Page 116 of Brutal Ice

The man who’d also killed Marcella White, Bailey Brown, and Fiona Law.

And the other vics that the doctor of the dead had unearthed at the winery? Would they have ever been recovered? Or would the case have ended with Micah’s dead body?

Did someone want it all to end with him? With Simone’s dying breath, she’d said Micah’s name. But had that been because Micah was guilty of her murder? Or had Simone been trying to tell them something else?

The pieces all just did not fit.

“Fuck.” Curran yanked out his phone and called Royal. But the line just rang and rang and rang.

“Hello, Dr. Barnes,” Royal said, his voice as smooth as silk. The rage had vanished from his expression. No emotion showed on his face at all.

“Surprised?” Leo Barnes asked. His breath blew over the shell of Violet’s ear as he urged her forward. She heard him kick the door shut behind them. No soft click following the closing, though. He hadn’t locked the door.

“I’m not particularly surprised.” Royal shrugged. “I know Micah wasn’t the killer.”

“Oh?”

“Some things didn’t add?—”

Royal’s phone started to ring.

“Turn it off and put it on the desk,” Leo snarled, “or I will cut her throat open and you can watch her bleed out right in front of you.”

Violet sucked in a breath. And her right hand slid down her body. She dipped it beneath the flowing edge of her oversized blouse. Slid her fingers into her pocket.

Royal turned off his phone and tossed it face down onto his desk. “Happy?”

“You realized it was me.”

Leo stood right behind her. His body pressed against her back, and that damn knife lingered at her throat.

“I saw it in your eyes, at the theater. You were suspicious of me,” Leo accused. “Realized I had to follow you here. I did plan on a different ending, but you made me change things. What’s happening here is on you.”

Violet’s heart drummed in a double-time rhythm.

But Royal looked as cool as could be as he studied the killer. After a tense, silent moment, Royal said, “You planned for me to kill Micah Wright. You’re the one who lured him to the station, aren’t you? Did you make Simone call both him and Violet?”

“Guilty,” Leo confessed. And he sounded proud of himself.

Royal’s lips twisted. His eyes glinted. “You thought he’d take the fall for all of your crimes, and with me killing him, the cops would have to tie me to the vigilante hunts. Micah would be gone, and so would I. He’d be in a grave. I’d be in a cell.”

Soft laughter rang from behind her. “I wondered if I was on your radar. First you took out Owen Bell, then the Slasher, Everett Thomas. Got to say, I was fascinated by your work. Hunting predators? How devious and delightful. I would have so liked to pick your brain in a session.”

“That shit wouldn’t ever happen.”

“When I realized someone was taking out killers, I tried to be extra careful. But when you stole my Violet from me, well, I knew for certain I was being hunted.” The laughter had faded away. “I don’t like being hunted.”

Royal shrugged. He stood behind the desk, still close to the painting on the wall. “Too damn bad,” Royal told him.

“Oh, you misunderstand. Things aren’t bad for me. They’re bad for you.”

Royal wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were on him, but he stared straight at the man behind her. Her hand had slipped out of her pocket. Leo didn’t seem at all aware of her small movements.

“The cops know nothing about me,” Leo boasted. “They never will. I considered letting you live, just so you understand. If you’d killed Micah like I’d planned, then we could have both walked away. And lived to hunt another day,” he finished, voice mocking.

“You hate Micah,” Violet realized. There was something about the way he said Micah’s name.

“Of course, I do. He fucked my wife. I took that personally. I loved my wife. She. Was. Mine.”

---