Page 23 of The Crime of Intensity

“He could already have a new victim or is searching for one. He keeps them alive to torture and when he kills and dumps them, he won’t go days without getting his next fix. Davey has been escalating ever since he killed his superior. Killing his mother out of revenge was his first kill. We might need to dig into cold cases involving stabbings. For someone like him to have killed and then six years of nothing until another woman pisses him off again?”

I know what Kathleen means by her statement. “He could have killed others, though it also makes sense that Anne triggered something that reminded him of the day Beth was killed, along with him killing his mother.”

“I agree,” Dean mutters. “Carville mentioned Anne and Davey had a huge argument the day she went missing. I will still check, though.”

Dean slides out of the booth. “With this said, I gotta get some work done now that we’ve blown this case wide open.”

“Anything we can do?” Kathleen questions.

Dean rubs two fingers against his chiseled jaw. “Just watch your back.” His gaze slides to me. “I know your old lady won’t like it, but I suggest you take point until we catch this fucker.”

“I’m the sheriff,” Kathleen snaps.

Dean holds the file up. “I’m more than aware, darlin’. I’m only trying to warn you guys of the fact that I got a heads-up that the press got wind of a serial killer in town.”

“Fuck,” I grumble.

“Dammit,” Kathleen mutters and releases a deep sigh. “I know what you mean. I even suggested to Marvin I could draw him out.”

“Not happening,” I instantly growl.

“I’m with my brother on this.” Dean pins her with a hard look. “We already lost two agents along with a few other strong women. We’re going to handle this the smart way and catch the fucker without putting anyone at risk. No undercover shit, no martyr actions, or vigilante shit.”

“Old fashioned policework?” Kathleen grins. “Good thing we excel in all fields of law enforcement.”

“Damn right.” Dean lifts his chin in my direction. “Call Dad, he was asking about the ranch you bought. And dude? Why the hell didn’t you say anything to any of us?”

I want to snap how it’s none of anyone’s business, but I take satisfaction in the way Kathleen takes it upon herself to answer, “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. The ranch went on sale as soon as he placed the bid. It’s gorgeous. I’ve had my eye on it for years and knew it would become available soon. The man who lived there wanted to move and he finally decided it was time.”

“With both of us working non-stop we’ll keep our horses at the Iron Hot Blood ranch for now. After we’ve made a list of what work needs to be done and shit, we’ll invite you over,” I tell him. “Mind passing Dad the message? ’Cause I know you’ll be giving him an update anyway and we have to get back to the station now.”

“Sure thing,” Dean states. “But I’m going to hold you to the invitation. Also, name your first kid after me. You are trying to knock her up, right?”

“Fuck off,” I growl with a smile tugging my mouth, liking the way Kathleen’s cheeks heat.

All the shit going on around us doesn’t diminish the fact that I’m fucking happy. And I do hope I knocked her up, or she will be soon enough. Moving forward step by step. We’re together, bought a house, and the sex is off the charts. I’d say we’re skipping toward a nice and bright future together.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

– KATHLEEN –

“We are not naming any of our kids after that annoying brother of yours,” I grumble and park in front of the station.

Dammit. Dean wasn’t kidding when he mentioned the press getting wind of the serial killer. There are several news station trucks parked on the street and some journalists are interviewing people in front of the coffee shop.

“Marvin Junior has a better ring to it anyway.” Marvin shoots me a wink and gets out of the car before I can so much as smack him upside the head.

I’m about to head straight into the station, but my attention is drawn to the people across the street. One of the news crew is harassing Mrs. Johnson who clearly doesn’t want to be on TV while a drunken Mr. Hemwig is trying to get some screen time. Anger surges through me and without thinking I whirl around and cross the road.

“Hey,” I snap to catch the interviewer’s attention. “Quit harassing people in their own damn town. And you.” I point right at the camera. “Stop filming right now.”

The interviewer starts to sputter something about freedom of speech.

Ignoring everyone I give my full attention to Mrs. Johnson. “Go right in, Ma’am. I’m sure the others are waiting for you to join them.”

Mrs. Johnson gives me a thankful smile and reaches out to squeeze my hand. “You’re a doll, Kathleen.”

Behind me, Mr. Hemwig is blabbering about his cows getting slaughtered like pigs by a serial killer. Ugh, that drunk bastard is causing unnecessary drama just to get a listening ear from someone.

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