Page 85 of Brutal Ice

“Whatever gets you going.”

Curran’s eyes narrowed. “A surveillance camera was found at the winery. The winery where the perp took Violet. It was your camera.”

“Why would you think that?” He let his own eyes widen. “Were there prints on it that led you to me?”

“You know there were no prints recovered on it.”

Because he wouldn’t make such an amateur mistake. “Then did you somehow trace the camera’s purchase to me? I’m just—sorry, I’m not following along. The map needs to be more detailed.”

“Bullshit. You follow everything. You and that crazy tech mind of yours. Look, we both know it was your camera.”

“A statement, not a question.” The camera could not be traced back to him. “I think you’re supposed to ask questions. Not that I want to tell you how to do your job.”

Curran’s lips twisted. “You’re damn good when it comes to tech.”

“Thanks for noticing. I try.”

“But we’ve got someone better.”

He didn’t change expression. “Do tell.”

“A lady from Quantico. She came to town with the Feds. See, you aren’t the only one who thought a serial killer was hunting here. The Feds had been watching and evaluating. She got the camera from the winery. She did some tech mojo, and she was able to trace the signal back to you and your phone.”

He didn’t buy that for even a second. No one can trace jack back to me. “Why are you lying to me? I’m not going to make some grand confession.” He laughed. “I’m not the serial killer the Feds are after.”

Curran stared stonily back at him.

Let’s see what all the cops know. Royal shifted a bit in his uncomfortable chair. “The killer that the Feds want to catch? He has claimed four victims so far. Four women who all look the same.” An exhale. “Marcella?—”

“Marcella White. Bailey Brown. Fiona Law.” A pause from Curran. “And Violet Murphy. Only Violet wasn’t murdered like the others. You saved her.”

So the cops were tying all the pieces together. Finally. “I didn’t kill those women.”

“I never thought you did. Feds might have suspected you. But…you’re not into hurting women. You don’t go after the vulnerable.”

“Tell me more about what I do—or what you think I do.” Tell me everything.

“I think you’re the man who has been hunting the killer.”

Ah, well, on that, Curran would be right. Good for him. And if the Feds had put those puzzle pieces together, too? Bravo.

“And you were hunting him the night Violet was taken. Only instead of finding the killer, you found her.” Curran leaned forward. “What I don’t get is why you didn’t just leave her in the trunk and finish him off then and there.”

He held the detective’s stare.

“Simone Wilmont is dead.” Curran slumped back in his seat. “Hell, we both knew she was dead even when they loaded her into the ambulance.”

Beneath the table, Royal’s hands clenched into fists. Where is Violet? How is she? Her friend’s death would hit her hard. Violet had tried so desperately to help Simone.

I need to get to Violet. Enough of this bullshit with him cooperating. He had places to be. And a Violet to hold.

“I want to know how you and Violet wound up at the crime scene. How did you get to that old service station?”

He could share this part and get things rolling. Besides, he was sure the cops had already asked Violet plenty of the same questions. Violet—being Violet—she’d tell the truth. So he’d stick to the truth as much as possible, too. “Simone called Violet. She was scared. Desperate. She asked Violet to come and get her.” A pause. “She said Micah had left her in the middle of nowhere.”

Curran’s jaw hardened. “Micah says he got a call from Simone, too. That her car had broken down. That she needed him. She asked him to come and find her. Only when he got there, he said some guy ran at him in the dark, stabbed him, and then the next thing he knew, you had a gun in his face.”

“Some people are good at lying.”

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