Page 18 of Lovely Violent Things

He looked me in the eyes and vowed he could find the victims.

He said I needed him in order to save them.

Then I told him I’d never need him for anything ever again.

Demonstrating his claim in the most violent and gruesome manner wasn’t only a punishment, it was his proof.

The sky has lightened to a dull, overcast gray with the morning break. I glance down at the sun-bleached boards before I return my gaze to Alister. “I don’t know why the killer is here,” I say. “But it’s clear his delusion has devolved, and that’s what I’m going to focus on.”

Alister studies me intently, adjusts his shoulder harness. “You’re a hundred percent sure this is the same guy.”

I wish I wasn’t. “Chalk was used to portray the victim’s face in the likeness of the death’s-head hawkmoth,” I say, pushing my bangs from my eyes. “It needs to be confirmed by lab testing and compared to the other scenes, but I can say with a degree of certainty that it’s the same technique.”

A detail that very few people would be privy to. If you only have news stations and media outlets to view the Harbinger crime scenes, it’s easy to mistake the depicted skull on the victims’ faces to be paint.

For a brief second, I meet Kallum’s eyes, and I see the mischievous gleam.

Professor Percy Wellington was the fourth victim of the Harbinger that proved to be a crime of passion dressed up like a copycat murder. The very murder Kallum is now being remanded to a mental hospital for committing shared this commonality of the crime.

A drumbeat sounds in my head, a flash of a vision follows, and I see the lug wrench tipped in blood held in my hand…

I blink back the encroaching memory.

Kallum cocks his head. “That’s a very specific detail,” he says, an echo of what I once said to him at the Cambridge crime scene. “A detail like that would only be known to the officials who worked closely on the cases.”

“And the killer,” I fire back.

His smile is arrogant. “Right. The killer would know all the details.”

A mirrored smile spreads across my face, and it’s completely inappropriate for the moment, and I’m sure makes me look deranged.

Agent Alister regards me with a measure of hesitancy. “All right. Good,” he says. “I’ll trust your assessment on this. He’s our guy. That’s where we’re focused. Which makes my next request not so much a request.” He brings out a folded slip of paper from the inseam of his suit blazer. “We have a lot of fast-moving parts, and since there was a, uh, situation with Dr. Torres, he wasn’t able to refer a psychiatrist to Professor Locke—”

“I’ll do it.”

My abrupt offer to take Kallum back on as his field psychiatrist jars not only Alister, but also Kallum. Both men look uncertain, but it’s the twist of Kallum’s full lips that digs beneath my resolve to make me question if I really have this under control, or if I just handed him exactly what he wants.

“Halen,” Alister says, and I see Kallum bristle at the agent’s familiar use of my name. “I was going to suggest for you to refer another doctor.”

“That would take time.” Impatience bleeds through my clipped tone of voice. “Which is limited, and you’ve stressed we need to utilize our resources. Is there a conflict with me overseeing Professor Locke in the field?” I take the form and hold out my hand for a pen.

Alister hesitates a moment before he concedes. He’s a man who likes to be in control, and this situation is getting dangerously close to the opposite. Though he has little choice if he wants his task force to find the suspects and the victims.

“Since you understand our strained resources, then you can appreciate I’m only able to put Special Agent Hernandez on detail with Locke.”

I glance at the agent in a black suit and earpiece hanging back on the boardwalk. It’s not as if two agents were able to leash Kallum the first time. I sign my name on the form, placing myself in charge of Kallum’s mental health. The irony is grim.

“Done.” I hand the form and pen back to Alister.

As I step aside to head back down to the crime scene, Alister eases in front of me and takes my chin between his grip, tilting my face up to him.

I reflexively pull back, but his hold is firm. “You’ve been working the scene since I last saw you here, haven’t you?” It’s not a question as he assess what I’m sure are bloodshot eyes and dark bags. His gaze searches my face before he drops his hand. “You’re leaving. Don’t come back until you’ve had sleep.”

I trap a retort on my tongue. Alister’s action was far too inappropriate…and intimate.

Like a pop of kindling snapping the air, Kallum’s dark energy presses against me. I can sense his fury crackling the charged atmosphere stronger than the gathering storm.

I take a step away from Alister as a flash of lightning flickers across the dense cloud cover over the sky. A low rumble of thunder follows in warning.

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