Then she turned, watching the traffic, waiting to cross the road, and he gasped aloud.

  The light from the streetlamps caught the strands, making them shine like gold. Her features were pure and even, almost otherworldly in their beauty. And her eyes, oh her eyes. They were the color he had been searching for, like the sky on a clear summer’s day. He felt a jolt of recognition go through him, a sense of knowing that this was his Eve, his Iseult, his Frejya.

  He sped up his pace, his breath quickening. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the anticipation building inside of him. He was about to meet his destiny, to finally find the one he had been searching for.

  He followed her, now closing the distance, watching her every move, waiting for the right moment. Would it come? It might not, and he knew that he needed to be prepared for the disappointment. She could open a door and disappear into one of the buildings, and be lost to him, for a while at least.

  For a woman like this, he would wait. And he was good at waiting unseen. He’d done it before.

  She walked with poise, almost like a queen, her steps sure and measured. He watched in awe as she crossed the street, her eyes focused ahead, not once glancing back. That made him frown. Surely she should sense him, just as he was sensing her? The power of his gaze alone should draw her attention, if the attraction was even half as strong on her side.

  But maybe he had to be patient and give it more time. He hurried forward, jostling another man carrying a briefcase, who glanced at him, looking annoyed. Quickly, quietly, he apologized, not wanting to create a scene or do anything that might delay his pursuit.

  Then he drew in another sharp breath as he saw where she was going.

  She turned down a side street, narrow and dark, the streetlights flickering overhead, casting eerie shadows on the walls. He saw her look back, and thought he picked up a nervous expression on her face, as if she wasn’t sure.

  No wonder she felt nervous. Love was terrifying. No doubt, she was sensing the pull of attraction, the overwhelming force that was going to change her life forever, just as he was.

  All he needed to do was to stand in front of her, meet her eyes, and see that power mirrored there.

  The street was deserted, the only sound the distant hum of traffic on the streets beyond. He took a deep breath, inhaling the musty scent of garbage and damp that permeated the air, but to him, it smelled of ancient stone, and of steel, of wood smoke and roasting flesh of the boars caught in the mighty forests surrounding the city.

  He let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

  There she was, walking more slowly now. Waiting for him.

  He sped forward, his breath catching in his throat. This time, he willed her to feel the same.

  “Love me,” he murmured, as he reached her. “Be my muse.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Juliette hurried out of the police station, wondering why the hotel receptionist was calling her back, and hoping it might mean an important lead. Had she gotten the list of old staff members from the time of her father’s murder?

  Right now, anything would be helpful.

  “Hello?” she said in hopeful tones.

  “Hello, Ms. Hart. It is Gertie Weber, from the Hotel Kompfort,” the receptionist said, and Juliette could hear a note of reproach in her tone. After all, Juliette had rudely insisted on taking her name, which held her accountable for what she had asked.

  “Thank you so much for calling me back, Ms. Weber,” she said, wanting to show gratitude where it was deserved.

  “It is no problem.” Now the receptionist was sounding marginally appeased. “I went into the records and compiled a list of every staff member who was working here at the time that Mr. Hart was killed.”

  She sounded proud of her own efficiency, and Juliette was overwhelmed.

  “That’s amazing. I really appreciate it. It could be extremely helpful to me. Thank you,” she gushed.

  “It is no problem.” Juliette’s outpouring of gratitude had definitely mollified her. “I will email it to you, yes?”

  “Please. That would be great.”

  After giving her the address, Juliette hung up, and then she turned back, quickly, to the room she’d just left. Rushing in, holding up a hand for Wyatt and Sierra to wait, she took down the login details and the password to access the criminal records system. Thanks to that list, she might need it later.

  After doing that, she hurried downstairs.

  She had a small lead on her father’s cold case and she couldn’t be more thankful. But as for the current case, the one that was now turning into an emergency, there were no leads.

  “What are we going to do now?” Sierra asked, her voice forlorn, as they headed for their unmarked car.

  Juliette sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the case bearing down on her. “We’ll keep searching. We won’t give up. There are things we can do tomorrow, like approach the university.” They were going to compile a list of everyone who’d been at the class that Iris Davies attended. “We could take that further, and ask for the names of all the professors and staff who work there.”

  “We can do nothing more tonight?” Wyatt asked, and she could tell he was keen to work until the small hours. “No research?”

  She shrugged. “What leads do we have? Businesses are closed. The university is closed. We can sit in front of a screen getting nowhere, or else we can start again in the morning.”

  “I’m worried he kills again before the morning,” Wyatt grumbled, and her stomach clenched hard as she accepted that reality.

  Despite the police warnings, what if there was that one person who didn’t listen or who simply hadn’t heard? Who headed out alone and found the killer waiting? Juliette shook her head, not wanting to think about it.

  Much as she wanted to go out and prowl the streets herself, trying to protect everyone she saw, she knew it would do no good. Thanks to Fischer, the police had allocated every available resource, and if Juliette was an exhausted wreck tomorrow, it wouldn’t help her or the case.

  “The police will patrol where they can. Let’s find a hotel,” she said firmly.

  *

  An hour later, they were checking into a hotel in central Berlin. There had been a problem finding accommodations, and Sierra, who’d taken on the job, had had to call around to several places. It was summer, and Berlin was bursting at the seams. Tourists were booked solidly into the first three hotels she tried. Eventually, they found a fourth that had just had a group cancellation, and hurried there.

  The hotel proved to be much fancier than the first three. Standing on the opulent red carpet at the polished reception counter, Juliette inhaled delicious smells from the dining room.

  Desperate their circumstances might be, but food was food, and they all needed to eat.

  “I think we go straight inside there,” she said, checking the time. “Eat first, then get some rest?”

  As the receptionist handed them their keys, she said, “There is a security advisory from police, that women should not go out on their own after dark tonight.” She looked sternly at both Juliette and Sierra.

  Juliette felt very grateful that the police warning was being so widely publicized. If victims were scarcer, the killer might decide to delay his deadly spree by one more night. She could only hope.

  They sat down in the dining room, with classical music playing softly in the background, picking up the chink of cutlery and murmur of voices from the other diners.

  Wyatt was frowning as he looked at the menu.

  “I’m not sure about all these sausages,” he said, in a voice where Juliette could detect real fear. “Seems like the Germans love them, but I don’t feel so confident.”

  Juliette couldn’t help but smile at Wyatt’s apprehension. “The Germans make them very well,” she said, scanning the menu herself. “But if you’re nervous, you could always have the pork schnitzel. It comes with cabbage and potato salad on the side. That’s what I’m leaning toward.”

  Sierra was scanning the menu with interest. “Would it be wrong of me to just have the chocolate torte?” she said.

  Juliette grinned, feeling the tension within her diffuse just a little. Despite the circumstances, the company of her teammates was soothing and more than that, it was boosting her morale. “Well, let’s think about that,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to be hungry tomorrow, and who knows what time we might have to make a start? I’d go for a two-course meal if I were you. Start with something that isn’t dessert, and you could always ask for the torte in a takeaway box.”

  “Good idea.” Sierra brightened. “In that case, I’ll have the bratwurst also. You want a bite of it, Wyatt?”

  Wyatt shook his head as if horrified she’d even made the offer. “All yours,” he said, as Sierra snorted.

  Sierra got on her phone, taking a call that Juliette guessed was from back home in the States, and she used the opportunity to question Wyatt about the warning he’d given her earlier.

  “You said you wouldn’t advise that Lucien and I tried the long-distance thing. I was wondering why?”

  Wyatt shook his head, giving her a world-weary gaze.

  Juliette knew she had the edge on Wyatt when it came to international experience, particularly in Europe. She had more direct experience in homicide investigation than Wyatt. She knew her European languages, and she hoped that her diplomatic skills were also as good as they could be.

  But where she was lacking was in relationship experience. That had largely been missing from her life, and suddenly, she felt as if she was in deeper waters than she could imagine.

  “Look, Juliette, I don’t know your situation,” he explained. “But I know enough, with my military tours, to have seen what a strain distance puts on relationships. Especially when they’re new. And policing, with the hours and the pressure on both sides, complicates it.” He shook his head, as if feeling annoyed with himself. “I hate to talk negatively like this. I don’t want to throw shade on your new relationship, but I want to be realistic. If he moves there, it’s not for a tour. He’s not coming back, he’s stationed permanently on the other side of France. And you’re here.”

  Juliette let out a long, slow breath. Then she glared at him.

  “We’ll be the exception, if it happens,” she said defiantly.

  “I truly hope so. I’m rooting for you,” he replied apologetically.

  The waiter was hovering, and Sierra was off her phone. Glancing at the menu, Juliette ordered the first thing that caught her eye, feeling a sudden lack of interest in food after that short discouraging conversation.

  With their orders placed, Juliette redirected the small talk, wanting to get it onto a more positive spin.

  “How are you finding your shared house in Paris?” she asked Sierra, hearing the forced cheeriness in her own tone.

  Sierra grinned. “Oh, it’s amazing,” she said. “I’ve got these two housemates who are just the coolest. We’ve been exploring the city together and trying all the best cafes, and a few shows, and of course, all the tourist places. I’ve even been to a few of the museums and art galleries. They’re really interesting. Last weekend, we all had an outing to the Louvre, and it was an amazing place. And the week before that, we took the train out to Versailles on Sunday. It was amazing. Do you know you can rent bicycles there and cycle around the grounds?”

  “That sounds great,” Juliette said, genuinely pleased that Sierra was finding so much to love about her new home city, and that this conversation had thankfully lightened the atmosphere.

  Their food arrived, and they ate in silence, with Juliette’s hunger surfacing again. As she bit into the pork schnitzel, savoring the tender meat and the crispy coating, and the tangy potato salad on the side, it brought back better memories of Germany, earlier ones, where family time and dishes had been enjoyed, before her father’s murder.

  Sierra was in raptures over the bratwurst, smothered in mustard and with sauerkraut on the side, while Wyatt, sticking to his guns, firmly refused to try any of it.

  As they finished their meal, Sierra requested a takeaway box for her chocolate torte, and they then made their way up to their hotel rooms.

  With no further research on the case to do tonight, she had other plans for her evening. When she was settled in her room, she promised herself, she was going focus on her father’s cold case. She was going to burn off her nervous energy by checking on each and every hotel employee who’d been working at the Hotel Kompfort at the time.

  Juliette was sure that a criminal had been hiding among them.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Leaning forward on the plush upholstered chair in her hotel room, Juliette opened the email with the records from the Munich hotel, and then she clicked the link to the German police database that they’d accessed earlier today.

  She took a deep breath, suppressing the guilt that flooded her, because she was not supposed to be using this database for her own objectives. She was only able to do it because they were in Germany, and had accessed the records earlier today. She could be in trouble if anyone found out what she was doing now.

  Juliette was going to risk the trouble. This was her chance, and she had to pursue it with everything she had.

  As she began her search through the database, Juliette felt vindicated, as if she’d delayed far too long in doing this and now, finally, she was ready. This was a big moment, and she hadn’t realized how impactful it would be. Determination was tautening like a steel wire inside her.

  She scrolled through the criminal database, cross-referencing the list of employees at the Munich hotel.

  It was slow going, and she needed to focus painstakingly on every name, and not miss a detail, but she was determined to leave no stone unturned.

  Juliette sat there, hunched over her laptop, her eyes fixed on the screen as she scanned through name after name.

  She caught her breath. Here was one.

  The name was Kurt Mueller. He had been employed at the Munich hotel at the same time as her father’s murder. He’d been a low-level employee, a bellhop, but three years prior to that, he’d spent a few months in prison for fraud.

  A criminal could have decided to go back to his old ways, especially if there was an incentive to do so. And Juliette had seen from her experience how easy it was for the bad guys to pinpoint ex-criminals. It was weird how they seemed to have a sixth sense about who had a record, and there was a magnetic pull that often drew the two together. This might have happened. Even if one of these low-level employees was not the killer, Juliette theorized that they could have been used by the criminals, by this faceless assassin, to enable access. After all, that hotel room door must have been opened by a normal key card. It hadn’t been forced.

  So either someone had sneaked in—perhaps knocking and entering during turndown, pretending to be the real guest, or else, they’d obtained a card.

  There had been nothing in the police report about any irregularities or entries during the turndown service, and in fact Juliette thought that there probably hadn’t been a turndown service in operation at the hotel at that time. So, someone had gotten a card from somewhere.

  That was one link that might have made it possible. She’d have to track Kurt Mueller down. Were there any others?

  After what seemed like hours, she found another name that caught her attention. Hans Gruben. He had worked at the Munich hotel for several years and had left shortly after her father’s murder. Perhaps that was significant. He had a history of assault. He’d attacked someone with a broken bottle during a drunken barroom brawl.

  Could that have led to him committing murder by stabbing? It might, she thought.

  Searching further, she found one final suspect. This one was a woman, named Helga Klein. She had been employed as a housekeeper at the Munich hotel during the time of her father’s murder. According to the police database, she had a record of petty theft and had served time in jail for it. She’d been fired a few months later.

  Juliette continued to search through the database, feeling taut with anticipation. She had a strong feeling that she was getting close to the truth.

  There were no further names that tied up to records, but now she had three to explore. She knew that it might take a lot of tedious legwork to find out where they were now, and to get face to face with them and ask questions. She’d have to be patient, check their current addresses, and then make travel plans under her own steam.

  As she closed the search, she was interrupted by her phone ringing. At this hour, and with this case on the go, the sound made her stomach clench.

  She grabbed it up, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw it was Lucien.

  “Bonjour,” she answered, smiling, automatically slipping into French for the conversation.

  “Ca va, Juliette,” he replied. “I have been thinking of you today. Are you making any progress?”

  She sighed. “No. We had a lead, but it didn’t pan out. He had an alibi.”

  Lucien made a sympathetic noise. “I am sorry to hear that. It is frustrating when things don’t go the way you hope.”

  “It’s been very discouraging,” she said. “He’s killing on such a short interval. There are a couple of hairs found at the scene, which are being DNA tested, and the German police have put out a cautionary to all women traveling alone, and we’re getting more information from various places, including the university where the first victim studied. But I’m still worried that we won’t prevent a third murder.”

  “I understand your concern,” Lucien said. “But you are doing everything you can, and you have a good team with you. You will catch him.”

  “I hope so,” Juliette said. “I’m just feeling stressed that we’re running out of time.”

  Lucien’s voice was calm and reassuring. “You cannot control everything, Juliette. You are doing everything in your power to catch this killer. Remember to take care of yourself too. You cannot help anyone if you are not taking proper care of yourself.”