Page 12 of Shiver

“No.”

“Oh.” She paused, swallowing. “Was she the one who had my locket?”

“In a matter of speaking.”

“The woman who was killed?” Nightmarish images flashed behind her eyes—bright beads twisting, pulling taut against white skin, blue eyes bulging with fear. He was getting more and more suspicious by the moment. She could see it in his face, could read it in his eyes. But she didn’t know what she could do about it.

Something twitched in his jaw. “Yes, she was.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to meet his gaze.

“So am I.”

“Well,” she stammered. “Are you almost done?”

“Almost.”

Devra turned back to the picture, unable to face the hardness in his expression, and noticed the strong resemblance between him and the other man in the picture. “Brother?”

“Yeah. Okay, done.” He grabbed the paper out of the printer and thrust it at her.

She scanned it, then signed her name on the bottom.

“Riley, what are you doing?” A man boomed as he walked through the door.

“Just getting a statement, Captain.” The detective stood then gestured toward her. “Captain Lewis, this is Devra Morgan. It was her locket we found on Michelle.”

Devra stood uncertainly, trying to hide her nervousness.

The captain took only a second to size her up, then turned back to the detective. “Have Pat finish up her statement. You need some time off. Go home and be with your family.”

Devra sat back down and pretended to be reading her statement. He was being taken off the case. She smothered a smile.

“Captain—”

“I don’t want any arguments about it,” his captain continued. “You’re too close to this case to be objective. You could do more harm than good.”

“I’ve been living the night stalker case for eighteen months. I know it inside and out,” he insisted.

“At this point, it doesn’t matter. This wasn’t the night stalker.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This one is different, hair and fibers don’t match up.”

“That’s why Michelle was out there. She was trying to flush this guy out. Are you telling me someone else got to her?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Michelle was a good cop. Her death is a terrible loss for all of us. Do yourself a favor, Riley, go home and take care of your family. Take care of yourself.”

“There’s no way I’m dumping this case,” he said softly.

Captain Lewis gestured with the manila file folder clutched in his hand. “You don’t have a choice. The FBI is taking over.”

“Why?”

The captain glanced at Devra, took the detective by the arm, and led him a few feet away. “The computer matched forensics with three other murders—one each in Portland, San Francisco, and Miami. What we have is a killer who goes after blondes—blondes that look a lot like Michelle.”

Even though his tone was muted, Devra couldn’t help but hear him. Her eyes widened as he listed the cities. Cities she’d lived in. They’ve found out about the others. It would only be a matter of time before they discovered her connection with those cases too. But what had he said about forensics?

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