Page 112 of Over the Edge

Women were more trouble than they were worth.

But he’d come too far down this path to backtrack. And he’d earned the payoff, even if he’d continue to pay a price for it well into the future.

Summoning up his energy, he pushed himself to his feet, circled his desk, and retrieved his coat from the closet. As soon as he picked up his antibiotic, he was going home andcrashing. If the drugs kicked in, maybe by tomorrow his fever would be down and the pain in his arm would subside.

He shook his head in disgust.

Getting a tattoo to please Shelley was more proof of the folly of love. Or infatuation. Or whatever he’d felt for her long ago that had faded to nothing as the years passed.

Anthony eased his arm into the sleeve of his coat, flinching as the fabric put pressure on the bandage covering his sensitive skin—and trying not to think about the painful sessions yet to come over multiple months and the long drive to Columbia each time to minimize the risk of being recognized.

He settled the coat on his shoulders and exhaled.

The only positive on this cold, stressful night?

Despite the slipup with the car that had ruined all the work they’d done to cast doubt on Lindsey’s mental health, and despite her resurfacing memories, there was virtually no chance the police would ever be able to pin James Robertson’s murder on him.

After all, he had an airtight alibi, thanks to the professional conference he’d attended in Clayton that day. People constantly slipped in and out of sessions to take client calls, so no one had paid any attention when he’d left soon after one began and came in late to another after he returned following the lunch break.

And no one had seen him at the vacant house next to the Robertson place that had provided perfect cover. It had been a simple matter to cut through the bushes separating the properties, let himself in, and wait for the victim to come home.

Everything would have gone like clockwork if Lindsey hadn’t shown up.

He muttered a word he would never use in front of clientsas he stepped out of his office suite and locked the door behind him.

If he was lucky, everything would quiet down and there would be no reason to take another life.

But an unnerving sixth sense told him his luck was running out ... and that Lindsey’s days were numbered.

Twenty-Four

“READY TO CALL IT A NIGHT?”Cate clapped a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn. “I’m beat.”

“I hear you. I’ve been going nonstop since sunrise.” Jack twisted his wrist to see his watch. “That would be eighteen hours ago, give or take.”

“I’m in the same boat. Unless you can think of anyone else to interview tonight, I say we’re done.”

“No one who can’t wait until tomorrow. As far as I can see, this has crime of passion written all over it.” Jack scanned the scene in the suburban home where the tragedy had unfolded. The two bodies had been removed, and the betrayed wife who’d apparently sought revenge was in custody. Every interview had painted a picture of a love triangle gone awry.

“I agree. We’ll compare notes in the morning.” She pulled a knit cap over her ponytail. “Midmorning. I’m sleeping in.”

“You’re the lead on this one, you set the schedule. And that works for me. I wouldn’t mind clocking an extra hour or two myself after our late night.”

“Speaking of late nights—did all of this interrupt your plans for the evening?” She swept a hand over the scene, where the CSU techs continued to work.

“Nothing that can’t be rescheduled.” The only upside to cancelling tonight’s cheesecake rendezvous with Lindsey was that he still had it to look forward to.

A definite spirit-lifter.

“I get the feeling your plans would have been a whole lot more pleasant than this.”

Jack flattened the slight bow in his lips. Nothing got past Cate. His fellow detective and Bri were cast from the same mold. “Anything would be more pleasant than this.”

“True.” Cate perused him for a beat, then moved on to a different topic. “I heard about the blood on the Robertson witness’s car. Maybe that will lead somewhere.”

“Not yet. There wasn’t a DNA match in the databases.”

Cate’s eyebrows peaked. “You got DNA run already?”

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