Die For Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (For Me #1)(2)
Savannah Slater. The name whispered through her mind.
“Such a damn shame.” Joe shook his head.
Katherine blew on her café au lait and nodded.
A female reporter’s face—sad, tense—filled the screen. “Skywatch Five has uncovered exclusive details about Savannah Slater’s attack.” An image of a crime scene flashed on the screen. Katherine could see police officers moving quickly behind a line of yellow tape. “Savannah Slater was missing for over seventy-two hours, and it is believed that she was held and tortured during that time.”
Katherine’s stomach knotted even as her skin chilled. The world is full of sick psychos. Just another monster hunting in the dark.
Another face appeared on the screen. A man. Handsome. Pissed. He glared at the camera and said, “I have no comment at this time. The investigation is ongoing.”
The news cut back to the reporter. “While lead detective Dane Black isn’t talking, Skywatch Five sources have revealed that Ms. Slater was found bound, her wrists and ankles tied with thick rope, in a local park. Duct tape covered her mouth, and she had been stabbed directly in the heart.”
Katherine’s heartbeat seemed to stop.
The reporter continued, “A single red rose was found clutched in Ms. Slater’s right hand, and with this crime occurring so close to Valentine’s Day, police at the scene seemed especially tense.”
The coffee mug slipped from Katherine’s hand and shattered on the floor. No, please, no.
“Katherine? Katherine, you okay?” Joe frowned at her.
She stood, stumbled back, and rammed into Ben Miller, another frequent early morning patron of the café.
His hands wrapped around her shoulders to steady her. “Did you get burned?” His brown eyes were worried.
Shaking her head, she hurriedly pulled away from him. Moving away was instinctive for her.
She’d been coming to the small café since she moved to New Orleans, and she usually talked to both Ben and Joe each morning.
She didn’t want to talk then. And she didn’t want either of them touching her. Katherine’s gaze flew back to the TV.
“Viewers may remember another killer who bound his victims in a similar way, before he stabbed them in the heart,” the reporter continued, eyes piercing through the screen. The lady had done her homework. “Michael O’Rourke was suspected of torturing and murdering four women in Boston. He was dubbed the Valentine Killer because he always stabbed his female victims in the heart and left each victim holding a red rose in her palm.” A dramatic pause. “His last kill was almost three years ago, and though several manhunts have been conducted as authorities tried to track O’Rourke, he has never been captured. Several law enforcement officials with the Boston Police Department have even theorized that the infamous killer may have taken his own life in order to avoid facing a lifetime behind bars.”
“I remember that guy,” Ben murmured. “A sick sonofabitch.”
Yes, he had been.
The reporter was still talking. “With Valentine’s Day just a few days away, police would not speculate as to whether the killer was Valentine or a copycat who could be looking to emulate his crimes.”
The room went dim. A dull roar filled Katherine’s ears, and she was pretty sure she was about to faint. “I-I’m sick, Joe. Sorry…got to…go.” Then she turned and ran—or weaved—and barely heard Joe and Ben as they called out after her.
Her hands slammed into the door, and then she was outside. The warm air—it always seemed to be warm in New Orleans, even in February—hit her like a slap, but it couldn’t banish the chill from her bones.
Savannah Slater had been stabbed in the heart. Katherine knew Savannah. And with the story that Savannah had been pursuing, there was no way the manner of her death could be a coincidence.
A message, yes, but anything else?
No, no, no.
This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.
A nightmare. Maybe she was dreaming. Or maybe the bastard had hunted her down. He’d told her…I’ll never let you go.
Cars buzzed on the streets. Katherine locked her arms around her stomach and looked to the left, to the right.
So many people. Too many.
And Valentine’s Day was creeping ever closer.
Please God, no.
She didn’t want to live through this hell again. She couldn’t.
With determined steps, Katherine entered the police station. Voices shouted, phones rang, and chaos filled the air.
She held her purse close as she made her way up to the main desk. “Um, excuse me…”
The cop didn’t glance up.
Katherine cleared her throat and tried again. “Excuse me.”
Bushy brows rose as the guy focused on her. “Something I can do for you, miss?”
“I need to see Detective Black, please. Dane Black.” Thanks to the news report, his name was branded in her mind.
The cop pointed to the left. “Take the hallway, second turn on your right. His desk is number four.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re gonna have to sign in first, miss.” He pushed a clipboard toward her. “And I’ll need to see your ID.”
She scribbled her name on the page. Handed him her ID. He barely seemed to glance at it before handing the license back to her. Then Katherine straightened her shoulders and turned away from him. Her heels tapped on the tiled floor. With every step she took, her heart beat harder.