CJ looked painfully young and vulnerable this morning. The bandage on her throat reminded him of the crazed addict from the clinic. That she could have been killed for a handful of pain pills made him sick to his stomach. Reminded him of another victim who hadn’t been so lucky.
CJ’s hair was tucked into a ponytail, and the jeans and tee were seriously tighter-fitting than the clothes she generally wore. Not at all like the highly educated, conservative doctor.
Evidently she noticed his preoccupation with the way the tee hugged her breasts.
“I ran out of clothes.” She rubbed at her forehead. “When I was preparing to come here I just threw a couple of things in a bag.” She hugged herself tighter. “These are Shelley’s.”
He’d thought as much.
“There’s something you should know,” he said to preface the news. Though he was certain she had no warm, fuzzy feelings for Banks, she had known him for years. And he was her number one suspect in her sister’s murder.
Big blue eyes peered up at him. “Did you hear from the ME on Shelley’s case?”
Braddock shook his head. “There was another murder last night.”
Her face paled.
“Ricky Banks.”
She stared at him for a long moment before she reacted. Her expression blanked of emotion, and she seemed to have trouble gathering her thoughts. “How?” She shook her head. “I mean ... yes. How was he ... murdered?”
“He was secured to the floor in his home and his dog tore out a couple of essential arteries.”
Her face pinched in horror. “Satan killed him?”
“We have reason to believe the animal was provoked into a frenzy.” Between his owner’s starvation tactics and the killer’s bait, that was a damned solid conclusion. “Then let loose on Banks.”
CJ dropped her head back on the sofa. “What does this do to Shelley’s case?” She lifted her gaze to Braddock’s once more. “I don’t mean to be unsympathetic, but does this mean he didn’t kill Shelley, or is this even relevant to her case?”
“I can’t answer that question yet. There are elements that are similar, indicating we could be dealing with the same perp. But it’s too early to say for sure.”
“It has to be Tyrone.” Fury compressed her lips into a thin line. “He’s insane like this.” Her eyes widened with concern. “Do you think the blood was ...?”
“That the blood on your bed came from Banks?” He shrugged. “That’s a possibility. We can’t be sure yet.”
Her breath caught. “Oh God.” Her hand went over her mouth.
“What?” He moved from the sofa to the coffee table, directly in front of her.
“That girl.” She searched his eyes, hers filled with remorse. “Celeste. She said more than any of the others. What if Tyrone—”
“Don’t even think about it.” He took her hands in his. “Listen to me, CJ. I know you grew up here, but you’ve never been a part of this life. Not really. You escaped—”
“That’s what Ricky said.” She looked away, bit down on her bottom lip.
He tightened his grip on her hands. “These girls, like Celeste, Nash feeds off them. Uses them until he’s finished and there’s nothing left but a burned-out shell. Maybe your questions prompted his taking action against Celeste—”
Her face fell; pain glittered in her eyes.
“But the reality of it is, this kind of thing is inevitable when you’re a part of Nash’s world.” That wouldn’t make her feel better, any more than it did him.
“If he hurt her, it’s my fault.” She shook her head. “You didn’t see her. Beaten and bruised. Too thin. All Tyrone’sfoot soldiersare like that. It’s sick. Just sick.”
“Nash’s standard operating procedure. Until he’s stopped, that and more will continue.”
“He has to be stopped.”
“He does.” He stared at their hands. Had forgotten he was holding hers. Evidently she’d only just noticed as well. She pulled her hands free of his. “But not by you. This”—he jerked his head toward her stairs—“was a second warning. You can’t keep digging around in Nash’s business.”
