“What are you waiting for?” he asked.
The girl ran into the toilet, knocking into Lilith’s sister as she was coming out.
“Hey, you little brat, watch where you’re going.”
He grabbed the sister’s arm and pulled her back to the cot. “You really are a controlling bitch, aren’t you?”
He had her wrist in one hand, the cuff in the other, when what felt like a hot poker hit him in the right kidney. He let go and whipped around to see the girl in a fighter’s stance.
Her expression reminded him of Lilith.
“And what do you think you’re going to do to me?” he demanded.
“This!”
She kicked and he moved, deflecting the strike to his knee. Then a live weight was on his back, arms wrapped around his neck. For a moment, they had him, one trying to strangle him, the other hitting him over and over in the stomach and head, kicking at his knees and his balls.
And then he got pissed, jerked forward in a crouch, so the one on his back went flying over his head into the other. They both cried out as they landed in a heap.
“Nice try,” he said.
Now it was his turn. He showed them how to do it, how to tear into a weaker opponent, taught them a lesson with his fists and feet that they would never forget.
Not for the short time they had left to live…
Chapter 20
LILITH FELT LIKE she was on Speed. Her pulse was racing. Her mind was whirling. She couldn’t drive back to the club fast enough to find Gabe and tell him about Michael’s recording of Hannah.
But once she got there, he was nowhere to be seen.
As she made her way to the bar, she was the focus of attention. Men who recognized her made little sounds of appreciation when she passed them. Undoubtedly they’d started fantasizing about her while she danced.
No fake smiles from her tonight. She was taut. Hostile. They quickly turned their eyes away.
“Joe, have you seen Gabe?”
“Yeah, he was here earlier. Left maybe a half hour ago.”
“Thanks.”
Now what? She didn’t have Gabe’s phone number, but she had Pucinski’s.
Pulling out her cell, she left the back way. She was so angry and so wrapped up playing over the relationship with Michael in her head, that she almost missed the arm dangling out of the trash bin.
Almost.
She stopped dead in her tracks, and the breath froze in her throat.
A woman’s arm.
A black woman’s arm.
Her first instinct was to run and get help, but she couldn’t make herself move. She stuffed the cell phone back in her pocket. Her hands shook as she lifted the trash bin’s lid, but even before she got it open, Lilith knew what she would find.
Caresse lay on the heap of black bags, her limbs askew as if someone had tossed her inside as carelessly as the rest of the garbage. She was still dressed in her skimpy costume, and even under the yellow alley light, Lilith could see she was covered in her own blood.
The costume left her stomach bare, exposing an open knife wound.
Thinking Caresse was dead, Lilith choked back a sob. The dancer had been kind to her, had warned her to stay safe. So what wrong move had she made to incite such violence. Who did this to her? The hunter-murderer?
Not that she fit his profile.
But what if…
The idea drifted off when Lilith realized that blood still oozed from the open wound.
Could Caresse still be alive?
Taking a closer look, she saw the woman’s lips part slightly — Caresse was still breathing, if barely.
Lilith used a hand to apply pressure to the wound. Warm blood oozed between her fingers. She swallowed hard when she tasted bile.
“Help is coming, Caresse. Don’t die,” she pleaded, and then, with her free hand, pulled her cell phone from her pocket and made that call to Pucinski.
MICHAEL TOOK a fast shower and left the bathroom wrapped in a towel. The place was quiet. Too quiet. Fearing that, despite her promise, Lilith had left again, he went straight through the bedroom to the living area.
“Lilith?”
Then he saw the monitor.
The freeze-frame of Hannah.
And the open door.
“Fuck!”
He called her cell, but the call went straight to voice mail.
“Come on, Lilith. Where are you?”
LILITH PACED the corridor of the emergency room, waiting to hear about Caresse. She couldn’t get rid of the picture in her mind of Caresse covered in her own blood. It was a snapshot that would be burned in her brain forever.
The ambulance had arrived two minutes after she’d made the call. Detective Pucinski was with Caresse now, wanting to get a statement when the medical team brought her around.
If they brought her around.
What if they didn’t?
What if Caresse didn’t survive?
Let her be all right. She didn’t know if anyone was listening, but she hoped so. No one deserved to die like that.
She took a seat in the waiting area and sat frozen, her mind going in circles. She’d left Michael’s place after thinking he could be the killer. But she’d been with him when Caresse had been knifed, so he’d had nothing to do with that. And how likely was it that two killers stalked the same club? She didn’t believe in coincidence. At least she was relieved that she’d been correct about Michael in the first place. His only crime had been to keep what he knew about Hannah and her to himself.
So who had knifed Caresse? And why?
Had the dancer seen or overheard something that could shed light on The Hunter Case? Did the killer decide to keep Caresse from talking? If so, no doubt he believed he’d left her for dead.
Which made her wonder whether Hannah and Carmen were still alive.
Just when she thought she couldn’t stand waiting another minute without some kind of information, Pucinski came down the corridor looking for her. Lilith jumped out of her seat and met him halfway.
“Did she make it?”
He nodded. “The surgery went okay. She’s not awake yet, but they say she’s gonna live.”
“Thank God.” Relief eased the tension in Lilith’s body — she’d been strung tight since finding Caresse. “Who could have done this to her?”
“The same psycho who took your sister.”
“I thought so, too. If that’s true, not Michael, then. I was with him.”
“I assume you mean Wyndham.” When she nodded, he said, “She must have been closing in for the bust, and the killer must’ve figured it out.”
“Bust?” Confused, Lilith asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Arresting the bastard. She’s been working the club since the second murder. Got all torn up because she didn’t get to him before he got to your sister.”
“Wait. You’re saying that Caresse was the undercover cop?” When he nodded in agreement, Lilith’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh, my God.” Stunned, she asked, “What about Gabe O’Malley? He’s been at the club every night.”
“Not on the job, he hasn’t. He’s been assigned to a paperwork detail for the last three months. Got benched after working over a perp.”
Her mind already churning, Lilith backed off. “If Caresse wakes up, tell her I’m pulling for her.”
“Hey, wait a minute!”
But she couldn’t wait. She ignored him and raced out of the hospital.
Why had Gabe made her believe he was working undercover if he wasn’t? She had to find out if she’d missed the obvious right under her nose. If Gabe was the one. She had to be sure this time. She’d been ready to tell Gabe that Michael could be guilty, and she’d been wrong.