Her hand lingered on Joel’s throat. She’d risen onto her tip toes behind him, but he was still so big that she had trouble reaching—
“Did you just kill me?” Joel asked softly.
She stiffened. Pulled back her hands. She hurried back to his side. “We’re searching for a male assailant. Someone who plays a major role in Lucia’s life. I’d look at the dance studio. See if a male instructor had a lot of contact with Lucia. Ask her friends to learn about her romantic involvements.” This was all stuff that Cedric would know. “You truly don’t need me. You have this.” She turned away. Oddly eager, once more, to leave the scene—
“So you don’t think we’re looking at a serial?” Cedric’s voice stopped her.
Her heart thudded into her chest. “A serial killer, by definition, has to kill more than one person. The FBI, in particular, likes to say that you must have three victims before you can start talking about a serial murderer.” She looked over her shoulder. “Is there another body that I didn’t see?”
“Not that I’ve found.”
“Then you ask because…?” She knew he’d have a reason.
“The shoes were gone. Seems odd, right? And serials like to take trophies. You’re the one who told me that. If you’re going to kill a ballerina and you want something to remember her by, seems like the shoes are the thing you’d take.”
She stared at him.
His brows pulled together. “What?”
“Maybe there was something about the shoes that could tie him to her. Perhaps they were a gift that he gave to her.”
Cedric nodded and seemed relieved. “So it wasn’t a trophy…”
“No, it very well could have been.” She exhaled a low breath. “I just didn’t want to say that because if this perp is a serial…” Her words trailed away.
Come dance with me, Chloe.
“Chloe?” Joel prompted.
She shook her head and focused on Cedric once more. “I was requested for this case.”
He nodded. Kind of side-eyed her. “Uh, yeah. I mentioned that to you before. Chloe, are you feeling okay?”
She was perfectly fit physically. “I want to know who told the stepfather to contact me.”
“Your name was in the paper. I’m sure that’s—”
Chloe came to a decision. “I’m going to talk to the stepfather. Now.”
Alarm flashed on Cedric’s face. “The man is probably grieving! We both know you do not handle grieving family members well. You don’t want to rush over there now. Work the case. There’s a bonus in it for you if we close before—”
“I’m going to talk to the stepfather. Call me if you need me for anything else.” Urgency rode her. Chloe didn’t like it when puzzle pieces didn’t slide into place.
The pieces weren’t sliding into place for her.
She hurried back to the SUV, but Joel beat her to the door. When she reached for the door handle, his fingers closed around hers. “Stop.” He was behind her. Seemed to surround her.
Chloe whirled to face him. He was so close that he seemed to cage her. Dammit, he was caging her.
“Explain,” Joel ordered. “Just take a breath and bring me up to speed.”
“I want to interview the stepfather. I thought I had explained that.”
His lips quirked as Joel slowly shook his head. “More is at play. With you, there always is. Tell me what I’m missing.”
That was the thing. Chloe felt as if she was missing something, too. So how could she tell him what she didn’t know? “It feels personal.”
“Murder usually is personal. Especially if you’re right and the perp was the vic’s lover.”
“No.” She lifted her chin. “This feels personal…to me.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “I don’t get it. You’ve literally had sick fucks sending you notes asking you to ‘Come and get me’ and that didn’t seem too personal for you.”
That had felt like a challenge. This was different. This was her past. Rising up to try and bite her in the ass. Or…
Slice her throat. From ear to ear.
“Take two minutes and explain to me,” he urged, “just how the hell this is different.”
They were on the edge of the street in the French Quarter. It was early evening, and a few cars ambled down the road. People were strolling along the sidewalk. The road glistened slickly from the afternoon rain that had rolled through the city.
“I’m not psychic,” Joel rumbled. “Despite my best efforts, I can still not manage to read that mind of yours.”
She didn’t want him to read her mind. “It was staged.”
“The scene? You didn’t tell that to Cedric.”
No, she hadn’t. “The blood on the mirror…when I looked straight into the mirror, it was like I had blood on me.” Blood is on your hands. That had been the message she received from her reflection.
“Chloe, that was a blood spatter pattern. You know that. You—”
“The building wasn’t always a dance studio. At one point, a long time ago, it was a dress shop.” She didn’t look away from him. “Your mother used to work in that shop.”
His broad shoulders stiffened. “Do I even want to know how you learned that?”
“When I was doing my research on you, I came across this place,” Chloe whispered. Joel had lived in New Orleans a lifetime ago. His return to the Big Easy had been a fairly recent occurrence, as in…he’d come back when his world in Dallas had turned to ashes around him. He’d come back to New Orleans for a shot at a different life. “I remembered the address. I don’t…it could be a coincidence.”
“Fuck that.” He reached around her and yanked open the SUV’s door. “You said it was staged. Staged at a place that has a link to me. Staged and you were specifically called to the scene?”
Yes, all of those things were setting off red flags in her mind. She was glad that he could appreciate her unease.
“Hell, yeah.” Joel gently pushed her into the passenger seat. “We’re going to talk to the stepfather.”
Hmm. Interesting. She hadn’t even needed the full two minutes in order to convince him.
***
The stepfather didn’t live far away. Chloe got his address from—well, hell Joel didn’t honestly know how she’d gotten it. While he’d started the vehicle, she’d fired off a quick text to someone, and then started giving him driving directions. Her voice was calm and cool—quintessential Chloe with just the faintest hint of her British accent sliding beneath the words—but something was off with her. He should know. He was her lover. He knew her, inside and out, and when something rattled her, he was one of the few people who could see her small shakes.
But she wasn’t telling him enough about what was happening and that fact pissed him off. He didn’t want Chloe keeping secrets from him. He wanted to be all-fucking-in with her.
He braked in front of the stepfather’s sprawling house. Also in the Quarter, it reeked of old money. For a moment, Joel considered the location, and his stomach twisted. Hell… “This isn’t too far from your place.”