Nash turned as we walked up. There was none of the typical amusement on his face. His brows were pinched, his jaw set hard. “It’s bad.”
I didn’t need his warning to know that. Someone was dead. That was enough.
Yet still, the first sight of the body pulled me up short. The woman was young. In her early or mid-twenties. But there was no life in her, no vitality. Her skin looked almost gray. And her body had been torn to hell. Vicious slash marks and stab wounds. So much rage.
“Luisa,” Lawson said in greeting to the coroner.
She looked up, her tanned skin a shade paler than normal. “Law.”
“Any guesses how long she’s been out here?” he asked.
Luisa’s lips pursed as her gaze traveled back to the body. “It’s colder than normal for this time of year. That muddies things. But I’d guess it’s recent. This afternoon, maybe. I need to check the temps hour by hour for a better estimate. But based on marks on the body, she was killed elsewhere and moved here.”
Lawson nodded, his jaw clenching. “That helps.”
Dr. Miller stood nearby, but his gaze remained focused on the fallen woman and her stab wounds. As though he could stitch them back together with sight alone if he stared hard enough.
“Thanks for coming out, Damien,” Lawson said.
The vet forced his eyes toward my brother. “Of course. These wounds are a little different. Deeper. But there are too many similarities for it to be a coincidence.”
Lawson glanced at Nash and me.
“He’s angrier,” I said. “Maybe he knows the victim?”
Nash pulled an evidence bag out of his pocket. “Got her ID. Marci Peters from Montana.”
I tapped my fingers against the side of my thigh. “I don’t recognize her. Tourist?”
“Most likely,” Lawson agreed. “I’ll have an officer call around to the local hotels and rental companies, see if we can figure out where she was staying.”
“There’s a large lump on the back of her head. Some blood,” Luisa said. “She was struck from behind. Probably unconscious before she hit the ground.”
“Small mercies,” Nash muttered.
I didn’t disagree. At least she hadn’t felt the torture that came afterward.
Lawson stared down at the woman for a moment. “We were right.”
Nash sent him a quizzical look.
“Someone was practicing,” Lawson explained.
My back teeth ground together. “That means they won’t stop here.”
32
ASPEN
The bed dipped, and I jerked upright, coming out of a sound sleep. I reached for the Taser on my nightstand, but a hand clamped around my wrist.
“Just me.”
My entire body sagged at Roan’s voice. “Hell. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
He pulled me against him. “Sorry. Didn’t know you had some of that demon cat in you.”
I frowned in the dark. “Pirate isn’t a demon. She’s just playful.”
“Tell that to my almost decapitated toe.”
“So dramatic.”
Roan nuzzled his face into my neck, breathing deeply.
My body began to come alive, but I shut that shit down fast. “Cady’s down the hall.”
“I know,” he whispered, his voice gruff. “Just need to hold you for a few minutes.”
My hands closed around his arms. “Was it bad?”
“Young woman’s dead. That’s always bad.”
My fingers gripped him harder. “You okay?”
“I’ve got you in my arms.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Roan’s hold tightened around me. “If you’re in my arms, I’m always okay.”
My heart jerked inside my chest. Large neon letters spelling DANGER! flashed in my head. But instead of pulling away like I should have, instead of telling Roan to go back to the couch, I burrowed deeper into his hold.
And let sleep pull me under, feeling safe for the first time in years.
“You had a slumber party without me?”
Cady’s affronted voice had me jerking upright and my eyes going wide. Roan was a little slower on the move, not having years of parental quickness on his side. Kids trained you fast. That first plaintive wail after a nightmare. The first slight gagging noise that said they were about to throw up all over their bed.
But apparently, my reflexes had dulled just enough because I hadn’t heard Cady’s door open, her tiny feet pitter-pattering along the hardwood, or my door opening. She glared at us, hands on her hips. “That’s not fair.”