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Authors: Rita Herron
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resurfaced to kill Marlena as he’d been ordered to do.
Anxious to make sure she was safe, he rushed to the car and opened the door. “It’s clear.” He swallowed again, disturbed by his reaction to her. The slow burn of arousal heated his blood. Her scent enveloped him, the scent of an animal on the prowl recognizing its mate.
He’d never expected Marlena to make him feel like this, have this instant attraction to her. This dark… lust.
This damn need…
The wind whistled shrilly, catching her shimmering hair and swirling it around her face, making her look almost ethereal. Reining in the fire in his fingertips and inwardly adjusting his body temperature, he cleared his throat. “Did you see anyone when you arrived?”
“No, but I saw a shadow in the woods.”
“Then he’s gone for now. Let’s go inside,” he said. “You can check and see if anything is missing.”
She clutched her coat around her and rushed up the drive and porch steps. He followed, stowing his gun in his holster. Not that a gun would have been effective against a demon.
His hands would, though—they were lethal weapons, always ready.
She hesitated in the doorway, her gaze falling to the scattered childhood drawings, a shuttered expression slamming down over her face.
Her jaw set tight, she scooped them up and put them on the desk.
“Nothing appears to be disturbed in any of the rooms except this one,” he said. “But you can check.”
She gave a nod. “I don’t know why anyone would search my desk.”
“Do you have important work documents here?”
She shook her head. “In my laptop but nothing in that desk. My confidential files are locked in my office. And I don’t have any valuables.”
“Maybe you forgot to lock the door,” he suggested.
“No,” Marlena said. “Someone was here. I saw a silhouette of a man in the woods before you arrived. And the wind didn’t open those drawers.”
He conceded that point, but kept his suspicions to himself. A spirit of some kind was here, watching her. Watching him.
A spirit with sinister motives.
He’d felt it, smelled the foul odor of evil, the moment he’d entered the house.
“Did you see anything distinguishing?” Dante asked.
“No, it was too dark.” She folded her arms. “Do you think it was the killer?”
Dante shrugged, but anxiety riddled him. “It’s possible. Did you review your patient files and find anyone who fits the profile of the killer?”
Hesitation lit her eyes. “Actually, one of my patients escaped the mental institution today.”
Alarm bells went off in his head. “Is he dangerous?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s possible,” she said.
Dante jammed his fists on his hips. “Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
“Dr. Chambers phoned your office and told your deputy. He said he’d issue an APB for him.”
Dante took her arm and forced her to look at him. “Sit down, Marlena, and tell me everything you know about this guy.”
Marlena hesitated, then sighed. “His name is Gerald Daumer. He suffers from obsessive-compulsive disorder. When he came in to see me, he was extremely agitated, ranting about voices ordering him to do bad things.”
His interest was piqued. “Go on.”
She stood, then paced by the fireplace, rubbing her hand up and down her shoulder bag.
“Marlena, what happened?”
“He kept talking about blood being on his hands, on the floor and walls,” she said in a shaky voice. “I was concerned, but I couldn’t be sure if he was delusional or if he was talking about something that had actually happened. When I pressed him for details, and asked him if he’d carried out the violent acts, he became even more agitated. Even incoherent.”
She pushed her tangled hair from her face. “I had to sedate him. Then I ordered tests, a CAT scan, complete neurological workup, and bloodwork to determine if the problem was physical, a chemical imbalance, or psychological. I’d planned to question him further once
Anxious to make sure she was safe, he rushed to the car and opened the door. “It’s clear.” He swallowed again, disturbed by his reaction to her. The slow burn of arousal heated his blood. Her scent enveloped him, the scent of an animal on the prowl recognizing its mate.
He’d never expected Marlena to make him feel like this, have this instant attraction to her. This dark… lust.
This damn need…
The wind whistled shrilly, catching her shimmering hair and swirling it around her face, making her look almost ethereal. Reining in the fire in his fingertips and inwardly adjusting his body temperature, he cleared his throat. “Did you see anyone when you arrived?”
“No, but I saw a shadow in the woods.”
“Then he’s gone for now. Let’s go inside,” he said. “You can check and see if anything is missing.”
She clutched her coat around her and rushed up the drive and porch steps. He followed, stowing his gun in his holster. Not that a gun would have been effective against a demon.
His hands would, though—they were lethal weapons, always ready.
She hesitated in the doorway, her gaze falling to the scattered childhood drawings, a shuttered expression slamming down over her face.
Her jaw set tight, she scooped them up and put them on the desk.
“Nothing appears to be disturbed in any of the rooms except this one,” he said. “But you can check.”
She gave a nod. “I don’t know why anyone would search my desk.”
“Do you have important work documents here?”
She shook her head. “In my laptop but nothing in that desk. My confidential files are locked in my office. And I don’t have any valuables.”
“Maybe you forgot to lock the door,” he suggested.
“No,” Marlena said. “Someone was here. I saw a silhouette of a man in the woods before you arrived. And the wind didn’t open those drawers.”
He conceded that point, but kept his suspicions to himself. A spirit of some kind was here, watching her. Watching him.
A spirit with sinister motives.
He’d felt it, smelled the foul odor of evil, the moment he’d entered the house.
“Did you see anything distinguishing?” Dante asked.
“No, it was too dark.” She folded her arms. “Do you think it was the killer?”
Dante shrugged, but anxiety riddled him. “It’s possible. Did you review your patient files and find anyone who fits the profile of the killer?”
Hesitation lit her eyes. “Actually, one of my patients escaped the mental institution today.”
Alarm bells went off in his head. “Is he dangerous?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s possible,” she said.
Dante jammed his fists on his hips. “Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
“Dr. Chambers phoned your office and told your deputy. He said he’d issue an APB for him.”
Dante took her arm and forced her to look at him. “Sit down, Marlena, and tell me everything you know about this guy.”
Marlena hesitated, then sighed. “His name is Gerald Daumer. He suffers from obsessive-compulsive disorder. When he came in to see me, he was extremely agitated, ranting about voices ordering him to do bad things.”
His interest was piqued. “Go on.”
She stood, then paced by the fireplace, rubbing her hand up and down her shoulder bag.
“Marlena, what happened?”
“He kept talking about blood being on his hands, on the floor and walls,” she said in a shaky voice. “I was concerned, but I couldn’t be sure if he was delusional or if he was talking about something that had actually happened. When I pressed him for details, and asked him if he’d carried out the violent acts, he became even more agitated. Even incoherent.”
She pushed her tangled hair from her face. “I had to sedate him. Then I ordered tests, a CAT scan, complete neurological workup, and bloodwork to determine if the problem was physical, a chemical imbalance, or psychological. I’d planned to question him further once
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