Patricia Rosemoor: Skin

“Help is coming, Caresse. Don’t die,” she pleaded, and then, with her free hand, pulled her cell phone from her pocket and made that call to Pucinski.

MICHAEL TOOK a fast shower and left the bathroom wrapped in a towel. The place was quiet. Too quiet. Fearing that, despite her promise, Lilith had left again, he went straight through the bedroom to the living area.

“Lilith?”

Then he saw the monitor.

The freeze-frame of Hannah.

And the open door.

“Fuck!”

He called her cell, but the call went straight to voice mail.

“Come on, Lilith. Where are you?”

LILITH PACED the corridor of the emergency room, waiting to hear about Caresse. She couldn’t get rid of the picture in her mind of Caresse covered in her own blood. It was a snapshot that would be burned in her brain forever.

The ambulance had arrived two minutes after she’d made the call. Detective Pucinski was with Caresse now, wanting to get a statement when the medical team brought her around.

If they brought her around.

What if they didn’t?

What if Caresse didn’t survive?

Let her be all right. She didn’t know if anyone was listening, but she hoped so. No one deserved to die like that.

She took a seat in the waiting area and sat frozen, her mind going in circles. She’d left Michael’s place after thinking he could be the killer. But she’d been with him when Caresse had been knifed, so he’d had nothing to do with that. And how likely was it that two killers stalked the same club? She didn’t believe in coincidence. At least she was relieved that she’d been correct about Michael in the first place. His only crime had been to keep what he knew about Hannah and her to himself.

So who had knifed Caresse? And why?

Had the dancer seen or overheard something that could shed light on The Hunter Case? Did the killer decide to keep Caresse from talking? If so, no doubt he believed he’d left her for dead.

Which made her wonder whether Hannah and Carmen were still alive.

Just when she thought she couldn’t stand waiting another minute without some kind of information, Pucinski came down the corridor looking for her. Lilith jumped out of her seat and met him halfway.

“Did she make it?”

He nodded. “The surgery went okay. She’s not awake yet, but they say she’s gonna live.”

“Thank God.” Relief eased the tension in Lilith’s body — she’d been strung tight since finding Caresse. “Who could have done this to her?”

“The same psycho who took your sister.”

“I thought so, too. If that’s true, not Michael, then. I was with him.”

“I assume you mean Wyndham.” When she nodded, he said, “She must have been closing in for the bust, and the killer must’ve figured it out.”

“Bust?” Confused, Lilith asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Arresting the bastard. She’s been working the club since the second murder. Got all torn up because she didn’t get to him before he got to your sister.”

“Wait. You’re saying that Caresse was the undercover cop?” When he nodded in agreement, Lilith’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh, my God.” Stunned, she asked, “What about Gabe O’Malley? He’s been at the club every night.”

“Not on the job, he hasn’t. He’s been assigned to a paperwork detail for the last three months. Got benched after working over a perp.”

Her mind already churning, Lilith backed off. “If Caresse wakes up, tell her I’m pulling for her.”

“Hey, wait a minute!”

But she couldn’t wait. She ignored him and raced out of the hospital.

Why had Gabe made her believe he was working undercover if he wasn’t? She had to find out if she’d missed the obvious right under her nose. If Gabe was the one. She had to be sure this time. She’d been ready to tell Gabe that Michael could be guilty, and she’d been wrong.

She couldn’t accuse another innocent man.

MICHAEL CHECKED Hannah’s place. No Lilith. She wasn’t at the club, either. Joe told him about Caresse, how Lilith had found her.

His stomach as heavy as if he’d ingested a ton of lead, he headed straight for the hospital emergency room. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out what Lilith had been up to. He’d known she was Hannah’s sister from the start. And he’d checked her out after she’d started working at the club. He’d known she was trying to draw out the killer. He’d admired that. And he’d known the danger she was drawing to herself.

The more he’d gotten to know Lilith, the more he’d admired her. He’d never before met a woman with such conviction. A woman who was so brave. The more he’d gotten to know her, the less he’d liked what she was doing. He’d tried to talk her out of it, had tried to convince her to quit the club.

He’d be damned if he didn’t try again.

She might not want to listen to him after seeing the interview with her sister, but he was going to tell her everything she wanted to know. And then he was going to try to talk her into leaving the investigation to the police.

Finally in the ER, he went straight to the desk. “I’m looking for Lilith Mitchell. She’s a friend of the woman from Club Paradise who was knifed. Caresse something.”

“Her name is Carrie Walker.” This from a crusty-looking man in a rumpled suit. He’d been talking to a nurse. Now he indicated she should go, and he turned his narrow-gazed attention to Michael. “What do you want with Lilith Mitchell?”

“What business is it of yours?”

The man pulled out a leather holder and flipped it open to show his star. “Detective John Pucinski.”

Michael took a deep breath. He wasn’t liking this. Where in the hell was Lilith?

“I’m a friend concerned for her safety.”

“And why would that be?”

“I know why she got a job at the club.” Figuring Pucinski knew, too, Michael added, “I know about her sister.”

“She tell you all this?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter how I know. I’m worried about her. She left my place without telling me, so I went to the club to make sure she was okay. The bartender told me what happened and that she followed the ambulance here.”

“You missed her by less than five minutes. You know she’s been putting herself at risk at that club.”

Michael’s gut churned. “I tried to get her to quit. She wouldn’t listen to me. I can only imagine how desperate she is to find her sister Hannah and some kid named Carmen before it’s too late. She left here. I fear she’s doing something to find them on her own. Something really crazy.”

WHEN LILITH arrived at Gabe’s house, she didn’t see his car anywhere. The house itself was dark inside. Good. She waited in the Jaguar for a few minutes to see if anything would change.

No lights.

No movement.

No car pulling up.

As a matter of fact, no one was on the street.

Closing her eyes for a second, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She had to do this. Had to find out if Gabe had Hannah and Carmen before it was too late. Had to see if there was proof of his crimes somewhere in the house. Then she could call Pucinski and tell him to arrest the bastard.

“I can do this,” she whispered fiercely. “I CAN DO THIS!”

Another breath and she got out of the car. Looking around carefully, she crossed the parkway and the sidewalk and took the gangway to the rear of the house. As she went, she checked the basement windows. No lights. No way in. When she got to the backyard, she stared into the night in every direction to see if anyone else was around. No one she could see.