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I opened my mouth to argue, but Jameson spoke up first.

“He’s right.” He shot me a sympathetic look and shrugged. “All kidding aside, Mott is our best option. We have no idea what’s going on in there. If Savage is spiraling like we believe based on the last crime scene, seeing her old partner, someone she trusts and considers on her side, could help pull her back from the edge.”

Jameson turned to Mott. “I can tell you’re used to going into hostile situations, but this is different. If you do exactly as I tell you, we can get both of them out of this unharmed. But if you go off the script—”

“I won’t. Tell me.”

“You need to remind her of who she was when you two worked together, of who she is without the trauma twisting her up inside. Bring up happy memories, anything that will remind her she’s not this person. Assess the situation as best you can and play to win. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah.” He turned to look at the house over his shoulder. “But know if it comes down to it, I’ll take the shot. If she’s intent to hurt anyone else, I’ll do it.”

Some of my anger faded at the desolation in his tone. This was fucking hard for him, knowing he might have to take down someone he’d counted on to cover his back for years. I couldn’t imagine.

“If you do this right, you won’t have to.”

He shot Jameson an annoyed look that made me smirk. “No fucking pressure, right? Get this right or my old partner dies.” Jameson cringed. “It’s fine. Fuck. Okay, comms on?”

“Check” from Jameson.

“Check.” Me that time.

“And check,” Mott muttered. “Backup in route?”

“Five minutes out,” I responded.

“But we won’t send them in unless you give us the signal that they—we—are needed. What’s the word you want to use for ‘all hell has broken loose’?” Jameson asked.

His lips quirked. “What’s y’all’s safe word? I feel like that might be best with us three.”

Despite all the odds, I barked a laugh. “It’s not like that, fucker.”

“Whatever, I’m cool either way. You do you, buddy. Fine, my go word for ‘get your fucking asses in here because shit just hit the fan’ will bepineapple.” With that, he started down the sidewalk, jogging at first before outright sprinting toward the unknown danger waiting for him in that house.

Huh. With Mott in the mix, maybe this whole situation wasn’t fucked after all.

Now all Jameson and I could do was listen and wait. Checking my clip, I slammed it into place and leaned my ass against my car.

Waiting to see if my entire world was about to crumble around me.

36

RAIN

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked like a dumbass. “Please, Beth. This isn’t you.” I gestured to the woman in her arms.

As I said the words, a strong waft of copper—a very familiar smell considering my line of work—came from somewhere in the house.

“Oh no.” Beth wouldn’t look me in the eye when my gaze followed my nose down a hall that led to the bedrooms. “Beth, what did you do?”

Without thinking of the consequences, only my training, I started down the hall, following the overwhelming smell of blood. At the end, the door was open to the main bedroom, where my fears were confirmed. Splayed out on the bed was a mess of what used to be a young man. The overkill with this one went above and beyond any of the others.

And there was something else different.

Steps hesitant, I inched closer to get a better view of the word written on his stomach in blood.

No, not written.

Carved.

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