Into the Fury (BOSS, Inc. #1)(20)

“Strangulation. Her neck was also broken.”

But the bruises said her heart was still beating while her killer was asphyxiating her.

“Big,” Ethan said. “Strong enough to break her neck without much effort.”

“If he was the guy who wrote the notes, he knew what he was doing. It didn’t take him long to kill her. Personally, I’m leaning toward a burglary gone wrong. There’s been a rash of break-ins in the area. So far no one’s been home at the time.”

“Why would he think she wasn’t home?”

Hoover shrugged. “Maybe she spends her nights with a boyfriend. We’ll give that angle a look.”

“Good idea. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me in the loop on this.”

“Yeah, well, I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of police business. The only reason you’re here now is Paul Boudreau is a friend of the mayor.” Boudreau, the owner of La Belle, was extremely wealthy and a big philanthropist in Seattle. “Carlyle is Boudreau’s top man and he wants you in. Just don’t press your luck.”

Ethan bit back a smile. Grumpy as the detective was, he was good at his job. They had worked together before and respected each other. Ethan was glad Hoover was on the case.

“I’ll just take a quick look around and be out of here.”

Hoover grunted.

Figuring his time was limited and needing to get Val back to her house to shower and change, he made a quick perusal of the condo, heading for the master bedroom, noting that the bed was turned back, as if Delilah had gotten up at some sound and gone to check on it.

Nothing out of the ordinary in the big marble bathroom. Clothes—and there were plenty of them—neatly hung in the oversize closet. Some still had price tags. He read the tags, dollars in the high hundreds, even thousands, designer fashions that cost a small fortune.

He tried to imagine Val wearing the expensive garments, yesterday could have, not today.

He walked into the kitchen. Alarm was the wireless kind, probably disabled remotely. He walked into the laundry room, took a look at the back door. Frowned. Carefully opening the door, he walked out on the back deck. Guy was good with a pick, only a tiny scratch where he’d jimmied the lock and opened the door.

The entry was neat and clean; just a couple of twists and the door was open. The chain lock had been cut, probably with a pair of bolt cutters.

He walked back into the house and made his way to the living room. “What about fingerprints?” he asked Hoover.

“The place is wiped. Burglary makes the most sense. But we can’t disregard the wacko and his notes, at least not yet. Our guys are canvassing the area. Maybe we’ll get a hit.”

Ethan stripped off his plastic booties and gloves and tossed them into the trash the CSIs had set beside the front door. “Keep me posted. I’ll do the same.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Brodie.”

Under different circumstances, Ethan would have smiled.





Val looked up as Ethan approached the Jeep. Beneath his black T-shirt, heavy muscles bunched as he slid in behind the wheel.

“What did you find out?” she asked.

“Not enough.” He started the engine. “Cops think it was a break-in. Burglary gone wrong.”

“They think she walked in on someone?”

“They do.”

“But you don’t.”

He shrugged those wide shoulders. “It makes sense. The guy knew what he was doing. No prints. Easy in and out. Took jewelry and money, nothing else that we know of, at least not yet.”

“Delilah had some really expensive jewelry. She was popular with the men.”

He sliced her a look as the Jeep rolled along the road at the edge of the lake. “She have a boyfriend?”

“I’ve only heard gossip. I’d rather not repeat it.”

“A woman’s been murdered.”

She sighed, nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Rumor was she had several very wealthy men friends over the last couple of years. Delilah loved jewelry. The men . . . umm . . . earned her favors by giving her expensive gifts.”

“Did she keep the stuff in her apartment?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know the men’s names?”

She shook her head. “We weren’t close friends.”

Ethan’s phone signaled. He hit the hands-free. “Brodie.”

“Hoover.” The detective’s voice rattled over the line. “The guy hit her safe. It was hidden in the back of her closet. We missed it the first time. Killer took whatever was inside.”

“She had boyfriends who gave her jewelry,” Ethan said.

“Must have been in the safe. I’ll follow up. The thing is, Brodie, the box was empty, but the guy left a note inside. Pretty much the same as the last one. ‘Sinners, sluts, and whores. Repent or you’ll be next.’”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that pretty well sums it up.”

“How’d he crack the box?”

“Either he knew the combination or the guy was a real artist. I’m thinking he forced her to give him the numbers before he killed her.”

“How’d he know about the safe?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Maybe she offered him the jewelry as a bribe, tried to use it to get him to leave.”