Page 39 of Deathtoll

“Thanks.” The captain drew Ian toward the door. “Let’s go.” He paused only to call back over his shoulder to Kate and Murph. “I’m going to need both of you down at the station at one point today to give statements.”

Kate said, “Of course.”

Murph stepped after the man. “My gun?”

“You’ll get it back at the station. After we have a talk.”

The only thing that kept Murph from responding with words he might regret later was Kate in his peripheral vision collapsing into her chair.

He let the captain go and stepped back into her office.

“How did you get into the treatment room?” Kate asked. “Did you climb the wall?”

“Couldn’t think of anything else. I was waiting in there for the right moment. I thought he had a gun. I had about three heart attacks listening to you talk him down. Good job on that, by the way.” She was smart, and brave, and excellent at her job. Of course, he was in love with her. “If you ever need a side gig, you can take up hostage negotiation.”

“I’ll pass,” she told him. “You gavemea heart attack, busting out like that. I thought you were in the hallway. I was trying to get him out there.” She shook her head. “He didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“The mental state he was in, he might have done something without meaning to.”

If this had happened three months ago, she would be in his arms right now, Murph thought, resenting every inch of distance between them.

They’d had a scare, but it was over, and she was safe. With all the adrenaline coursing through him still, he wanted to celebrate. In the most primal way. On her desk. Or on her massage table. It was available.

Except, he knew what she’d say if he suggested that. It started with an N, and ended with an O.

At least she was almost smiling and not sending him away. And, most importantly, she was all right.Unhurt.The only thing that mattered.

Because he wasn’t ready to leave just yet, he said, “We’ve gone all year without an incident, and now two in one week. Maybe we should hire security.”

“We can’t put guards at the door.” Not a trace of uncertainty in her voice. “This is a treatment facility. Armed men in uniforms would trigger some of the patients. I don’t want Hope Hill to look like a prison camp.”

They’d had this discussion before, and the last thing Murph wanted right then was to fight with her. “Okay. You’re right.”

But from now on, the receptionists would be veterans, carrying concealed. He was going to break that to her later. No way in hell was he going to allow her, or any of the staff or patients, to be in danger.

She was doing her yoga breathing, so he knew she was still shaken. He would have given anything if she just walked into his arms for comfort. She didn’t.

“Thank you. For all of it,” she said instead.

“Even if I knocked him to the ground?”

“Even so. Although, that was absolutely unnecessary.”

Not when Murph had thought the guy had a weapon. He’d never been happier to be wrong in his life.

“Why did you come by?” Kate tilted her head. “Earlier, when you knocked.” She was back in business mode, calm, or doing a damn good job faking it. “Did you need to talk to me about anything?”

Earlierwas a lifetime ago. “Just wanted to check in.”

It wasn’t the right time to tell her that her neighbor might have been murdered.

Chapter Fourteen

Asael

Asael sat in the center of the middle pew at Betty Gardner’s memorial service—like a spider in his web—watching the mourners and unsure why. He was not in the habit of attending the funerals of his victims. Amateurs did that. The cops were always around, hoping to nab the killer. Not a fate Asael anticipated for himself, since he was certainly not an amateur. He was a master.

Stupid cops didn’t even know there’d been a murder.