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“You have no probable cause.”
“Hold on here,” Montana hissed as he closed the distance. “At least three of the murder victims worked for her. I say there is plenty of probable cause for a warrant, if not more.”
Sargent Wallace reared back. “And what about Michael Cavanaugh, the man who not only has pictures of the victims that could only have occurred while participating in a crime and the list with names of the murdered women?”
Grant coughed and shifted from one foot to the other.
“Sir, we have probable cause and that’s enough to give us the warrant needed.” Montana shook his head.
“No, it’s not enough. The press is all over this, let alone the Mayor and now the Governor breathing down my neck. You’re a rogue cop, Detective Givens.” Sargent Wallace reared back. “You leave me with no choice.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Montana demanded.
“That means, detective, that you are being relieved of your duties on this case pending investigation.”
“What the fuck?” Anger boiled in him, bridging the surface.
Grant held out his arm and took a step forward. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”
“No, you haven’t as of yet, Detective Miller, but your partner has by sleeping with a suspect.” Sargent Wallace shot Grant a look before tilting his head toward Montana.
Montana sucked in his breath. How the hell did the Sargent find out? There was only one man who knew he’d slept with her. Furious, he fought lunging toward the Sargent. “The victims were her patients.”
“Exactly. And she should be considered a suspect and not a girlfriend. You’re on leave effective immediately, Detective Givens. I’ll need your badge and gun.”
Blinking several times, Montana bit back the nasty words that would no doubt get him fired. He turned to look at Grant, who’s face bore his guilt of conscious. After a few seconds he jerked out his badge, tossing the shield onto the Sargent’s desk and unsnapped his gun. “This isn’t over and you know it. The killer isn’t done yet. Blood will be on your hands. He held the gun in his hand, gave the Sargent a harsh look and dropped the piece onto his desk before storming out.
No, this wasn’t over and there was only one way of getting the upper hand.
CHAPTER 21
Destiny stood on her back deck, savoring the time alone and thinking about the night before. The warm morning and light breeze cascading across her skin created goose bumps on her arms. Standing in bare feet and a light dress, she tipped her head, savoring the fragrance of wildflowers. She was grateful there were no early clients. She wasn’t certain she could face them. As she sipped on her coffee, she relived the night before. She remained euphoric, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The time spent with Christopher had been enlightening.
She shifted and instantly was reminded of the aggressive discipline. Several of the welts would bruise. She’d wear her marks, his marks, like a badge, not of honor but of ownership. She gasped and pressed her hand over her mouth. Was she really considering the concept? Nothing seemed real any longer, not her profession or her most basic desires. She would drift through the day, contemplating when and if Christopher would arrange to see her again.
The kiss had been amazing, but not what she’d expected. He’d told her, no romance. Then why something so intimate? She brushed the tips of her fingers across her lips and slumped against the railing. What in God’s name was she going to do? Red flags were there, but she was ignoring the most basic warning. Why? Seeing him meant succumbing and he would accelerate her training. What did he want, to collar her? She had no way of knowing, but suspected he was a sadist. The thought was riveting.
Wrinkling her nose, she thought about the call. Whoever was on the other end had rattled the man. While he hadn’t told her anything, not even a hint regarding the conversation, she knew enough about him to gather he was upset, if not angry. Groaning, she took another sip of coffee. He was more of a mystery than before.
She glanced at her watch and walked back inside. The September day was humid with storms predicted for late afternoon. Of all days, she had a late patient coming in and wouldn’t be home until after eight-thirty. She couldn’t help but think about Michael. He needed her help. If only he’d reach out.
The coffee now tasting bitter, she poured the remainder down the sink then heard a knock on the front door. She hesitated before walking down the hallway, fear creating a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. A single form stood behind the frosted glass. “Yes?” she questioned without opening the door.
“Jesus Christ, Destiny. Do you have any idea how many times I called you?”
“Montana?” She unlocked and opened the door, shocked by the look on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean what’s wrong. Did you not see the news this morning?” He pushed his way inside.
She opened her mouth to object then shut the door. “No. I was busy and in no mood for crap on television. Why?”
“Because there’s been another murder.” He turned to face her. “Does the name Maria Sanchez mean anything to you?”
A cold chill swept into her system. She blinked and tried to control her breathing. “She missed an appointment.” Dear God. What the fuck was going on?
“She’s dead, mutilated by a machete. And there’s more.”
“More?” Her voice sounded weak.
