So she could die easily or she could fight.
Sara dove for the right, surging toward that lamp. Her fingers stretched. She almost had it. Almost—
His body collided with hers, and she fell to the floor. They hit the end table on their way down, and the impact sent the lamp crashing down with them.
“Goodbye, sweet Sara,” he whispered to her.
She opened her mouth to scream.
His left hand clamped over her lips and his right—his right drove the blade of the knife into her heart.
Chapter Eleven
They arrived on the scene silently. No siren. No screeching brakes. Skye knew that they were trying not to alert the killer who could be waiting with Sara.
Alex and Trace jumped from the car. Skye hurried right after them. Two more vehicles pulled up behind Alex’s car, braking to a quick stop. Black SUVs. Three men and two women in suits climbed from those vehicles and immediately headed toward Trace.
Trace’s agents.
“Cover the back stairs,” he said, pointing toward half of that new group. “Then you guys cover the front.”
The remaining agents nodded.
Trace glanced at Alex. “And I’m guessing you’re going to want to lead the charge inside.”
“With you right behind me, huh, Weston?”
“No,” a sharp voice called out. Skye turned to see Reese rushing toward them. “With us right behind you.”
Alex pulled out his gun. He nodded and took off.
Skye hesitated. What was—
Trace caught her fingers in his. “You came here, and I’m damn well not leaving you alone for a second. That SOB could be watching us right now, waiting for another attack.”
They hurried inside the complex. An old converted warehouse, the place was now full of high-end condos. Trace got them immediate access to that building. He had Sara’s key code, and that code opened the entrance gate in seconds.
They hurried up the stairs. Stopped on the second floor.
“She’s number two-oh-six,” Trace said.
Alex stopped in front of the indicated door. That door was ajar, open just a few inches.
Alex and Trace shared a hard look, then the detective rushed inside. “Sara Kramer!”
There was no answer. There was only thick silence, then, Alex snarled, “Dammit, no!”
Trace leapt inside. Skye and Reese were with him, and they only had to take a few steps before they saw Alex. He was bent on the floor, crouched over the prone body of Sara Kramer.
Skye’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, an instinctive reaction. Blood soaked Sara’s robe. And there was a big, gaping wound where her throat should have been.
Just like Parker.
Sara’s throat had been slit open, a wound that stretched from ear to ear.
Alex yanked out his phone. As he surged to his feet, she heard him say, “This is Detective Alex Griffin, badge number four—one—one—eight. . I’m at a murder scene. Brighton Condominiums, number two-oh-six.”
A soft knock sounded at the door behind them.
Skye whirled around.
The unlocked door swung open. A woman stood there. A woman with hair the same light blonde shade as Sara’s. Her eyes were like Sara’s, too—a deep blue.
The woman hesitated as she stood there. “I, um, I’m looking for my sister—”
No, dear God, no. Skye rushed toward her, trying to grab the woman before she could see the body on the floor.
“Her name’s Sara Kramer,” the blonde continued, stepping forward, “and she’s—”
Skye shoved the woman back toward the door. A hard shove that sent the other lady stumbling with a yelp. “No!” Skye snapped. “You can’t—”
“Who are you?” The blonde demanded. “What’s happening? Where is Sara?”
She’s dead on the floor. And you don’t need to see her that way. You don’t. “I’m sorry,” Skye said, dropping her voice. “Something has happened.”
The blonde grabbed Skye’s hands. “To Sara?”
Trace came to stand behind Skye. “You’re Claire. Sara told me that you were coming to town.”
Claire frowned at him, then her eyes widened with recognition. “You…you’re Mr. Weston, Sara’s boss, right?” Claire appeared to be about twenty-five or twenty-six. She was slender, her skin a soft gold, and her expression was slowly becoming terrified. “Please tell me what’s happening.”
Sirens screamed from outside.
“I’m sorry,” Skye whispered. Claire was still holding her hands in a tight grip. Claire’s gaze was now full of fear and desperation. Tell her. “Your sister is dead.”
Claire shook her head. “No.”
“A detective is in there now. More police are coming.”
“No!”
“We need to go downstairs,” Skye said. “The apartment…it’s a…crime scene.”
Claire tried to lunge past Skye, but Trace caught her, stopping her before she could burst back into Sara’s place. “You don’t want to see her like that,” he told her, voice soft, sad. “You don’t.”
“Sara!” Claire screamed.
Then the tears broke from her.
***
Trace stood in his office, his gaze on the city that spread out before him. Noah and Drake were seated behind him. After Sara’s death, he’d had to call them both in.
“He used Sara,” Trace said, his shoulders stiff. “In order to get close to me. He gained access to my personal phone line.” He turned toward them. “The SOB hijacked the line to make a call to Skye. He could’ve lured her any place.”