Well, his days were numbered.

  All Tyrone had to do was give CJ what she wanted, and that bastard was going down. Tyrone wanted him on his knees so bad he could taste it. If the tape had everything Shelley had promised to deliver on it, Tyrone would own Braddock.

  Right now, he better hear from Cost.

  The other bastard was avoiding his phone calls too.

  Tyrone would give him a couple more chances. If he didn’t take his call, he would wish he had.

  Tyrone knew where he lived.

  He was through playing with these people.

  An example had to be set.

  The King don’t tolerate this shit.

  Braddock had better brace himself. The killing wasn’t over yet...not by a long shot.

  The King was about to give them something they wouldn’t forget.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Village Clinic, 11:50 p.m.

  Juanita hurried down the dark alley. As hot as it was, she shivered. She hated this damned village. It was creepy. Every lowlife in the city appeared to live here.

  Not wanting anyone to see her car at the clinic, she’d parked in the alley. CJ had asked for the key back. She had to be planning something. Probably to look for those lab results.

  As soon as Juanita made it to the clinic’s rear entrance, she pulled the ring of keys from her pocket. Her hand was shaking. The keys hit the ground. “Dammit.” She picked them up and rammed the key into the lock. As soon as she had the door open, she hurried inside. Cost wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour, but he could come earlier. She had to be prepared.

  The bastard might think he was going to give her a hard time, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  She wasn’t going down without taking him with her.

  CJ Patterson could threaten all she wanted. Cost would simply have to deal with her. If it put a big-ass debit in his bank account, well, that was just too bad.

  Juanita didn’t have any savings. No stocks, bonds. Nothing. She’d finally managed to buy a decent home for her son. Just last year she’d purchased the first new car she’d owned in her whole life. She wasn’t going to be the one losing here.

  Cost should have kept his dick in his pants. The bastard.

  She had documented everything. The whole sordid history since he’d become preceptor of the clinics where she worked. The STD he’d given Shelley three months ago. The stupid bastard had been whoring around with the prostitutes on this side of the Parkway for years. Too egotistical to use a condom every time. He had access to the clinic records, knew who was clean and who wasn’t. But that little strategy had failed him. Still, he’d thought he wouldn’t get caught if he kept his nasty business in the ghetto. Why would he worry? He’d had Juanita to cover his back.

  And the Vicodin. She knew all about that. He thought he was so smart. He’d kept that part hidden from her. But she’d figured it out. Did he think she was stupid? Please. The stuff the pathetic tramps asked for was usually for him. He paid them big bucks to get prescriptions filled and then give the painkillers to him. Shelley had never ratted him out, but several others had. Juanita had gained their confidence. They’d gotten tired of being abused by Cost. Juanita had lent a sympathetic ear.

  She had it all documented. Every damned part of it.

  He’d called and demanded this meeting, and she was going to show him just how much trouble he was in. CJ Patterson was the least of his worries. If he gave Juanita any grief, he would be sorry as hell. She would go straight to his big-shot grandfather, and his life, as he knew it, would be over.

  She knew exactly how afraid he was of his grandfather.

  Switching on the lights as she went, she tossed her purse onto her desk and flipped through the pages of the file she’d brought along with her.

  A smile tugged at her lips. Boy, was he going to be surprised. He would wish he hadn’t made this appointment with destiny.

  A distinct click told her he’d come through the rear exit. Shit. She’d forgotten to lock the door. The bastard was early. As she listened, she heard the deadbolt turn. He’d locked the door behind him.

  She smiled. That’s right. Take those precautions now. He should have been doing that way before now.

  Her smile slid into a grin. She couldn’t wait to hear him beg. The mere idea was more than enough to make coming to this appointment at this hour worth the trouble of finding a sitter.

  She sat down on the edge of her desk and reached into her purse for the gun she’d bought a couple of months ago. Her neighbor had thought it was a stupid idea. Never carry a weapon and definitely never pull a weapon on someone unless you plan to use it. She didn’t know if she could really use it on someone, but she felt safer having it with her.

  Feeling pretty damned cocky, she waited for Cost to reach her office. Boy, was he going to get the shock of his life. The whisper of rubber soles on the tiled corridor floor fueled her anticipation.

  Carter Cost was about to have his first real wake-up call. An appointment with the destiny he’d been avoiding for a whole decade.

  And no amount of threatening to take her son was going to get him out of this one. That threat had always been an empty one, anyway. He wouldn’t have dared let his father and grandfather learn of that little indiscretion.

  Her appointment paused before he reached the door. Bracing for the battle, she supposed.

  “Come on, you wimp,” she baited. “It’ll only hurt for a minute.”

  “Actually...”

  Her eyes widened as her own appointment with destiny appeared in the door.

  “It’s going to hurt a lot longer than that.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Merrimack Hall, Mill Village

  Sunday, August 8, 9:45 a.m.

  “Remember,” Braddock warned, “only let him watch thirty seconds. Any more than that and you’re in trouble.”

  CJ nodded. “I understand.” Her body had only just now stopped humming with desire after waking up in Braddock’s arms and making love this morning. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his weight on her body...his mouth on her skin.

  “CJ?”

  She hauled her attention back to the present. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “Cooper is already in position. I’ll be in the cable company van across the street. Once you get inside, stay in the lobby, since that’s where the TV and VCR are located. Place the listening device I gave you on the receptionist’s desk. Cooper and I will both be able to hear whatever is going on in the room.”

  He’d told her that it would be too dangerous for her to wear the device on her person. Nash would likely want to make sure she wasn’t wearing a wire.

  “I understand.” She glanced at the clock. “I should go.”

  “All right. Remember.” He waited until she met his eyes to continue. “If at any time you feel physically threatened, you say ‘I’ve had enough’ and we’ll be in there in seconds.”

  “Okay.”

  He stared at her, but he didn’t get out of the car as she’d expected he would. Instead he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her. Soft at first, then harder, desperately. Her heart reacted.

  “Be careful,” he murmured against her lips.

  She nodded. “I will.”

  He got out of her car and headed toward the van one of his friends had lent him for this impromptu sting.

  Sting. CJ had never been involved in a sting. She closed her eyes a moment to clear her head. She couldn’t screw it up.

  “You can do this,” she mumbled as she started her car. She drove the short distance to the clinic and parked. No other vehicles were in the parking area or on the street near the clinic. Relief washed over her. The point of arriving early was to ensure Nash didn’t get here first. The listening device and the videotape were in her bag. She grabbed the bag and headed for the front entrance.

  Stay in the lobby, she reminded herself. Hand shaking, she unlocked the door and went inside. She left the door unlocked. She wanted Tyrone to enter that door as well.

  After a quick survey of the lobby, she placed the listening device on the reception desk. It was no larger than a credit card. With the calendar and sign-in board on the desk, the device wasn’t even noticeable.

  She thought about taking the video out of her bag but decided to wait until Tyrone demanded to see it before doing that. On second thought, she figured she’d better take a look at the VCR control. Maybe even turn it on. The last thing she wanted to do was stick that tape in there and press the wrong button.

  Her nose wiggled. What was that smell?

  As if all other thought had vanished and her cognitive powers had zeroed in on the smell, her brain instantly analyzed the scent.

  Blood.

  She moved toward the door that separated the lobby from the corridor dividing the exam rooms. Braddock had told her to stay in the lobby, but this was...weird. Once beyond the door, the smell was overpowering. A dim light glowed from the last exam room on the right, the one where the X-ray machine was.

  She flipped on the corridor’s overhead light. Her heart jolted hard. Bloody shoeprints led from that exam room to the back door.

  “Oh, God.”

  She was moving, walking toward that end of the corridor before her brain kicked into gear. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Tyrone wasn’t here yet. There were no cars in the parking lot. No one else was supposed to be here.

  She stopped at the door to that final room on the right. A bloody handprint on the door frame at her eye level caused her to blink. Her heart stumbled. Then she looked into the room, toward the exam table in the corner.

  “Jesus Christ.” The floor shifted beneath her feet. She grabbed the door frame.

  Juanita Lusk, her body stripped naked, lay on the exam table. A lateral incision had been made across the lower part of her abdomen.

  CJ rushed to the exam table. Slipped. Almost fell. Blood was all over the floor, had dripped down the end and sides of the exam table to create a wide pool. It was thick. Coagulated. Had been there a while. More of those shoeprints.

  Lusk’s body was cool to the touch. Grayish pale. Her arms were restrained above her head with layers and layers of gauze. Her feet were stationed in the stirrups and restrained in the same manner.

  CJ knew she should call Braddock, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t respond. A section of lower intestine drooped between the poor woman’s spread legs. Dear God, who would have done this?

  As if the talons of fear had suddenly released her, CJ started to move, backing away from the horror in front of her. She lost her balance. Fell backward, hitting the tile floor on her hands and butt. “Braddock,” she whispered.

  Scream.

  She couldn’t.

  Her hands and feet scrambled for purchase on the blood-slickened floor.

  Get up! Get out of here!

  Her gaze locked on the underside of Lusk’s left thigh. Written in blood was...E. Noon.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  815 Wheeler Avenue, HPD, 4:15 p.m.

  “That’s his attorney, Suzanne Parker,” Cooper told Braddock. “She’s one of several local attorneys on retainer for his family.”

  CJ stared through the one-way mirror at Carter Cost. He sat at a table, his attorney whispering to him.

  Could he have killed Shelley because he thought she was pregnant? Would he have gone that far? A file had been scattered all over the office floor at the clinic, statements Lusk had taken from several young women who lived in the village. Most of whom had been picked up and questioned in the past three hours. Every single one a foot soldier for Nash. More than half of those had confirmed Lusk’s allegations against Carter. He had used the women to satisfy his sexual perversions and to get massive quantities of Vicodin.

  CJ closed her eyes and banished the images of Lusk. A wad of gauze had been stuffed into her mouth to stifle her screams. The ME had suggested that the surgery had been performed prior to death.

  How that woman must have suffered.

  Opening her eyes, CJ stared at the man on the other side of the glass. How could he have done such a thing? She wouldn’t have thought him capable. But those were his shoeprints all over the floor. His bloody handprint on the door frame.

  Were the E. Noon references his perverted way of showing that those he had murdered were nothing, no one? But CJ still couldn’t get right with the idea that it was Cost. This felt more like Tyrone’s work. The fact that Tyrone had used “no one” in his note to Braddock when his niece had been murdered could be coincidence and totally unrelated to the murders that had taken place in the village and signed E. Noon. Braddock had confirmed with Dobbins, the ME, that she had found no trace of such a signature on or in—CJ shuddered—Celeste’s body.

  Did that mean that the only recent murder Tyrone was responsible for was Celeste’s?

  It just didn’t feel possible that a man like Carter Cost, a man she’d known on some level for more than a decade, who had so very much to lose, could actually be capable of murders this horrific.

  Nash hadn’t showed for their meeting, which looked suspicious. He hadn’t been at home when two HPD officers had gone to his house to round him up for questioning.

  His absence didn’t make him guilty. Nash hadn’t known the details of what Lusk had done to Shelley and Carter. He hadn’t known the lab results were fixed. That Lusk had been playing this sick, twisted game. CJ supposed Nash could have heard through the grapevine after yesterday’s confrontation between Lusk and Carter at the North Huntsville Clinic, but even if he had, why would he have cared?

  And if he hadn’t cared, why would he murder Lusk in such a manner? Braddock had said this kind of mutilation took one of two things: extreme evil, like a psychopath’s, or intense rage, the kind that comes with a revenge motive.

  Then again, Lusk’s murderer had known something about the human body and how to access what was inside. The scalpel had been wielded with precision. A lateral incision had been made on her lower abdomen to access her uterus—which had been severed from her body. The organ hadn’t been found at the scene. Apparently the killer had taken it, the same way he did Shelley’s missing body part. Considering the dog had eaten portions of Ricky, it was impossible to tell if the killer had taken anything from him. But it was entirely plausible to believe that was the case.

  Cost certainly possessed the skill to perform the unspeakable act. But so could pretty much anyone else with the aid of the Internet and a steady hand.

  Shaking off the horrifying thoughts; she forced herself to pay attention to what Braddock and Cooper were discussing.

  “Let’s get this party started,” Braddock said to his partner before turning to CJ. “You’re sure you want to watch this?”

  She nodded. “I have to.” She doubted anything she would hear would prove more horrifying than what she’d already observed at the scene.

  He squeezed her arm. Heat slid through her. Felt soothing. She was so cold inside.

  “Okay,” he relented. “The chief and the district attorney will be joining you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Braddock,” Cooper called from the door. “Let’s get this done.”

  His hand fell away from CJ’s arm, but he hesitated another moment before turning away.

  CJ watched him until the door had closed behind him. She thought of the way he’d made love to her this morning. They’d both needed to feel something besides this horror.

  As Braddock and Cooper introduced themselves to the attorney, the door to the viewing room opened and two men entered, nodded to CJ, and took up positions next to her. One she recognized at the chief of police. The other she presumed to be the district attorney Braddock had mentioned.

  “My client,” Parker began, drawing CJ’s attention to the interview room beyond the mirror, “is prepared to make a statement. You may question him, as long as I approve of the questions, but only after he has made his statement.”

  “Makes our job easier,” Cooper said as she dragged out a chair and sat down. “But keep in mind that we have his shoeprints and a perfect handprint in the victim’s blood.”

  Braddock adjusted the tape recorder positioned on the center of the table. For the record he stated the date and time and named those present. When he’d taken a seat, he said, “Dr. Cost, you may begin the statement you, of your own accord, have prepared. Start by stating your name and address for the record.”

  Carter glanced at his attorney then cleared his throat. “My name is Carter Cost. Dr. Carter Cost. I live at 44 Ledge View Drive. On July thirtieth I was approached by Shelley Patterson and informed that she was pregnant.”

  CJ’s insides tied into knots. She ordered herself to stay calm and pay attention. She needed to hear what he had to say. She could deal with the emotions later.

  “Do you recall—”

  “No questions, Detective,” Parker warned. “Not until he’s finished.”

  Braddock yielded to her demand.

  “I have an addiction to Vicodin,” Cost confessed, “and Shelley and a number of her...colleagues had been helping me by obtaining prescriptions for the Vicodin I required. I paid them well and participated in sexual activities, particularly with Shelley, on several occasions.”

  Cost stared at the table for a long moment.

  The district attorney standing next to CJ whispered something to the chief, but she couldn’t make out his words. She wanted to believe this would finally be over. That Cost had done these horrible things and that now she could finally start to put this nightmare behind her. But she couldn’t get right with the idea. She just didn’t believe he was capable of these kinds of gruesome murders.

  “A few days ago,” Cost continued, lifting his gaze to the detectives across the table, “I was contacted by Tyrone Nash. He claimed to have a video recording of the events that transpired in Shelley’s house the night she was murdered. He said that if I didn’t give him three hundred thousand dollars, he would ruin me with the video.”