he had just for this purpose before he stripped off his red-smeared clothes and mask. The gilded hawk nose of the Inquisition mask stared back up at him. Daring him to complete his plan.
Oh, he was going to complete his plan, all right. This near miss only galvanized him to action. Lastly, he tossed two spanking new tickets to the All Hallow’s Eve bash down onto his bed.
Tonight was going to be the night of his life. Tonight, they would all see what he was capable of.
If they were freaked out by the previous murders, well…
The killer smiled as he wiped the blood from his hands.
* * *
Paxton tried to keep his attention on the report he was typing, but Darby just wouldn’t shut up. He rattled the bars of the holding cell.
“You can’t keep me here!”
“Watch me,” Paxton answered flatly.
“I’m claustrophobic!”
Paxton rolled his eyes, making sure that Ruth was catching all this great wacko action. “Yeah, right.”
Darby’s tone lowered, almost pleading. “I only gave that poor man his last rites. I did nothing to harm his corporeal shell.”
“Sure, you’re just the picture of civic pride.”
Ruth frowned, “Paxton…”
He gave an exaggerated shrug. “What?”
“You know what the DA instructed.”
Paxton did. However, he was finding it harder and harder to comply. But having a suspect with known mental illness, even though he had waived his right to counsel, presented a sticky situation. If Darby were not completely mentally capable at the time he signed such a waiver, it would be null and void. Which meant anything obtained during questioning could be thrown out at trial.
It hurt Paxton’s brain to think crap like that through. Thankfully, the guy had basically confessed as soon as they walked into the sauna. A classic spontaneous utterance. Sane or crazy, those usually held up in court pretty darn well.
But until a shrink showed up to assess Darby’s mental status, they were not allowed to question him, or even talk to him really, but Paxton was pretty sure making fun of the guy was okay.
He went to tell Ruth that much, but her frown deepened, and she said his name more like a growl than a word. “Paxton.”
Behind him, Darby pleaded, “Please, there was a devil in a cape. It was he who sundered that poor soul.”
Paxton snorted. He didn’t think that was off-limits by the DA, but Ruth’s frown only worsened. She tapped her pen on the desk across from him. “You know, two other witnesses did mention a costumed—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He knew this side of Ruth. The self-doubting side. She questioned every piece of evidence. Every word of a confession. She weighed it all, trying to find a flaw. Paxton knew her history, and especially after the bookstore incident earlier, he knew that she did not want to get “caught with her pants down” again, but damn, it wore on his nerves. For once, they had an open-and-shut case.
“It’s Halloween week, and in that part of town, I think we can assume that a few dozen people were running around in costume.”
Ruth got up from her side of the desk and sat next to him. Was that a universal chick thing? That having her body so close would distract a guy and convince him to do what she wanted? As the smell of fresh strawberries drifted over from her form, Paxton was pretty sure that it was universal—and that it worked.
“I totally get the whole Halloween thing,” Ruth said, “but we really didn’t investigate the crime scene very thoroughly.”
“Um, because we caught the killer red-handed. Like literally, blood-smeared red.”
Ruth seemed undeterred, though. “But what if he had an accomplice?”
Paxton looked over at the crazed man. “First off, who’s going to team up with that ? And second, we may not have gone over the crime scene, but forensics went over that sauna and locker room with the proverbial fine-tooth comb.”
She nodded. However, Paxton didn’t feel like she agreed with him at all.
“But
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