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No ruse, no trickery, no thin stories to gain access. Just him and her and the garrote. It started off fine. Perfect, actually.

Then everything went wrong.

Alone in his bedroom the next day, he replayed every second. He had no choice but to stop now. It was over except for the ugly, vicious thing that lived in his chest, and her.

There was still the matter of her.

Maybe one day. For now he had to stop. It was self-preservation, pure and simple. He would just have to find other ways to feed that vile part of him. Maybe he didn’t need to kill to do that.

For now.

Forty-Four

The next hour was a blur. Security had locked down the building once the Code Silver was called. No one was allowed in or out except for law enforcement. The elevators were restricted. Ambulances were diverted to the next closest hospital. Uniformed Denton PD officers flooded the place. Every single person in the emergency department—patient, staff, visitor and even the security staff—was interviewed, their names logged for the police file. Turner pushed Josie and her IV pole around with him, barking orders, until he found a staff area that could only be accessed via an employee badge. Conlen was stationed outside the door as an extra precaution while Turner flagged down a nurse to draw Josie’s blood so that it could be tested to determine if the killer had drugged her. Afterward, she removed Josie’s IV, allowing her to move more freely. Hummel arrived minutes later. He took copious photos before swabbing her lips. She was in the bathroom, scrubbing the lipstick away when Conlen let Noah in.

“Josie?”

She walked out of the bathroom. Her legs were steadier now that her colleagues were here and the hospital was locked down. Noah lunged for her, arms open and ready to sweep her up. At the last minute he stopped, taking in the sling. Instead, he cupped her cheeks in his palms and rested his forehead against hers. His breath was short and choppy. Josie placed her good hand on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat.

“I’m fine,” she told him.

“That’s what you say when you’re not fine,” Noah said quietly.

“Fine. I’m not fine. My shoulder is sore. I’m exhausted and really, really fucking pissed off. Who’s with Wren?”

“Your parents.” His palms warmed her face. “They’re taking her to that exhibit at the Susquehanna Art Museum today. I told her you fell last night and dislocated your shoulder but I didn’t tell her anything when Turner called me. Just that I got called in. I didn’t know what the hell was going on anyway. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I was trying to call dispatch first,” she whispered, rolling her forehead against his. “I accidentally hit Douchebag. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Noah kissed her forehead and with a sigh, drew her into a careful hug. “The Chief’s here. Going scorched earth, as you can imagine. Him and Gretchen are with security reviewing all the footage from when you arrived until they went into lockdown.”

“I want to see,” she said.

Noah knew better than to try to convince her to rest. Taking her good hand, he guided her through several hallways until they came to a heavy, unmarked door. A quick text to Gretchen got them access. Chief Chitwood stopped pacing when Josie entered the CCTV control room.

“Quinn,” he barked. “You look like dog shit. You need to rest. Ice up that shoulder. You need to go home. Go the hell home!”

“I was waiting for another X-ray when this happened,” she said. “They wouldn’t discharge me without it.”

“Then someone needs to get you an X-ray!”

“Chief,” said Noah. “It’s a Code Silver.”

“So? Don’t they have portable X-ray machines?”

“Not here,” Josie said.

“What the hell kind of show are they running in this place?” the Chief complained loudly. “Somebody get me a doctor. Anyone in charge of shit. Right now!”

The two security officers seated in front of the bank of cameras exchanged bewildered looks.

Gretchen said, “We need them to take us through the rest of the footage.”

“I’m fine,” Josie said before the Chief could go off again. “There are other patients here who need more attention than I do. The X-ray can wait.”

The Chief scowled but didn’t argue. Instead, he rolled an office chair over to where Gretchen sat between the two security guys and beckoned Josie. “If you insist on being in here instead of resting, you need to sit your ass in this chair.”

She wasn’t about to argue. The throbbing in her shoulder had returned, though nowhere near the intensity of earlier. Worse was the pounding in her head that had started when Hummel took samples of the lipstick from her mouth. She could use more painkillers, but she’d be damned if she took more than an ibuprofen—maybe ever. Even though she knew she was safe now, the thought of falling into a sleep so deep that a killer could put lipstick on her without waking her made her shudder. Noah must have noticed because his hand found her good shoulder and stayed there, warm and reassuring.