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“I wanted to let you know what we found last night in Driscoll’s backyard,” she said.
She stopped talking, as if waiting for him to comment, but Sam could hear Laura’s voice in his head, warning him. So he kept his mouth shut.
Finally, she went on. “We found a number of hard drives. They contained videos.”
Now Sam could hear Veronica Gadd’s voice in his mind. Oh my God. What was on them? Please say it wasn’t kiddie porn. Please.
“What kind?” he asked, unable to keep the dread from his voice.
“Like this.” Kit handed him her phone on which a video was cued to begin.
Sam glanced at Detective Robinson. His eyes were suspicious and... waiting. Sam got the impression that this was a test of some kind.
Call Laura! Make them either arrest you or leave.
But he didn’t. Because part of him still trusted Kit McKittrick.
I’ll probably regret that later, he thought as he hit play, aware that both detectives were watching him like hawks.
This was not going to be good.
It started with a living room he’d never seen before, decorated in soft blues and grays. Broadway musical posters covered the visible walls. The camera was focused on the back of a leather sofa.
Then a man came into the room. Colton Driscoll. And then...
“Oh God,” Sam whispered. Because Naomi Beckham had been lying on that sofa. And now she was being murdered. By Colton. With a necktie.
Memories came flooding back, filling his mind with the images that only came out in his worst nightmares. Because he’d already seen something like this before. It had ended in death.
Just as it was ending in death for Naomi, who was fighting Colton, but slowly. Weakly.
Colton smiled when her body had gone limp.
“Dr.Reeves? Dr.Reeves? Sam?”
He looked up to find both detectives staring at him. Kit had leaned forward, her hand outstretched. Like she was about to shake him but had hesitated. Numbly, he wondered how many times she’d called his name.
“Why?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Why did you make me watch this?”
He’d never be able to unsee this. Never. He knew that from experience.
This was what had happened to all those poor girls. It had happened to Skyler.
It had happened to his Marley.
He dropped the phone on Joel’s carpet and ran to the bathroom, throwing up everything he’d eaten that morning.
When his stomach was empty, he hung over the toilet. Shaking.
And angry.
With Colton for being a sadistic monster who really had killed those girls.
With Kit for tormenting him this way.
With his own mind for holding so tightly to the memories he wished he could forget.
“Sam?” Kit said quietly from the doorway.
