Page 31 of Knife to the Heart

Cannon raised his eyebrows. “What look?”

She pushed off the security console and raised her chin. “The silent conversation you two don’t think I realize you’re having. Something’s happened. Tell me.”

Grady sighed. “The call that took me away from questioning Logan’s buddies was about a victim found in the woods not too far from here.”

Cannon stuffed his fists into his pockets. “She was dead on arrival from multiple stab wounds.”

“Stabbed?” The word burned her throat. She shoved her hands under her armpits to stop a shiver.

Grady nodded. “And raped. Her stab wounds came from a serrated blade.”

Serrated.

Every syllable felt like another knife to her back.

“Was the victim drugged?” The prick in her neck she’d felt right before the knife had slid into her flesh had been a narcotic that caused unconsciousness within seconds.

“No, nothing in her system,” Grady said. “Not even recreational.”

Rosalie swallowed bile. The blip in time from when she’d been stabbed to when she’d blacked out had felt like an eternity. She hoped the woman had at least been unconscious when the killer had cut her, but she doubted it. Psychopathic criminalsderived sick pleasure from watching their victims suffer. “Tell me more.”

Grady glanced at Cannon and took a breath. Cannon followed suit as they both eyed her from head to toe.

“What?” Sweat pooled in her cleavage. Why did the heat have to be at full blast in every room of this damn hospital?

Grady caught her gaze and held it. “We, of course, aren’t releasing any details about the victim until her family is alerted, but you should know that she matched your profile.”

The nerves in her chest contracted like thick rubber bands. “How so?”

“Vacationer in her late twenties. About your height. Athletic build. Dark hair. Amber-colored eyes.”

Rosalie touched her hair with one hand and her scar with the other. What kind of sick game was Malgor playing?

“There’s something else.”

“What?” She slid her hand to the back of her neck. Tiny hairs protruded from goose bumps like sharp flames.

“The victim had a particularly brutal stabbing on her lower back that—” Grady looked to his buddy for support.

Cannon touched her arm. “I’ve only seen your wound briefly, but I saw—and felt enough—to know that it’s almost identical to the victim’s.”

She staggered back into the console. Gripping the cool edges, she tried to catch her breath.

Cannon clasped her shoulders. “Breathe, Rosalie. It could be a coincidence.”

“It’s not,” she managed to spurt out between gulps of air. If she’d had any doubt that Malgor was behind the day’s events, she was sure now.

She snaked her hand under her suit jacket and pressed it against her back. Her scar burned, but under the disfigured skinand the traumatized nerves, cold reality surfaced and spread to her limbs. “It’s another message, like the roses.”

And a woman had died for it to be delivered.

Tears sprung to her eyes. She sniffed them back.

Cannon raised a hand to her cheek, but she shrugged it away and sat down in a chair. If she were able to break down, his arms would be a fine place. But she couldn’t. Grieving for the woman Malgor had used as a pawn in his new game and beating herself up for allowing it to happen would have to wait.

Cannon sat next to her and dipped his head to her ear. “Are you all right?”

His hot breath warmed her suddenly frigid body enough for her to lie. “Yeah. When will Logan be out of surgery?”

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