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I push him away and hurry from the bed, grabbing my robe on the way from the bedroom to the front door and wrapping it around me.
“What’s going on?” Jackson asks as he runs behind me, but I can’t speak.
I have to get to the front stoop.
I yank open the door and gasp when I see that I’m right.
Another envelope.
“Damn it,” he mutters from behind me as I reach down for the photo. “I guess the fun and games are over.”
I sigh, and with the envelope gripped between my thumb and forefinger, walk into the living room.
“It was nice to forget for a little while,” I say with a sigh. “Thanks for giving me that.”
He sits next to me and takes my other hand. “Go ahead.”
I nod once and then pull the photo out of the envelope, feeling nausea roll through me once more.
“Oh, Goddess. I know him.”
“What?” Jackson takes the photo and examines it. “You know this man?”
“Yes. I mean, with the eyes gone, it’s hard to tell for sure, but I’m pretty sure that’s Caleb Browning. He’s part of the coven up in Baton Rouge. Jackson, I know him.”
“We have to call the others,” he says as he looks around frantically for his phone. He finally finds it in the bedroom, and I hear him talking as he pulls on some clothes. “Another picture. She says she knows him. A Caleb Browning? Yeah, we’d appreciate it. See you soon.”
He returns from the bedroom but veers into the kitchen to make some coffee.
“The timestamp,” I mutter, noticing it for the first time. “Jack, this one is just a few minutes after the other one—on the photo I found yesterday.”
“Cash is bringing it,” he informs me. They’re all on their way over.”
“I’d better get dressed.”
I take the offered mug of caffeine from Jack and walk into the bedroom, where I take just a moment to breathe. To remember last night and how wonderful I felt for those few hours when nothing mattered except the man I love.
It was glorious.
The rumpled bed is evidence of that.
I take a bolstering sip of the brew and then get dressed. I’ve just stepped out of the bedroom when the others file into my apartment.
“Well, good morning,” Millie says with a wink. She leans in to whisper in my ear. “There is so much sexual energy flying around this place, it might burn something.”
“It was a fun night,” I reply with a shrug and then laugh when my sister just grins at me.
“Let me see the photo,” Lucien demands, and I pass it over to him.
“You know Caleb better than I do,” I say as he examines it. “Am I wrong?”
“No.” His face is grim as he looks up at me. “You’re not wrong. This is him. I recognize the scar by his mouth.”
“The timestamp on it is just a few minutes after the one from yesterday,” I say as Cash steps forward with the other photo. “This afternoon.”
“Oh, God,” Lucien breathes. “This is Steph. She and Caleb are matched. They’re a couple.”
His eyes meet mine.
“No. Oh, Goddess, no. Why didn’t I show everyone the photo yesterday? I’m so stupid.”
“You didn’t know,” Brielle says and rubs big circles on my back.
“And we can’t change it,” Cash adds. “But maybe we can get to them before Horace kills them.”
“Do we know where they live?” Brielle asks.
“Honey, we can find out in a matter of seconds,” Cash says with a grin and starts tapping on his phone.
“Baton Rouge,” Lucien says, pacing the living room. Caleb and Lucien are friends. They’ve known each other for a long time. “They just moved in together. Into Steph’s house. I don’t know the address.”
“I’ve got it,” Cash announces. “Let’s move.”
“It’s more than an hour away,” Millie reminds us. “Shouldn’t we call in the local authorities?”
“If they’re going to kill themselves,” Cash says, “the authorities won’t listen to me. I’ve run up against nothing but a wall with them on this.”
It’s the longest drive of my life. Lucien’s been trying to call Caleb the entire trip, but the other man doesn’t answer.
Finally, we pull into a driveway, and all of us burst out of the car, hurrying up the front porch with Cash in the lead.
He bangs on the door. “Stephanie? Caleb? I need you to open this door. My name is Cash. I’m with the New Orleans PD, and I need to speak with you.”
More pounding, but no one answers.
“Fuck this,” Lucien growls. “Open the goddamn door.”
Cash breaks it open, and we rush inside, then stop cold at the scene before us.
“No one move,” Cash says quietly.
“Make it stop.” Caleb is systematically peeling off Stephanie’s skin. The woman is clearly already dead. He’s weeping, his face contorted in pain, his expression tortured. “Get him out of my head. I can’t stop. Oh, God.”
