Page 4 of Fatal Pattern

She exhaled, taking a few seconds to create professional distance. “Male, late twenties to early thirties. Comfortable with weapons.”

“That narrows it down to about half the men in Florida,” Blade muttered.

“He’s also controlled. Educated. Narcissistic, with delusions of grandeur,” she continued. “He sees this as a game between us. He’s not just stalking me, he’s on a mission only he understands.”

“A mission for what?”

She stared at the road ahead. The sun began to peek over the horizon, casting long shadows across the asphalt. “That’s what I need to figure out.”

Blade pulled into a drive-through and ordered his usual coffee and sausage biscuit. Tori asked for a double Americano, extra cream.

“You want anything to eat?”

“Nah.” Her stomach churned at the thought of food. Food meant chewing. Swallowing. Basic functions that required her throat to work normally.

Blade paid and pulled back onto the highway. “So, you want to tell me what really happened back there? Because I know you. You’re a third-degree black belt. You teach self-defense classes. There’s no way this guy got the drop on you unless you let him.”

The question she’d been dreading. The car suddenly felt ten degrees warmer. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you weren’t fighting back. Not really.” His eyes flicked to her, then back to the road. “Why?”

For a moment, she considered deflecting, making a joke, changing the subject. But this was Blade. He deserved honesty, even if it made her sound crazy.

“I needed to understand him,” she admitted. “I needed to hear his voice, feel his presence, gauge his confidence.”

“You risked your life for a psychological assessment?”

“I took a calculated risk.” She sipped her coffee. “And now I know things about him I didn’t before. He’s escalated and injured me. Things the police can’t ignore.”

Blade shot her a look that was half concern, half grudging amusement. “You really are something else, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” She leaned back in her seat, trying to ignore the phantom sensation of cold steel against her skin and the whispered promise of more to come.

“Should I be worried about you?”

“Remember when I ankle-picked you at the gym last month? I think I can handle myself, chico.”

Blade laughed, and she felt her smile reach her eyes this time. “Now quit driving like a Florida snowbird. We’ve got a killer to interview, and it would be rude to keep him waiting.”

He shook his head. “One of these days, Dr. Crew, your curiosity is going to get you killed.”

“Maybe.” She smiled again. “But not today. Today, the only thing that matters is what Damien Sullivan knows about my parents’ murder. And not even a knife-wielding stalker will keep me from hearing what he has to say.”

2

The highway stretched ahead, four lanes of asphalt cutting through Florida scrubland toward Union Correctional. Blade kept the speedometer steady at seventy-five, watching the landscape shift from coastal palms to inland pines. Each mile took them closer to Damien Sullivan’s cell, where the man spent twenty-three hours a day in protective custody, holding secrets that might finally give Tori answers about her parents’ murder.

Blade had argued with himself for days about whether to make this trip. Tori insisted she didn’t need a babysitter, that interviewing dangerous inmates was part of her job. But something about Damien Sullivan set his teeth on edge.

Blade glanced over at Tori, who sat with her laptop balanced on her knees, fingers flying across the keyboard. She’d caught her lower lip between her teeth, a habit she did whenever she concentrated. The Band-Aid on her neck showed a pinprick of fresh blood seeping through the center.

What would have happened if he hadn’t shown up when he did? That maniac had a knife to her throat, and she’d stood there analyzing him like he was a case study instead of a predator who could have killed her.

“Eyes on the road, Detective,” Tori said without looking up from her screen.

“I am watching the road.”

“You’ve glanced over here six times in the last five seconds.” She looked up, eyebrow raised. “Something on your mind?”