Blurb
Detective Kate Rosetti is not a big fan of February 14th. Even worse than gigantic bouquets of roses and buckets of chocolate, however, are the love notes she’s been receiving from the murderer who very nearly stole her life.
Unfortunately, a peaceful Valentine’s Day isn’t in the cards for Kate Rosetti. When she gets the news that the infamous serial killer Ramone Wilkes has escaped from prison, she knows the chances are good that he’s making his way north to the streets of St. Paul to finish the job he started two years ago.
Capturing Ramone “The Dentist” Wilkes during his first killing spree was no breeze, and this time, luck might not be on Kate’s side...
Chapter 1
The week before Valentine’s Day brought a familiar gray slush across the Twin Cities that had locals feeling crankier than usual. Minnesota had reached the point of winter where snowfall was no longer charming. Cute and beautiful and quaint had gone out the window with the Christmas holidays. Now, the weather was dirty and annoying and cold. The wind whipped across the plains, wrapping around every exposed piece of skin, and the drudgery of early evenings had residents going stir-crazy.
I shuffled toward my mother’s café and pulled the door open, stamping my wet boots on a welcome mat already soaked through from others doing the exact same thing. A soft squelch sounded beneath my feet as I tugged my scarf off and moved to the counter.
“It’s supposed to warm up next week,” my mother said. “Enjoy this chill while it lasts!”
“Why would I enjoy that?” I thumbed outside. “It’s miserable.”
“Exactly. Who wants to commit a crime in weather like this?”
My phone beeped with a text message. I glanced down, saw my partner’s name on the screen. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“You caught a case?” My mother frowned. “In weather like this?”
My mother cutely believed that criminals cared about the weather. Unfortunately, as the Twin Cities Task Force’s youngest female detective, I knew better. A lot better.
Tapping the screen on my phone, I found the message from Jimmy. I exhaled. “Not yet. Jimmy just wants to know if I can pick him up a soy latte. Half-caff, doctor’s orders.”
“He didn’t say that.” My mother leaned over and peeked at my phone to see what Jimmy had actually written. “It says right there that Detective Jones wants a whole milk latte with four pumps of vanilla and three shots of espresso.”
“By doctor’s orders, I mean my orders,” I said. “He’s going to kill himself if he keeps going with his usual. I know he’s retiring in a year, but I’d like to hold onto him until then.”
“You should talk.” My mother slid a s’mores latte across the bar to me. “Maybe if you’re not busy today, you could help out around here for a bit. Your sister—”
“Look at that,” I said, glancing down at my phone and feigning an imaginary beep. “I’m probably going to catch a case soon. I can feel it. I should get back to the station. Those cold cases are getting colder by the day.”
Still, it seemed my mother was correct on one front. Ever since we’d wrapped a big case just before Christmas, murderers around town had taken a hiatus from gruesome crime.
Aside from a couple of suicides and an open and closed domestic violence case, we’d had a slow few weeks. It wasn’t that I was hoping for the murderers to come back out in droves, but I was getting sick of paperwork. I was about ready to start scratching out parking tickets just to get out of the office.
“Good morning, detective.” A voice startled me from behind. “Good morning, Ms. Rosetti.”
I spun around and came nose to nose with a boyishly charming smile, curly dark hair that flopped over a handsome face, and a set of gleaming eyes that could only belong to one Alastair Gem. His British accent had the effect of drawing the eyes of several women sitting around the coffee shop as they studied him indiscreetly through their lashes.
“Gem,” I said. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“You,” he said simply. “You haven’t been particularly responsive to my messages or my invitations to escape to the Bahamas for some sunshine and fresh air. I can have the plane gassed up in an hour.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Oh?” Gem didn’t look convinced by my lies.
“And I’m not interested in your plane.”
“Is that right?”
“I really am busy. Actually, my mother was just saying she needed some help around here, so I should probably let you go—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” My mother leaned over the counter and gave me a nudge toward Gem. “I’ve got it under control here. Go on, sit down. Have a chat. I’ll bring over some pastries. Mr. Gem, what do you like for coffee?”
“Anything is fine,” he said with a smile. “Do you have a minute, detective?”
“Okay.” I shifted uncomfortably and agreed mostly to get out from under the stares of curious looky-loos watching our exchange. “Over in the corner. I don’t have long. I have to get to the station.”
“Ah.” Gem guided me through the crowded coffee shop. “Paperwork calling your name?”
I eased into the seat and found the menu for the Seventh Street Café, my mother’s pride and joy. She focused on coffees with a side of pastries and had started this place out of desperation and a pinch of hope after she and my father had divorced when I was five. The fact that it was a block away from the building where I worked was nothing but sheer, unfortunate coincidence.
“I’m sorry to be tracking you down like this,” Gem said, “but you’ve proven hard to get ahold of.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said, thinking of several unreturned calls and messages Gem had left on my phone. “Like I said, I’ve been busy.”
“With Russo?”
I blinked, surprised he remembered the name of the FBI agent who’d partnered with me on my last big case. “Russo?”
Gem smiled at my stalling tactic. “I assumed he was the one who picked you up the night you left my party early. My driver mentioned you had someone waiting outside for you.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh?”
“I mean, it was like that—sort of,” I said. “Russo picked me up, but we were just friends. We still are. He’s out in DC, I’m here in the Twin Cities.”
Gem studied me carefully, and I got the impression he wanted to ask more questions on the subject. The look in his eye told me he didn’t want to know the answers, so instead, he kept silent.
“I really haven’t been ignoring you,” I said. “I texted you a few times—”
“I recall.”
“But I’ve been busy,” I repeated lamely.
“I’m here on business, lucky for you.”
“You are?” My mouth parted in shock as a furious heat crept up the back of my neck. “Oh, well, in that case...”
“Don’t worry, I forgive you for assuming otherwise.” Gem gave a playful wink. “But despite my tenacity, I can understand a rejection when I see one. It’s clear you are intent to ignore my invitations to the Bahamas, so I will lay off.”