Page 46 of Locked In Ice

“No, I’m just saying—you actually know me a hell of a lot better than most people do.Maybe that’s good.Maybe it’s bad.I don’t know.”Her hands fell.Fisted.She started to pace once more.“How can he be back?”

The most obvious solution had to be voiced.“Maybe he was never dead.”

Her pacing stopped.She slanted a glance his way.“I put a bullet in his heart.Pretty sure that hit sent him to hell.And I was standing right over him—with his blood spatteronme—as he took his last breath.”

Okay, so that would cover thehowpart of the equation.“You shot him when you were a Fed.”

“Junior Fed.Fresh-faced and looking to prove myself.”Her eyes squeezed closed.“I warned them.They should have listened to me.Instead, they told me I was wrong.”

He leaned forward.His hands dropped to dangle between his spread knees.“Who did you warn?”

Her eyes opened.The pale blue echoed with pain.

“Ophelia?”

“I do know a lot about you.I wouldn’t have agreed to take you on if I hadn’t done my research.And it was done long before I sat down in Pyro with Memphis.”

He’d already suspected that.“You started researching me when we met on the ice-skating case, didn’t you?”The case that had first brought her crashing into his life.

“You interested me.The innocent man thrown into the cell.The prisoner who escaped because he wanted to protect his sister.The tarnished hero.”

He shifted on the couch.“Don’t believe all the hype.”

“You don’t see yourself as a hero?”

More as a villain.“My sister was in danger, yes, but so was I.If I’d stayed in that cell another night, I would have been dead.”

“Judging by the scar on your side, you were pretty close to death.”

“I know how to take a hit without dying.”

She crept closer to him.Not tense pacing.Careful, slow movements.And her stare never left his face.“You made your injury seem worse than it was so that you could get to the infirmary.From there, your escape was much easier.”

“You don’t expect someone at death’s door to suddenly mount an escape.”She was right in front of him now.If he lifted his arms, he could wrap them around her waist.Do not touch her.He knew better than to lift his arms.He’d learned his lesson in the hotel room.When he touched Ophelia, he lost control.

“You think it’s possible I didn’t kill him, don’t you?That my shot missed and the killer somehow escaped.That he faked his death.”

“I don’t know what to think.You’ve barely told me anything.”No, actually, he did know one thing for certain.“The dead don’t come back and kill.So either your perp isn’t in the ground—and you made a mistake when you thought you’d killed him—or someone else is hunting in his place.”His head tilted back as he stared up at her.“Or, option three, the string didn’t mean a damn thing.”

“It’s the small details that are important.Most serials have signatures.Consider that part of your training.And the signature has meaning.Always.That can be lesson six.”She licked her lips.“Signatures mean something.They can often mean everything.”

Do not touch her.“And the meaning of the string?Care to enlighten me?”

“He doesn’t forget what they’ve done.”

Lane’s brows lowered.“What who has done?”

“The victims.He’s judge, jury, and executioner.”Her hand rose and curled over his shoulder.“The guilty must be punished.”

The heat from her touch seemed to burn right through him.But…more.Her words sent unease slithering through his veins.

“In TV shows and movies, we root for the protagonist when he goes after bad guys.It’s okay for the bad guys to get tortured and murdered in horror films, because they deserve it, right?So when he started his crimes, I think some people looked away.Until they couldn’t.”

Lane was trying to follow along.And not liking where this was going.“He took out killers.”

“Not just killers.Some were guilty of assault.Rape.Arson.If he found your crime, he’d go after you.”Her hand lifted.She took a step back.

His hand flew up and curled around hers.

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