Chapter 1
Nighttime wasn’t always the best time for Kyra Patel to perform her job, especially now, but she always did what she had to, whenever and wherever it was.
Looking around under a streetlight on the chilly November evening, she smiled grimly as she picked up a small, torn piece of cloth from the pavement at the side of the curb of the area where she was working along with the other person in charge of her crime scene investigation team.
She loved her job as a CSI. Never mind that even in daylight it was more difficult these days to kneel and—carefully, in her gloved hands—pick up items from the street to examine and determine whether any or all might be evidence that could help identify and convict the perpetrator of the crime they were currently investigating.
But Kyra was more than six months pregnant, so bending and kneeling were becoming more of a challenge.
One she still met well. Like now, as she attempted to locate evidence near small St. Edwina’s Park along First Avenue in Manhattan, in the 130th Precinct where she currently worked as part of a special FBI team brought in by the local police to pursue serial killers.
And where a murder and robbery had occurred only a short while ago, at the edge of the park and not far from one of the large nearby buildings with a convenience store on the ground floor that was open all night.
The body of the deceased victim, a young woman named Susanne Shermore, had been taken away for further examination by the medical examiner. But Kyra had seen the body on the ground there, stabbed repeatedly, although the murder weapon hadn’t been found.
“You doing okay?”
Kyra glanced up to see that Patrick Colton, her fellow FBI agent with whom she ran that CSI team, had rejoined her.
Not surprising.
They worked together often. And this was a major crime they were now investigating together.
Kyra started to rise slowly from her kneel and saw Patrick hold his hand out to help her. She took it, using his firm grip to help her stand easier and more quickly.
Nice guy.
More than a nice guy. Even in the dim light, she could see, as always, that he was one handsome hunk in his long, zipped-up jacket, with a great-looking angular face, light brown hair in a thick mop on top of his head, and hazel eyes that appeared caring and concerned as they looked at her.
But his appearance was irrelevant. They worked together.
There was nothing between them but their jobs.
A shame, maybe...but the way it was. Even though she would like to find the right man to be the father to her child.
“I’m doing fine,” she said, pulling the edges of her jacket closer together, although they didn’t completely cover her baby bump. “And I’ve found a lot of potential evidence here.” She showed him the items she had placed into protective plastic bags now lying on the curb beside her, including the swatch of fabric that the victim had apparently ripped from the perpetrator’s clothing—probably a shirt since it was light blue and plaid. Then there were a couple other items she had found lying in the dirt on the pavement—including a pen and a metal pointed nail file the victim had apparently pulled from her bag and attempted to use as a defense weapon—which might have fingerprints on them, although she saw no blood. They’d have to be checked at the precinct anyway.
Also there was a pair of sunglasses. They appeared more masculine than feminine, so maybe they belonged to the killer.
Another piece of evidence that could be helpful was a credit card with Susanne’s name
on it. She might have been holding it, but if the killer had somehow gotten that out of her bag and dropped it, it might also have his prints on it.
Was anything else lying in the surprising amount of dirt along the street? Kyra thought she’d gotten everything important there, although she’d be happy to have Patrick double-check.
In any case, what had happened seemed fairly clear. Susanne had apparently fought back, to no avail, although she’d struggled hard enough to cause those evidence items to drop to the ground.
Her boyfriend who had joined them now watched from a short distance away, talking to one of the officers who’d arrived to secure the site. He’d said she had been wearing a Rolex watch and two gold rings. Plus she’d had other valuables with her in a Birkin bag.
They’d all, including the bag, apparently been stolen by the perpetrator. None of them were there now.
“If only she’d come inside with me,” the boyfriend had wailed. “We had just left the theater and were walking home by way of the park, but I stopped to buy a bottle of water.” He’d pointed to the convenience store. “Oh, I wish I hadn’t. And I didn’t see what was going on or I’d have run out here too.”
With those kinds of valuables visible, Kyra wasn’t surprised the woman was targeted. And it wouldn’t have ended differently even if the boyfriend had been outside, she figured.
Because Kyra believed she knew who the perpetrator was: the criminal referred to as the Jewelry Slayer. He hadn’t yet been identified, but that was one of the things she was attempting to help with.
She’d discuss it further later with Patrick and others on their CSI team.
Right now, Patrick was looking at the evidence Kyra had collected in those clear plastic bags. While she’d started going over things here, he had worked farther down the street questioning a few people who’d apparently been in the area when the crime had been committed. Kyra didn’t know if he’d learned anything useful but doubted it, considering his presence with her now, looking over the evidence.
At the moment, the area was cordoned off with crime scene tape the officers had attached, though she didn’t see any people hanging out behind it at this hour, and the cops weren’t nearby either. Often at these kinds of sites, curious onlookers who wanted to know more of what was happening would hang around, but the few people she’d noticed before must have left already.
Had any of them seen anything? If so, had they revealed it to one of the cops, or to Patrick? She’d have to find out soon but doubted it, since anyone who had witnessed something would probably have been told to remain there for further questioning.
“I hope there are lots of prints on these but doubt they’ll be much help,” Patrick said, now kneeling near Kyra beside where she had placed the limited evidence she’d found so far—and she doubted there was much more around here. He helped her insert each of the small bags into a larger one she would use to bring it all in for further evaluation.
What was here might actually help them catch the Jewelry Slayer this time. Who knew?
Or was this yet another murder by the Jewelry Slayer that might not be solved? Judging by the past lack of success, she was concerned that was the case.
If only—
“Help! Please!” screamed a woman’s voice from the direction of the convenience store
but somewhere in the park.
“Stay here,” Patrick said immediately. “I’ll go see what’s going on. Maybe someone else is being attacked.”
“Please be careful,” Kyra said as he stood and headed off in the sparse light in the direction of the cry. She had no doubt the Jewelry Slayer would be fine with killing an FBI agent, and since they wore professional clothes but not uniforms, despite being in law enforcement, the killer wouldn’t necessarily know who they were—not that it was likely to make a difference to him.
But she hoped that if whoever had screamed was under attack, Patrick would be able to help her. She knew Patrick well enough to recognize he would do all he could.
Glancing often in the direction he’d gone, Kyra continued scanning the ground in case she had missed something, although she felt fairly sure she’d found all that was there.
Would it be enough to—
Someone darted out from the other side of some trees near her, a guy in a black hoodie pulled forward to cover his face.
“Hey!” she called as he quickly approached. What was going on?
Before she could react, he grabbed the bag and pushed her hard, starting to run his foot over the area where she’d been collecting evidence, clearly attempting to erase anything that might be left.
“No!” she shouted while struggling to maintain her balance. She reached toward him, unable to grab the bag but yanking the hoodie so his face was uncovered.
She got a good look at his face—young, with a furious scowl and a bit of dark facial hair.
“You stupid, interfering cop,” he growled, advancing toward her.
She screamed and covered her belly protectively, but he didn’t stop.
Not till Patrick appeared again, running from the direction where he’d headed before.
The guy didn’t wait. Still holding the evidence bag, he fled before Patrick could reach them.
Kyra felt relieved that her baby was okay. That she was okay.
But she also felt furious with herself.
Sure, she had seen him, but she didn’t recognize him. And if that had been the Jewelry Slayer, she had missed an opportunity to take him into custody—and prevent him from killing again. Plus, he had stolen the evidence she had so carefully collected.
“Kyra, are you okay?” Patrick finally reached her, too late to catch up with the guy who had attacked her—and apparently run off with the evidence bag.
Patrick definitely wasn’t happy, and he was worried.
“I’m okay,” Kyra responded, but her voice cracked and he didn’t believe what she said. She still stood there, on the sidewalk now, holding her stomach.
What if something had
happened to her baby?
What if the guy who’d come after her had managed to somehow harm both Kyra and her unborn child?
Damn. He liked his coworker. A lot. If only he’d been right here, beside her—
“I’m calling 911,” he said. “Getting an ambulance here. We’re taking you to the hospital to get checked out.”
“That isn’t necessary,” she said, although her tone still wasn’t convincing. Plus, her dark eyes appeared strained, and she was bent over a bit so she appeared shorter than her usual slender, tall height.
She still looked lovely, with her long dark hair pulled back behind her head in a clip. Her lips were pink and smooth, though drawn into a stressed frown.
Without saying anything else, Patrick called 911, then explained to the operator who he was, where he was and the situation with his coworker who was pregnant and required immediate medical assistance and a ride to the nearest hospital to get checked out.
When he hung up, he looked at Kyra. She was staring at him, her expression suggesting she wasn’t exactly happy, but she accepted what he’d done—was maybe even okay with it.
Though she was standing, she still seemed slumped a bit. He wanted to hold her, for support. To hug her—but of course he didn’t.
Although he would have grabbed her if there was any indication she couldn’t remain standing by herself.
“You could just have gone after the suspect,” Kyra said. Was she accusing him of ineptitude? But then she added, “I appreciate your joining me though, and I doubt you could have caught up with him. I’m probably fine, and so is my baby. But... Well, to be sure there aren’t any internal problems, I’ll be glad to get an examination. So, thanks. I just hope we find a way—”
“To catch the SOB who did this to you,” he finished, aiming his scowl in the direction the guy had fled.
“And stole the evidence that would undoubtedly have his fingerprints and more, and would have pointed to him as the killer.” She seemed to hesitate. “I’m not sure you were close enough to see what happened, but—”
“I saw that you pulled off his face covering. Right?”
As glad as he was that his fellow crime scene investigator now might know what their target looked like, he’d been alarmed that the guy would hurt her even more after she viewed him that way.
But Patrick had stepped up his run, and the guy must have seen him then since he took off as Patrick drew closer.
“Yes,” she responded. “I got a good look at him. Would I recognize him again? I certainly hope so. But what happened to that woman who screamed? Did he somehow harm her too?”
“I was definitely played,” Patrick growled, clasping both hands into fists. “She disaappeared
into one of those buildings before I reached her, and I couldn’t locate her inside. Didn’t look like anything was wrong. She must have been a collaborator of our perp, trying to draw my attention from you so he could steal the evidence back. And it worked, damn it.”
“It’s okay,” Kyra said, clearly trying to soothe him when she was the one needing soothing. Protection.
And he had failed her.
“We’ll find her too, hopefully,” Kyra continued. “And we’ll definitely find our perp and get back the evidence.”
Patrick certainly hoped so. He would do all in his power to make that come true.
But what if the guy who’d attacked Kyra had been another collaborator of the killer?
Well, for the moment, what was most important was to take care of Kyra.
Where was the damned medical—
A siren sounded nearby. Good. Help was finally arriving.
At least some of his frustration eased a little.
But his CSI duties were kicking at his mind. He needed more information from Kyra about her attacker, but this wasn’t the time to ask her those kinds of questions. Most important right now was to make sure she, and her baby, were okay.
Plus... Well, it would help if they could verify her alertness and health if she actually did point out their perp. It wouldn’t do them any good if he hired a lawyer who claimed their eyewitness was too out of it to have gotten a good look.
An ambulance rolled up to the curb beside them, the usual kind from the Fire Department of New York that resembled a pickup truck with a red stripe along the side and a white enclosure at the rear where patients could be examined and transported.
A couple of EMTs exited from the front, both in beige jackets with yellow and gray stripes, again what Patrick was familiar with.
One EMT was a woman, the other a man. They both hurried toward where Patrick stood beside Kyra, who remained standing beside him but appeared exhausted. He wished he’d helped her sit down on the curb.
But the EMTs took over now, seating her on a gurney they removed from the ambulance, looking her over, asking questions including the length so far of her pregnancy—nearing seven months, she told them. Since they worked together, Patrick was aware of that, even though he wasn’t exactly familiar with how large the pregnancy bump should look by now.
Nope, he wasn’t married. Didn’t have kids. Wasn’t sure he ever wanted any, although with the right woman in his life... Nope.
Still, his mind started to wonder what it would be like to be close in that way to Kyra, this woman who was almost as high-ranking as him on their crime scene investigation team.
Yes, he liked her. Admired her. And—well, found her much too attractive, although he’d never let her, or anyone else, know that.
“Okay,” the male
EMT said, turning to look at Patrick. “She doesn’t seem in bad shape, but we’ll take her to the hospital for further examination, just to be sure.”
“Good idea,” Patrick said. “I’ll come along.”
He knew there’d be room in the ambulance, even with his large equipment bag. And since they knew he was in law enforcement he figured they’d let him join them.
No one said otherwise, at least.
And under the circumstances, when the attacker knew she had seen his face, there was no way Patrick would let Kyra out of his sight.
Chapter 2
Kyra was in a small, private room in the emergency area of the nearest hospital to the crime scene, one of New York City’s best. She appreciated that.
She also appreciated the care with which she had been treated by the EMTs who had come when Patrick called for help—even though she hoped she didn’t really need medical attention.
She’d be fine. The guy had pushed her, but he hadn’t struck her or harmed her physically in any other way.
But she couldn’t be sure about her baby—and that was what was important.
“How are you feeling?” Patrick had stayed with her through all of this and now sat on a chair near the narrow bed where she lay, still in her loose white blouse and black pants, but she’d taken her jacket off since it was warm in here. ...
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