Page 83 of Lovely Violent Things

Kallum threatened to carve his initials in Alister’s bones if he ever touched me again.

And he made good on his vow.

Despite the scene being deliberately devised to imitate a serial killer, the philosopher’s stone might as well be Kallum’s fucking initials.

“He’s insane,” I whisper to myself. “He’s really, actually certifiablyinsane.”

A shock of awareness hits hard, my head sways with the effect. I brace my palm on the tree, and Hernandez helps guide me aside when Agent Rana orders him to remove me from the scene.

“Come on,” Hernandez says, urging me farther away. “I’ll take you to the hotel.”

“I’m fine,” I say, steeling my tone with conviction as I steady myself. I hold up a hand, then glance at the bridge. “Has the medical examiner identified the time of death?”

“Halen, we can look into that information later.”

“I need thisnow,” I tell him, desperation leaking into my resolve.

Hernandez huffs an impatient breath. “No definitive TOD yet, no,” he confirms. “Here’s all we know. Surveillance at the police station was wiped. Assumption is that Childs, or an accomplice like another Landry, did so to cover their tracks after taking the incriminating evidence. The knife in the lab was taken. Possibly right before you were abducted by Childs.”

Me. I’m the accomplice.

“Theory is right now that Alister got in the way. He was the only one at the department…while all units were out…”

“Looking for me,” I say, filling in the pause.

“And Childs,” he says. “This is the job, Halen. We all know the risk. But working theory is that the Harbinger and Childs are in on this together, that either of them could’ve done this.” He nods toward the body, disgust evident in his hard features.

“That’s absurd,” I hear myself say.

He releases a sardonic laugh. “Absurd fits this town well. There’s no footage of Alister leaving the department,” Hernandez says, and a micro-flash of uncertainty registers on his face before he conceals his expression. “Right now, all the footage around town is being pulled to comb through, to look for this fucking Harbinger psycho.”

A cold sweat blankets my skin, and suddenly the sweatshirt is too thick. The neckband too constricting along my throat. My forearm flares with a prickling sensation, as if my nerve endings have come alive. I rub at the sleeve with the destructive urge to tear the stitches out and remove his brand from my flesh.

Kallum destroyed the evidence at the mansion when he burned it all. The only article of clothing he wore, his jeans, he made sure were rinsed clean to corrupt the DNA…blood that washed between our bodies as I touched him, kissed him.

Made love to him.

I’m sleeping with a deranged killer.

And ultimately, this is my punishment.

This is what I deserve.Heis what I deserve. I had a beautiful life, with a wonderful man and a decorated nursery, before it was torn away in one vicious mugging. Life, the cruel thief.

Now I’m a killer’s plaything. I am his obsession.

I turn and start toward the bridge. Agent Hernandez tries to halt me, and I say, “I just…need a minute.”

When I reach the bank of the stream, I sink to my knees and whip the gloves off my hands. The air has no temperature, my lungs numb as I drag in breaths to calm my rampaging heart, my blood rushing too fast through my arteries.

I submerge my hands in the stream, seeking the cool water to further calm the fire flashing my skin. As I bring my palms up to splash my face, I stop, my breath hung on an exhale that will never come.

The morning sun glints off of a tiny golden object nestled in the stream bank. I shake off my wet hands and wipe a palm down my pants, then grab a discarded glove before I scoop the object out of the silt, turning it over to inspect.

Pinched between the latex and my fingers is a gold cufflink.

The drumbeat strikes with a thunderous boom, crashing through me with violent force. A blaze engulfs my chest, the fire searing around the edges of my darkening vision. I tunnel through a wormhole in time, all gravity lost.

I grip the object in my fist and seal my eyes closed against the imagery invading my mind, trying to close off the link—but it rushes like a tidal wave.

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