Say You Love Me by Rita Herron Page B

secrets?” Jean-Paul asked.
    She nodded, but her gaze latched on to his hands, which were folded in front of him. Dark hair was sprinkled over his large knuckles. His nails were blunt but neat, his fingers scarred. He had strong, capable hands. Could they also be tender?
    â€œWhat else?” Jean-Paul prompted.
    She jerked her attention back to his face. “He said one day he’d tell me his name, but he had to build his kingdom first.”
    â€œHis kingdom?” Detective Graves made a note of it. “Maybe a religious reference. That could be important.”
    â€œIt means he’s going to kill again and again until we stop him,” Jean-Paul said.
    Britta’s face paled. “I told him he was a coward for hiding behind the notes.” She moved to the window, then closed the blinds so no one could look in. “He didn’t like that. He said he was in control.”
    Jean-Paul gave her an odd look. “You intentionally angered him?”
    â€œHe called me to brag about hurting this woman and I refused to satisfy his twisted mind by acting afraid,” Britta snapped. “I told him I wasn’t playing his games.”
    â€œAnd how did he react?” Jean-Paul asked.
    She raked her fingers through her hair. “He said he had another woman. I begged him to stop—not to hurt her—but he claimed she had to pay for her sins.”
    A muscle ticked in Jean-Paul’s jaw, while his partner leaned forward in the chair with his hands on his knees.
    â€œDid you hear anything in the background?” Jean-Paul asked. “A noise—maybe a boat, train, cars? A woman crying?”
    Britta shook her head. “Just his grating, sinister voice.” And the ticktock of the wall clock behind her.
    She rubbed her arms.
    How much time did this woman have left before she died?
    * * *
    J EAN -P AUL STOOD AND braced his hand on the back of the chair, his gaze fixed on the clock. Every second that passed lessened their chances of finding this woman alive. He could almost hear the woman’s screams for help in his head.
    Just as he’d imagined Lucinda had probably cried for him the night she’d died. Hoping he’d save her.
    But he’d failed.
    Would he fail this woman, as well?
    â€œI’m calling in the feds,” he finally said.
    His partner snarled. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”
    Jean-Paul shook his head. Pride be damned. The age-old territorial battle would no doubt ensue. Most of the cops didn’t like working with the feds. But his brother could always be trusted. And what choice did they have? So far, they were chasing their tails.
    They had to stop this psycho before he destroyed the town. The city had worked too hard in its recovery, had proven that the human spirit and heart of the Big Easy would survive no matter what. Just as his own family had.
    Except there had been casualties.
    Lucinda for one. And so many others….
    The ceiling fan hummed, stirring the humidity, and he scrubbed a hand over his neck. The fact that their UNSUB had Britta’s personal number worried him. “Do you want us to drive you someplace else tonight?”
    â€œWe’ve been over this before, Detective. I’m fine.” Her voice broke off, emotions teetering on the surface.
    Right. She had no family to call. She was virtually all alone. Jean-Paul itched to fold her in his arms and hold her.
    But his job came first. He needed to act on this latest call. Except they had no idea where to look for this girl or any clue as to her identity. If the man had chosen to take her to the bayou, they could be anywhere in the miles and miles of endless marshy swampland. He had to organize some search teams.
    â€œCarson, get a trace put on Miss Berger’s phone.”
    Carson headed to the door to place the order.
    Jean-Paul rubbed his hands up and down Britta’s arms. “If he calls again, keep him talking. The longer he