Page 11 of Unhinged

“I don’t know.” She lifted one shoulder. “He hung up before I could ask.”

The detective nodded as he pulled a card from his pocket and handed it over to her. “Thanks for calling it in and for answering our questions. I assume you’ll be around if we need anything?” At her nod, he continued. “Let me know if anything else comes to mind.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the card and stood. “I appreciate your help.”

Detective Sanchez held the door for her as she left the small interrogation room. Over the past few hours, the sun had risen fully in the sky, and its bright light streamed through the glass doors. She walked outside, shielding her eyes, debating what to do. Still shaken from the call that morning, she debated canceling today’s appointments but quickly nixed the idea. It would give her something to do—something to keep her mind off the woman’s murder.

Shortly after she arrived at Monique’s house, reporters had flocked to the scene in droves, the information apparently leaked by a neighbor or someone working the case. She’d spoken with the patrolmen as well as the coroner, but it seemed they’d never had a chance to save Monique.

The killer must have spent several hours with her, judging from the damage inflicted on her body. The deceased woman had several defensive wounds, as well as the deep laceration that stretched from ear to ear and ultimately ended her life. Just like Selah.

She shivered at the thought. She’d tried for so long not to think about that night, but it always loomed in the back of her mind. She recalled each detail as if it were yesterday instead of almost ten years ago now. Selah had put up a good fight, but her killer had overpowered her, taken advantage of her before killing her with a vicious slice across the throat. And now he was back.

Looking left and right, examining her surroundings, she strode quickly through the parking lot and climbed into her car. As soon as the door closed, she locked it. Even the oppressive heat couldn’t dispel the chill that had seeped into her bones, and she ran her hands briskly over her arms. Starting the car, she headed toward her office building and made her way to the top floor.

Fiona met her in the lobby. “Good Lord, girl, what in the name of all things holy happened this morning?” Dogging her steps the entire way back to her office, she continued, “I turned on the news this morning, and there you were. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

She scrunched up her nose. “They already ran the story?”

Fiona shook her head. “They only showed a little clip this morning. Said they’d have the ‘full story’ at six.”

She rolled her eyes. “Vultures.”

“So?” She stood next to the desk, hands propped on her generous hips. “What happened?”

Sinking into her chair, she leaned back and rubbed her temples. “I got a call this morning from the killer. He said a woman needed help and gave me her address, so I called it in to the police and drove to her house. I’m sure the police would have stopped by to check things out, but I needed to see for myself.”

“Why in the blue blazes did he call you?”

She bit her tongue. She’d never told Fiona of her past, and she didn’t intend to now. No use worrying the poor woman until the police were able to find more information. Little spooked Fiona, though; the woman would probably take it upon herself to be her personal protector.

“I’m not sure. The police are trying to figure that out.”

Concern settled over her face. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home and relax?”

She shook her head. “No, I need something to take my mind off it all.”

Fiona nodded sagely. “Well, if you change your mind or if you need anything, you just let me know.”

She shot her an appreciative smile. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Shutting off thoughts of Monique’s murder, she turned her attention to the computer, determined to lose herself in work. Four sessions and several hours later, she walked through the front door and dropped her purse and keys on the console table in the foyer. Exhaustion pulled at her, her mind and body tired from having been roused from bed so early. Too tired to cook, she poured herself a bowl of cereal and carried it to the living room.

Curling up in a corner of the couch, she flipped on the TV. Immediately, her face filled the screen, and a female reporter spoke in the background. “… local doctor was called to the scene early this morning. Monique Henderson, a resident of a quaint community just outside of Miami, was the victim of a brutal…”

She flipped channels until she landed on a home and garden show. She couldn’t believe the news had spread so quickly. And why did they have to involve her? It was bad enough that a woman had been brutally murdered, but now everyone would think she was somehow involved. They hadn’t attended college together, nor were they even passing acquaintances. She’d told the cops the same thing that morning, but the reporters didn’t know that.

Hopefully, no one leaked any details of her past. She’d reserved that information until speaking with Detective Sanchez, and he seemed intent on keeping it secret as it wasn’t yet relative to the case. If they found new evidence, though, they might have to dig further into her background. She had no desire to dredge that up again.

She’d spent months after Selah’s death working with the local police, appealing to the community, trying to find the killer. It seemed he’d just vanished into thin air. No one had seen him, no one had recognized him or come forward.

But now she knew—he’d always been there watching, waiting for the right time.

CHAPTER

FIVE

“Hannah! Thank God you’re all right.” Dr. Andrew Chandler practically flew through the doorway and drew up short next to Hannah’s desk.