9

Thirty minutes later I've said a rushed goodbye to Lily and reached the crime scene.

The address would have surprised me if Hawkinshadn'talready named the victim. Most murders we investigate are in the rougher parts of town, but this…

This is a mansion up on the rocky cliffs where only people with millions of dollars to spare can find a house.

Orion Vale.

He is—was—infamous in this city. The tech CEO ofVale,revered by half the population and regarded with suspicion by the other half.I'veheard rumors about his shady business practices, but he must have seriously messed with the wrong person to end up like this.

I snap on white rubber gloves as I stare up at the scene.

Vale'sbody is strung up from the ceiling in thehugeentrance to his home. His hands are tied in place above his head, his forefingers pointing upwards.

Devil horns.

His clothes are soaked inblood,emanating from a wound at the dead center of his chest. His lifeless eyes are wide, as ifhe'sstill in shock. The whole thing looks like a Renaissance oil painting of some Biblical scene.

The grim faces of the cops around me show just how horrifying it is. Ryanis grimacingacross the room, while Brock looks like he might throw up his last meal. But Ican'tseem to process that right now because I can only think of one thing.

It'ssickening and fucked-up, sure.

But I can't deny that it's beautiful.

You'renot supposed to think thatkind of thingwhenyou'rea homicide detective. Some cops feel a grudging respect for criminalswho'veoutsmarted them for years. But Ican'thold back the pure thrillthat'spounding through me.

"Jesus, Brock,"I murmur."Whoever did this is an artist."

Brock adjusts his glasses and shoots me a sidelong glance."Don'tlet Hawkins hear you saying that. I thinkhe'swaiting for you to make another mistake."

I blink, barely having realized I was speaking out loud.

"Sorry," I mumble. "Forget I said anything."

I catch sight of Hawkins on the other side of the room and bound up to him breathlessly."Captain. I came as fast as I could. How can I help?"

"Ah, Cain…" Hawkins looks at me as if he's second-guessing his own decision to call me in.

"Sir?"

"Look,you'restill on thin ice. I value your opinion, so I wanted to get your eyes on this."He lowers his voice."But Idon'tknow if I should let you sign onto any new cases whileyou'restill completing your psychiatric assessment sessions."

"I'mfine,"I say hurriedly."The first session with Dr Keller went great."

He sighs."Idon'tknow, Cain. The pressis going togo crazy over this onesowe'reworking fast.We'vesecured the perimeterandforensics is working on it now. But the surveillance footage is a bust. I could use your help, but it might be too much too soon."

Five minutes in and this is already the most fascinating case I've ever witnessed. High profile, symbolic, bloody. I need to work on it.

"Give me ten minutes, Captain.If Idon'tfind anything useful, thenI'llwillingly step away from the case."

Hawkins' voice is gruff. "Fine. Just… do your thing, Cain."

I nod. I knowexactlywhathewants me to do. Taking a deep breath in, I stare up at the body. My breathing slows as I try to reach a meditative state. Slowly, I feel a wave of total calm wash over me.

In mymind'seye, an image starts to form.I'mseeing the scene through the eyes of the killer.

I walk in through the front entrance ofVale'smansion.

It'sdark outandVale is in front of me. My weapon is pointed at him;he'salready turned off the surveillance system.

What do I feel? Anger. Calm. Pleasure.

My techniqueisn'tmagic. Not anything close to it. But with the little hints I pick up around the scene—a splash of blood here, a scuff on the groundthere—I can piece enough together to make myself see it in mymind'seye.

That's my greatest skill.

I can think like a killer.

I stab him through the heart on the right half of the room. Then I string him up with rope; my hands are encased in black gloves. I position him into place. Blood drips from his body. Then I turn to leave—

No. Not yet.I'vetaken the time to make this beautiful, which means this is a piece of artto me. A piece of art needs theartist'ssignature. Where do I go next?

I walk over to the wall behindVale'sbody—

My revery is cut off by awoman'svoice."Sorry to interrupt you, Detective, butyou'rein my way."

Naomi Lester is the head of our forensics team.She'shad issues with me since we started working together. Idon'tneed to be a detective to figure out why: she thinks tearing down the other few women she works with will favor her in the eyes of our male bosses.

Caught off guard, I snap out of my state of concentration and turn toward her.She'swearing her starchy white lab coat, her blonde hairpulled backin a tight bun.

"Sorry, Naomi."My voice is polite, but I can feel irritation rising in me.

"Should you even be here right now, Cain?"She drops her voice to a whisper."I heard Hawkins sent you to a psych guy because you went totally crazy on a perp.I'msurprisedyou'reeven allowed to be here."

I feel annoyance tick through me, but I try to stay calm. Arguing with Naomi will only get me in more trouble with Hawkins."I'mfine. My sessions are just a formality."

Hawkins interrupts the conversation just in time to stop me from saying somethingto Naomi thatI'dregret.

"Cain, Lester. What are your preliminary assessments?"

Naomi perks up."I'veordered a full biological analysis of the victim and tasked my team with reviewing the rest of the scene.We"recurrently examining the trace evidence for any potential insights.I'destimate the time of death at around 4am this morning."

Hawkins nods and Naomi shoots me a smug look. "Thank you, Lester. What's your gut telling you?"

"We'veall heard the rumors about how Vale treated his staff. I suspect this willturn out tobe a disgruntled employee who wanted revenge on his boss."

"The evidence disagrees with you,"I mutter before I can stop myself.

Hawkins raises his eyebrows."Go on, Cain."

Art needs an artist's signature.

I walk over to the wall directly behind where Vale is suspended.There'sa large canvas hanging there. Idon'tknow the first thing about art, butit'san abstract in neon colors. I lift it up where it hangs, conscious thatI'mholdinga six-figure dollar amount. I peer behind the canvas.

My hunch wasright; thank god, becauseif ithadn'tthenNaomi would have never let me forget it.

It'sa foldednote,tucked into the back of the canvas. A thrill runs down my spine.

I gingerly pull it out by its edges and read the scrawl of black ink aloud.

My stomach flips. "Hello, detectives."

Underneath the message are four more letters.

HYDE.

What does that mean? If this is his signature, is that his name? A shiver runs over my skin.

Hawkins exhales. "Jesus."

I hold up the note."Thisisn'tsome pissed-off tech geek who wanted to teach Vale a lesson. This is something much bigger than that."

Naomi narrows her eyes at me."How did you know that was there?"

"Ispotted afleckof blood on the frame. This place is pathologically tidy, but the painting was slightly askew. Plus, I justgot the feelingthat the killer wants to play a game with us."

I turn to Hawkins. The team would have found the note eventually without me, but I hope my speeding up the process is enough to convince him."Socan I work on the case, Captain?"

Hawkins sighs."Damn it, Cain. Fine.You'rein. Butyou'renot taking on any other new cases forthe time being."

Hell yes. Ican'tstop myself from grinning.

He turns to Naomi."Lester, get a full forensic analysis on the note."She gives an annoyed nod before stalking off.

He waits untilshe'sout of earshot to continue."I'mreceiving check-ins about your progress until Dr Keller has cleared you. Idon'twant to get shit from my bosses about keeping you on."

"Thank you, Captain. I promise youwon'tregret this."

I intend to keep that promise. I want to be the one to take this killer down.

Butit'snot just because I think the killer needs to be stopped.

It'sthatsuddenlyeverycell in my body is longing to meet the person who did this.