lose it all…”
His blood chilled.