Page 12 of Fatal Attraction

Not whenever Blaire’s killer and Delilah and Amber’s rapist was still out there somewhere doing only God knows what.

I needed to know what Peter told the captain and chief, but since he was long gone—his car wasn’t in the parking lot when I’d walked out—and was so hell bent on not answering my phone calls, I sighed and saidfuck it, having no choice but to let it go. I had no idea when I’d get to see or talk to my guys again either. Perhaps later tonight, if I was lucky. They’d fill me in on what Peter had to say about Blaire. I was sure of it.

I didn’t know what to do.

My heart hurt so much it was all I could do not to fall to my knees in the middle of the parking lot and scream. I kept telling myself to just pick up the pad in my purse and keep moving forward. To keep my promise and do everything I possibly can to help clear Karl’s name.

But I couldn’t. Right now, all I wanted was to go home, crawl in bed, and cry myself to sleep.

And so, I did.

Eight

Charlotte

It was around 10pm when several hard knocks rapping against my front door jerked me awake, forcing me to jump out of bed half-asleep and search half-blind for my phone, which must have somehow gotten tangled up in the sheets. When I couldn’t find it, I cursed and made a play for my gun.

“Charlotte,” wailed Spike’s distressed voice, the pounding on my door more aggressive now.

“Hang on a minute!”

My shoulders sagged in relief as I put the gun in the drawer and closed it. Expelling an ugly yawn, I dragged ass down the stairs and disarmed the security system.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix asked when I opened the door.

“I was sleeping.” I reached up to rub the dreaded sleep crust out of my eyes. “Today was…rough.”

Spike pressed a kiss to my head as Phoenix closed the door. Phoenix scooped me up in his arms and then kissed me deeply, murmuring how sorry he was in my ear.

“How did it go?” I asked when we parted, veering back to rearm the system while Spike departed for the kitchen and Phoenix found salvation on the couch.

“Dr. Rayford completed Blaire’s autopsy,”said Phoenix.

“And?”

He shook his head, his focus locked on his fidgeting hands in his lap. “It’s not good, Charlotte. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Yes,” I told him, scoffing as I rounded the furniture and plopped down beside him, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at me. “Tell me.”

“She was pregnant, Charlotte.”

My face fell, and my mouth dropped. “Blaire waswhat?”

“Pregnant,” Spike repeated from the kitchen, as he helped himself to the booze stashed away in one of my cabinets, drinking it straight from the bottles’ mouth. He let out a troublesome sigh before he turned, his green eyes sweeping over me. “10 weeks to be exact.”

“But-but that’s not possible,” I stammered, my breath hitching. “Blaire wouldnever—”

“Well, she did,” Phoenix hoarsely cut in. “Which is a problem because now Harley, Chief, and Captain Burgess are under the impression Blaire’s murder isn’t linked to our other cases.”

“It’s bullshit.” Spike made his way over to us, bottle in hand, and sank down in the open seat next to me. “But we’ll discuss that more in a minute.”

He handed the booze off to Phoenix who tipped the bottle back to his lips with zero reluctance. Spike slightly lifted up to fumble inside his back pocket. He pulled out a pad and then handed it over to me.

“This is all the information Dr. Rayford gave us about Blaire.”

Dread ran over me as my grip tightened around the pad. And when I opened it, reading over the first few lines, it was hard not to burst into tears all over again. As speculated, Blaire was brutally raped and beaten, and there were bruises and ligature marks wrapped along her wrists and ankles, with a little note in parenthesis stating Blaire had been physically restrained, unable to properly defend herself against the assailant. The COD was determined as severe blunt force trauma to multiple areas of her head, and my hand shot to my mouth when I read that the left side of Blaire’s skull had been crushed. I couldn’t stomach reading the rest aboutthe pregnancy, or all the areas of Blaire’s body that had been eaten away thanks to the bugs.

“Please tell me there’s DNA,” I rasped, looking up and gaping hopefully between them, failing to stop my jaw from trembling.

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