She shut her eyes, inhaling slow breaths through her nose. Easy does it. There’s nothing scary here. So what if Kendra mentioned a dating app? There are about a billion these days, and only one of them was ever connected to Kingsley.

  Ellie’s nails bit into her palms, and she used the sting to ground herself.

  Kingsley was dead. This case had nothing to do with him.

  The vise grip on her chest began to ease just as Stoddard started speaking. “Do you know if Mr. Metcalf had made any other matches with the app? I don’t mean to sound callous, but recently?”

  As Ellie accepted the phone Stoddard passed to her, she was relieved to note that her hands weren’t shaking. On the screen was Kendra’s Soul Mates profile. Bubbly photos, sexy photos, cat photos…the usual profile sugarcoating.

  When she was finished, Ellie handed the device back to Kendra. The dark circles under the other woman’s eyes deepened as she glared at Detective Stoddard. “No. Not since we met.”

  Ellie raised an eyebrow. On second thought, maybe Charleston’s new lead detective could use some help with her interview tactics after all.

  Stoddard scribbled in her notebook, either unaware of or ignoring the animosity radiating from Kendra. “Had Mr. Metcalf mentioned any recent concerns? People following him, strange incidents, anything out of the ordinary?”

  Kendra’s face softened, and her shoulders slumped. “No. He hated having to fly all around the country all the time, so he was eager to get started in his new job. He and Phil got along great, so there wasn’t a push for him to find a place right away, which in this market was a godsend. Things were working out for him, finally. Until they weren’t, I guess.”

  After another ten minutes of questioning, it became clear that they weren’t going to get the information they wanted from Kendra. It was time to wrap things up.

  “Thank you for your time, Ms. DeVry. I am truly sorry for your loss.” Stoddard handed Kendra a business card. “Please call if you think of anything that might be useful, no matter how small. I promise you, we want the person who killed Pete brought to justice too.”

  Once outside, Ellie inhaled, trying to calm the anxiety building in her chest. Soul Mates. Her stomach twisted again. “What did you think about the dating app?”

  Stoddard turned slightly to speak but didn’t bother to slow her pace. “What about it?”

  “Shouldn’t we look into it?”

  “Possibly, but I think we need to do a little more legwork first before we can narrow down where our major focus should be. Unless we find something more concrete, it’s much too soon to put all of our eggs in that basket.”

  Logically, that made sense. The lingering knots in Ellie’s stomach made her continue to walk through the potential Soul Mates connection out loud. “If the killer’s targeting people using a dating app, it could be like online shopping for him. Place an order, pick it up. If that’s true, this guy’s more dangerous and has way more reach than we thought.”

  Stoddard shook her head, slowing as they reached the car. “And if that’s the case, we’ll find more evidence to back the idea up soon enough. We know to keep an eye out for any Soul Mates connection, but we aren’t devoting resources to chasing it down right now.”

  Ellie nodded, even though the tension refused to go away. There was no great mystery as to why. Ever since Kingsley had used a dating app to lure and kidnap Valerie Price so he could add her to his human trafficking ring, dating apps had given her the willies.

  Wait…had Kingsley used Soul Mates as the bait?

  Ice shivered down Ellie’s spine. She bit her cheek and gave an angry shake of her head. This was stupid. The name Soul Mates didn’t sound familiar, so she doubted there was any Kingsley connection.

  That reasoning didn’t stop a horrible thought from sucking the oxygen from her lungs.

  What if Kingsley wasn’t dead? What if he was still alive and just biding his time until he struck again? The sadistic criminal had been a master at manipulation, even paying a plastic surgeon to alter his face so he could continue his evil deeds. Who was to say he couldn’t have faked his own death?

  The icy sensation drilled deep into Ellie’s core. Her breathing grew shallow. Was Kingsley still alive, or had he possibly set this all up to antagonize her from beyond the grave? Would she ever be truly free of his presence, real or imagined?

  Stop it!

  This was crazy thinking, she knew. Ellie had killed the bastard herself. Watched him die. She’d even read the autopsy report.

  Still…logic tended to fly out the window whenever Lawrence Kingsley was concerned.

  “I mean, full disclosure. I’ve poked around Soul Mates a couple of times.” Detective Stoddard buckled her seat belt and turned the key in the ignition.

  “What?” With effort, Ellie drifted back to the conversation with her boss. “You’ve used Soul Mates?” She blinked as she took in her surroundings. Wait, when had she climbed into the passenger’s seat? The last she remembered, they were walking and talking outside.

  She really needed to pull her shit together.

  “I said I’ve poked around. I’m a forty-something single lady who, on a whim, left everything and everyone I knew in Baltimore. How else could I possibly meet people? I haven’t had time to really dig in and make good use of it, though.” She picked up her travel mug from the center console and took a sip. “Anyway, the Cupid Killer’s Valentine’s Day date, Cheyenne Valdez, was engaged. She went to Grind to meet friends. No app. No date.”

  “The Grind.” The correction flew from Ellie’s mouth on autopilot.

  Stoddard stopped mid-sip and frowned. “What?”

  “It’s not Grind. It’s The Grind.”

  Stoddard opened her mouth and focused her eyes upward, no doubt rewinding their previous conversation in her head. “The other day in the car, you said the place was called Grind.”

  Ellie bit back a smile. “No, we were at Bump. There’s no ‘the’ for the club Bump. Cheyenne was killed outside of The Grind.”

  Her boss’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Does it matter, Detective Kline?”

  After a slight hesitation, Ellie shrugged. “I guess not. Just trying to help you learn the local info. Saying them wrong is proof that you aren’t from around here.”

  Stoddard changed the subject. “Another thing. These apps are a dime a dozen. Folks today hook up with each other using them all the time. We don’t have the time or resources to devote to subpoenaing every dating app to find out if our victims were users. We’d be looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  Reluctantly, Ellie agreed. Most likely, Soul Mates creeped her out because of the subconscious association with Kingsley, a fact that couldn’t help but worry her. She’d hoped that his death would bring her relief, but the asshole was still there, floating around in her head and ready to strike when her guard was down. If he were still capable of thinking, he’d be positively giddy over the knowledge of the power he wielded over her, even in death. This would be his perfect revenge.

  Ellie shivered away the bad juju. No. He would not win. She’d free herself of his clutches, body and mind. For good.

  She only hoped she could make her wish happen before living like this sent her into an early grave as well.

  15

  Ellie spread the case files and evidence photos of the Cupid Killer’s victims around the metal conference room table in the cold case room. She forced her shoulders to relax and enjoyed the moment of silence. She was alone. Finally.

  She still couldn’t figure out why this case bothered her more than any other. She’d witnessed plenty of bad things in her life, worse than the Cupid Killer. Why Kingsley had—

  Nope. No. Let that go.

  Ellie took a deep breath and released the air slowly, refocusing on catching the Cupid Killer. What was the link between the victims? She read over the names listed in her case notebook.

  Fifteen in all.

  For the past twelve years, their perp killed one victim on Valentine’s Day, with only one exception to that rule. Eight years ago, the maniac slaughtered three victims—Lucy Valliera, Timothy Zuckman, and Natalie Tate.

  There’d been no explanation for why he took the extra two bodies that night. The reports indicated the initial victim might have been Natalie, and Lucy and Timothy happened to be in the wrong spot at the wrong time. No concrete evidence supported the theory, and conjecture remained the foundation of the case.

  Pete Metcalf’s unexplained, off-schedule murder bumped the list to fifteen. One hypothesis came to mind when Ellie considered Pete—the Cupid Killer had gotten hungrier for hearts. If that was true, she feared the number would soon climb higher.

  If she removed all the unanswered questions, what exactly did the information left tell her about this person? Someone smart. He killed his victims in one place and dumped them in another, leaving as little evidence as possible to implicate himself. She added meticulous to her list. No fingerprints anywhere, so he almost certainly wore gloves. No stray hairs left behind. Nothing but bodies with big holes carved into their chests.

  Why the heart? Was it a symbol or a token? The initials showed he was proud of his kills. He wanted his handiwork to be acknowledged.

  Ellie slapped a hand against the table. “What made you change your routine?”

  She was talking to herself now. Screw that. She’d rather talk with Clay. The desk phone scraped across the table as she pulled it over. Once the receiver started ringing, she clamped the earpiece between her ear and shoulder.

  Tap, tap, tap. Ring. Tap, tap, tap. Ring. Her pencil and the phone ring tap danced as she waited for Clay to pick up.

  “Clay Lockwood.” Her dark-haired secret agent man answered, sounding sexy. The husky quiver of his work voice made her blush.

  “What would make you want to cut out someone’s heart?”

  “Ellie, sweetheart, it’s proper phone etiquette for someone to say hello before asking such grotesque questions.” A rustling, like sandpaper on wood, scraped her eardrum as he moved to a more private spot. “Spurned lover?”

  “I don’t think the guy knows his victims personally. Could be a symbolic gesture?”

  Clay’s chair creaked as he moved around. “We’ve both seen that before. You want me to see if I can find something out here?” Ellie imagined him at his desk, shuffling papers in between sentences.

  “No.” Ellie shook her head, even though Clay couldn’t view her from the other end of the line. “Never mind. How are Luke and your little sister doing?”

  Better to change the subject. Getting Clay involved with Detective Stoddard already breathing down her neck was risky.

  “They’re fine.” He dragged the last word out and stayed silent for several seconds. “Ellie, what do you need? I mean, I love getting random calls from you in the middle of the day, but I’m sensing this one has a purpose. And let me guess, you don’t want to say it.”

  Ellie sighed. Might as well ask. “This guy, the Cupid Killer, has kills stretching all up and down the East Coast over the past twelve years. Jurisdiction might get dicey soon.”

  Especially if she happened to ruffle a feather or two. No part of this case sat right with her. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew Soul Mates was the answer. Most likely. Probably.

  “Hey, whatever I can do, babe. I’m happy to help, you know that.”

  “I do, but it’s hard to ask so much from you.” Ellie knew that Clay would do whatever he could to help her. He’d proven that to her so many times already.

  In the background, a male voice mumbled to Clay. His hand muffled the receiver, but she could still make out, “Sure, man. Give me ten, okay?”

  Ellie stood and walked to the wall, the telephone receiver still wedged against her clavicle and ear. A large map of the United States hung on the wall. “I’ve been mapping out his path.”

  “Getting results? Good ones with a common denominator, like the guy only strikes at resorts or clubs or bookstores? Anything to narrow the search down?”

  She scooped some pushpins from a plastic bin and placed one each at the locations of the two most recent crime scenes. “Of course not. He’s picked up a woman in a small town in New York, a guy from a barbeque place in Boston, someone at the beach, someone in the woods. I can’t get a bead on this guy’s MO.”

  On the other side of the line, Clay sighed. “God, I hate when that happens. The only thing worse than no trail is a confusing one.”

  Ellie leaned her butt on the table. “There are no corresponding geographical elements pointing anywhere. All I know is he’s had both a way to get around over the years and a way to connect with random people when he does. From the case files and the answers when I spoke to witnesses on the phone this morning, almost all the victims were heading out for dates and never returned.”

  She didn’t say anything else, but Clay knew her too well. “And? What aren’t you telling me?”

  After pulling a face at the phone, Ellie gave in. “It’s nothing, really. Just a silly app theory that keeps circling through my head.”

  “App theory?”

  “Yeah.” Ellie rolled one of the pushpins on the table. “I keep wondering if it’s possible our killer is using a dating app to lure his victims in.”

  “What does Stoddard think?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “She thinks it’s too soon to narrow the focus just yet.”

  “I see.” Ellie pictured Clay gazing off into space, stroking his jaw as he so often did when he was trying to piece a puzzle together. “You’re worried that Kingsley’s use of a dating app to snatch Valerie might be confusing your instincts?”

  She smiled, not at all surprised that he’d read her mind. “Hey, get out of my head already.” Overcome by the sudden need to move, Ellie began pacing the length of the room. “But yes, pretty much.”

  After the meeting with Kendra DeVry, Ellie had spent the morning conducting phone interviews of the previous victims’ friends and relatives. To be thorough, she’d asked if the victims had current accounts on Soul Mates. While she didn’t get definitive answers from everyone, the people who did feel confident in their knowledge all said yes.

  Not exactly a smoking gun. Her interviews had led to lukewarm results at best. The suspicion that crawled up her spine every time the app’s name came up wouldn’t allow her to drop it, though.

  “I definitely think it’s possible. Kingsley inflicted a lot of trauma on your family, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a little hypervigilant about anything that reminds you of him.”

  Ellie flinched and stopped pacing. Trauma. There was that word again. “Should I let it go?”

  “I’m not saying that, because your instincts are usually gold. I’m suggesting you proceed with caution. If Stoddard doesn’t think the dating app theory is viable yet, maybe hang back and sit on it for now? You don’t want to piss your new boss off right out of the gate.”

  “I guess.” Behind her ear, a throbbing she was getting unhappily used to started up. Her stomach followed suit, letting loose a series of growls guaranteed to frighten away more burglars than any guard dog. Had she eaten breakfast? Probably not. “Got any plans for lunch?” Her immediate craving was pizza, but she was open to any suggestion at this point.

  “Lunch? Ellie, it’s after two o’clock. You haven’t eaten yet?”

  “So what if I haven’t? Us fancy high society types eat lunch whenever we damn well please, don’t y’all know?” She flashed a sardonic wink, even though she knew Clay couldn’t see her. Then, the true implication of his statement hit her like a brick.

  Bethany. She was going to be late. The very sin she’d promised not to commit only that morning.

  “I would like to see you and Beth. I could come over to—”

  “Clay, I gotta go.” Ellie slammed the receiver down, the plastic on plastic making a loud clack and bell sound. How could she be so forgetful? The door to the room slammed shut behind her.

  The cold case room sat silent once more.

  16

  The SUV’s brakes screamed as Ellie slammed them down. The vehicle screeched to a halt in the fire lane in front of the school. She was so very late. Springing from her car in a state of frantic panic was becoming familiar to her. That couldn’t be good.

  Her eyes darted over the school’s almost empty entrance. Back and forth, she scanned the kids milling around on the grass. None carried sparkly backpacks over their shoulders or sported blonde braids dangling to their waist.

  Keep calm.

  She raced along the sidewalk, scrutinizing clusters of children and stopping anyone as she passed. “Have you seen a girl with braids, blonde hair, this high? No?”

  A small crowd of parents and children exited the building. In it, Ellie caught sight of blonde braids and a hint of pink. She broke through the group’s tight circle and spun the girl around. The child wasn’t Bethany.

  “Hey!” A woman, the girl’s mother Ellie gathered from the way she pulled the girl behind her for protection, stepped between them.

  “Have you seen my daughter? She’s this high—”

  As Ellie spilled the details, the other parent’s expression melted into pity. “No, I’m sorry. Come along, Dana.” She hustled her daughter away from Ellie.

  The thought, the one she’d had outside Kendra DeVry’s apartment, slammed back into her consciousness. He took her. Kingsley is alive, he’s here, and he’s taken Beth.

  For a split second, she saw Kingsley laughing at her and clapping his hands with glee. When she blinked, he was gone. All that remained was a bone-deep, icy terror.

  He’s dead. He can’t hurt us anymore.

  The knowledge didn’t slow her racing heart, though.

  Mrs. Rose, one of Bethany’s teachers, appeared in Ellie’s peripheral vision. Ellie lunged at her. “Bethany…where is she?” Her voice rose, and Ellie sensed Mrs. Rose recoil from the unexpected intrusion. The teacher held up her faded saddlebag for protection. Ellie hardly cared. A handful of ungraded tests wrapped in leather couldn’t compare to her wrath. “Answer me! Where is Bethany? I can’t find her anywhere!”

 

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