Inside His Car (A Lucy Crimson Suspense Thriller--Book 4) E-Book

Kate Bold

• Herausgeber: Lukeman Literary Management
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: A Lucy Crimson Suspense Thriller
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 257

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

"This is an excellent book… When you start reading, be sure you don't have to wake up early!" —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Dr. Lucy Crimson, criminal psychology professor, former BAU agent, has unmatched brilliance and expertise into the mind of serial killers, and is the one person the FBI turns to when they need help. But when a new killer targets her, matching her brilliance, the race is on to solve the cryptic clues before she may end up as the next victim… When colleagues from her past begin dying in a sequence of brutal murders, Lucy Crimson finds herself entangled in a deadly academic mystery. As the killer's cryptic messages point to Lucy as the ultimate connection, she must use her expertise to catch a murderer who's always one step ahead—before she becomes the final victim. Book #4 in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, whose bestsellers have received over 3,00 five star ratings and reviews. The LUCY CRIMSON series is a heart-pounding page turner, packed with action, suspense and mystery that will compel you late into the night as you try to unravel the clues. Fans of Kendra Elliot, Teresa Driscoll, and Lee Child are sure to fall in love. Future books in the series are also available! "This book moved very fast and every page was exciting. Plenty of dialogue, you absolutely love the characters, and you were rooting for the good guy throughout the whole story… I look forward to reading the next in the series." —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Kate did an amazing job on this book and I was hooked from the first chapter!" —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "I really enjoyed this book. The characters were authentic, and I see the bad guys as something we hear about daily on the news... Looking forward to book 2." —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "This was a really good book. The main characters were real, flawed and human. The story went along quickly and wasn't mired in too many unnecessary details. I really enjoyed it." —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Alexa Chase is headstrong, impatient, but most of all brave with a capital B. She never, repeat never, backs down until the bad guys are put where they belong. Clearly five stars!" —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done." —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well." —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Page turner for sure. Great characters and relationships. I got into the middle of this story and couldn't put it down. Looking forward to more from Kate Bold." —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book." —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Extremely well written, and well worth buying and reading. I can't wait to read book two!" —Reader review for The Killing Game ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Leseprobe

I N S I D E

H I S

C A R

(A Lucy Crimson Mystery—Book 4)

K a t e   B o l d

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is the author of numerous series in the mystery and thriller genres, including Meg Thorne, Heather King, Brynn Justice, Beth Drake, Maggie Flight, Addison Shine, Barren Pines, Nina Veil, Nora Price, Kelsey Hawk, Alexa Chase, Ashley Hope, Camille Grace, Harley Cole, Kaylie Brooks, Eve Hope, Dylan First, Lauren Lamb series.

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

SERIES BY KATE BOLD

MEG THORNE

HEATHER KING

BRYNN JUSTICE

BETH DRAKE

MAGGIE FLIGHT

ADDISON SHINE

BARREN PINES

NINA VEIL

NORA PRICE

KELSEY HAWK

ALEXA CHASE

ASHLEY HOPE

CAMILLE GRACE

HARLEY COLE

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

PROLOGUE

Dr. Marcus Elliot sat at the desk in his office in the university building. He looked up from the papers he was in the middle of grading to the clock on the wall, seeing that it was well past ten pm. He had begun the grading session, expecting to be done a lot earlier, but as he looked back down at the stack on his desk, he knew he would be there for some time, still.

He picked up his phone and sent another text to his wife: Still at it. Through the worst of it. Don't wait up if you are tired. I know you have an early start.

Marcus moved the marked paper from the diminishing stack and started on the next. He was almost through the first paragraph when he heard footsteps from outside his office. He stilled his body and cocked his head, listening intently, and he heard them again. Someone was approaching. Then, the footsteps stopped. The silence became complete once more.

Marcus was pulled from his chair as if by an invisible thread, and he went straight to the door and opened it. The corridor on the other side of the door was empty. He looked at the wall on the opposite side of the hallway to his door, then poked his head out to look up and down the corridor.

The dim lights that illuminated the hallways through the night in lieu of the full lights that were on during the day made the corridors more gloomy and shadowy, but that still gave no place to hide. There was no one there. Along with the complete silence was complete emptiness.

"Hello?" Marcus asked into the dimness.

No answer was forthcoming.

Marcus waited just outside his office, looking up and down the hall for any movement, listening for the footsteps again, but he came up empty-handed. The professor rubbed his forehead, wondering if he should call it a night and get some rest before he imagined more than just footsteps.

He shook his head and, went back into his office, and closed the door. Marcus returned to his desk and sat down, going back to his papers. No sooner had he done that than he heard the footsteps again, but before he had a similar notion of going to the door to check if they were really there, a knock came at the door.

Marcus was sure he’d heard the knock, but he was a little hesitant about getting up again to check.

The knock came a second time, a soft rapping on the other side of the door.

Marcus got up from his chair and went back to the door, opening it slowly, expecting to find the space behind it empty. It was not empty this time—he recognized the person who’d come to visit him.

"Hi," Marcus said.

"Good evening, Professor. I’m sorry to call on you so late. Am I interrupting anything?"

"I was grading papers," Marcus replied. "I might be done for the night, so the interruption is a welcome one. Would you like to come in?"

"I would love to."

Marcus noticed the gift-wrapped box in his visitor’s hands and looked at it for a moment before locking eyes again.

"I brought this for you, Professor."

"Oh, my," Marcus said. "You didn't need to do that?"

"No, I did. You deserve this. Please."

Marcus took the box from the visitor. It was heavy in his hands, much heavier than he expected it to be at first glance. He lifted the box up and down, perplexed about what might be inside and why his visitor had come bearing a gift. He took the box to his desk while his visitor closed the door.

The box was square, roughly four inches wide, long, and deep, a perfect cube. The box was covered in purple gift wrap, and a ribbon wound its way around all six faces, coming together at the top, tied into a bow.

Marcus took the ends of the ribbon, one in each hand, and pulled on them gently. The bow became untied, and the ribbons floated to the side of the box. The top flaps of the box were secured together with tape, and the tape came apart when Marcus pulled the cardboard upwards. He did the same with the two flaps below, opening the box and revealing the present within.

Marcus frowned as he picked up the stone knife within. The knife was not ornate or special in any way. It didn't look old. He immediately assessed that someone had taken a rock in the shape of a dagger, five inches in length, and carved it to resemble a knife. He touched a finger to the blade. It was ragged, but reasonably sharp.

The professor turned back to his guest, holding the stone dagger. "I don't understand."

"Allow me," the visitor said, approaching the desk. They took the stone knife from Professor Elliot and gripped it tightly by the handle. "This is why I brought this today. I want to show you one last thing before you die."

CHAPTER ONE

Professor Lucy Crimson was putting the finishing touches on the restored hardwood floor of her Victorian home’s library, or, as she’d become used to calling it, the parlor. All of the books had been moved out previously, the hardwood floor had been sanded down with an electric sander that had left her feeling vibrations in her arms for days, even if Sam, the special agent from the FBI that she'd worked with to solve three previous cases, had done the bulk of the work, and then stained with a light stain to keep the brightness and openness of the room.

Lucy stood up, arching her back after being bent over for so long. She placed her paintbrush onto the top of the paint can, now ready to be washed with chemical cleaner and then dried. She paced her hands on her hips and surveyed her work. A smile crept to her lips. The parlor was beautiful.

The stain on the floor would darken as it dried. As it was at that moment, the brown floor matched the hue of her hair, not overly dark, and with a hint of chestnut. Lucy stood at a smidge over five feet six—she had a slim figure, not curvy, that helped her to go unnoticed. She was not the type of woman who drew the eye as she passed, but her sharp mind more than made up for that. Some women had looks that drew the gaze, while others had chased down and caught multiple serial killers. Lucy fell into the latter category, a group in which there were not many members. And she still had time to teach forensic psychology at Gates University in Boston, where she lived.

Her pale blue eyes matched the shade of denim dungarees she wore to paint in. She usually wore a combination of a long, plain skirt and blouse, especially when at work, but had taken to wearing overalls, coveralls, and old clothes that were now stained and dirty.

Lucy grabbed the water bottle sitting on the floor just outside the doorway and took a drink to quench her thirst. She didn't want to stand close to the room for too long—the fumes from the stain were beginning to make her lightheaded.

Lucy closed her eyes, and an image of her sister flashed into her mind. Emily Crimson was eighteen when she was murdered, and the killer had never been found. Lucy could see her sister, not long before she was found dead and posed, smiling at her from across the street, a hand in the air to wave goodbye. It was not the last time Lucy saw her sister, and she didn’t know where her sister was going, but the memory was strong.

Lucy opened her eyes and stepped back from the room before the fumes affected her more. She reached into her pocket and took out the note that had been sent a week ago, a note that she hadn’t shown anyone else. She didn't know why she wanted to keep it for herself. She didn't know where it had come from or if it was real, but she'd been carrying it around in her pocket for the past seven days.

She unfolded the note and smoothed it out, reading it through again even though she knew the entire thing by heart now.

Professor Crimson,

I’ve been watching you and must congratulate you on another solved case. This city and state would be worse off without you. Once again, you have shown that you can do the impossible. You must be very proud of yourself.

Or do you still look back at the past and the murder of your sister, and only feel inadequate when you solve a case, knowing that you couldn’t solve her death? Don't fret, my dear. There will be some time soon when you’ll have that chance. Are you really as brilliant as you believe you are?

Lucy crumpled the note again and placed it back in her pocket. Then, she took out her phone and called Special Agent Sam Spears.

***

Sam frowned as he read the letter, spending a lot of time studying the content. He finally looked up at Lucy. They usually hung out in the parlor, but with the stain still drying on the floor, they had temporarily relocated to the living room. Sam sat in the large leather armchair while Lucy sat on the couch.

Sam Spears was a special agent with the FBI field office in Boston and an ex-Navy SEAL. He was a large man, muscular and powerful when needed. He had straw-blonde hair and eyes the color of the sky on a summer’s day. He was professional when needed, but also quick to smile. He was a genuine, generous, and caring man, and Lucy was developing strong feelings toward him.

"I want them to take a look at the letter at the field office," Sam said.

"Do you think they’ll be able to discover anything?" Lucy asked.

"Maybe," Sam mused. "The letter is handwritten, and we do have some handwriting experts consulting on the books, but it’s not an exact science. I want to say we might get something from the work, but if you’ve looked at it and haven’t gotten anything, then I don't know if we will. You don't recognize anything in the letter, do you? A code, hidden pattern, a message only you would understand?"

"No," Lucy said. "I’ve gone over it and over it, and I can't find anything. It’s so vague that I can't even say if it’s real or not—maybe someone is messing with me who knows about the murder but wasn’t a part of it. It could be all one big joke."

"A big joke," Sam said. "This is not a big joke. How are you doing?"

"I don't know," Lucy admitted. "I’ve been carrying the note around like a weight in my pocket. I should have told you about it sooner."

"We can get to that later," Sam said. "When we’ve looked into this some more, I can chastise you for keeping it to yourself. You haven’t received any others, have you?"

"No, just the one," Lucy said.

"The envelope it was sent in?"

"Here," Lucy said, passing it to him. "There’s no return address on it, not even my address on the envelope. Just my name in the same handwriting as the letter. It must have been hand-delivered."

"If it only has your name on it, then it doesn’t give us anything extra. It’s not like we can trace the envelope or anything like that."

"My sister’s death is going to haunt me forever," Lucy moaned.

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Sam told her. "I’m still going through the old case files."

"And?" Lucy asked.

"Well, still nothing so far,  but I’m not stopping until I find something."

"That’s what I told myself twenty years ago, and I’m still right where I started."

Sam sighed. Lucy looked over at him, willing him to tell her that they would find something and finally solve her sister’s murder, but she knew he couldn’t make any promises like that. Twenty years and multiple detectives had passed, and the case had never progressed. Lucy still held hope, just like her father, but that might be all she ever held. She knew there was a grim chance that she would go to her grave, still clinging to that hope.

"We know that someone is watching you, whether they know what happened to your sister or not, and we have to expect they will make contact again," Sam noted. "I’d feel much better if you weren’t alone here."

"I don't want to have my father come and live with me," Lucy said. "I love him, but I can't live with him. He’s not been the same since Mom died, and I don't think I can cope with having him around twenty-four-seven."

"I’m not talking about your father," Sam said.

Lucy looked over at Sam again and saw the way he was looking at her.

"Oh," she said. "Like a temporary thing?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and I’m not getting any younger. We’ve mentioned it a couple of times."

"Yeah, but not seriously."

"I know," Sam agreed. "I know you like things as they are, but it would give us a chance to try it out, and I could be here to protect you."

"I do like what we have together, and I don't want to ruin that," Lucy said. "I think that was the problem with James. I rushed into things far too quickly with him, and we got married before we even knew each other."

"I won’t ever treat you like that," Sam said. "I won't ever cheat like he did. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do," Lucy said. "It’s nothing to do with you, Sam. I just don't want to ruin what we have together. Everything has been great, and I want it to stay that way."

"I do, too," Sam replied. "This is the best relationship I’ve ever had, and I have the bonus of getting to work with you, too. I won't pressure you into anything, but think about it, okay?"

"I will."  Lucy smiled at Sam. "I’m sorry that I can't commit fully to you. It’s just…"

"I understand," Sam replied. "I mean, maybe I don't fully understand, but I respect your decision. I would move in with you in an instant, but if that jeopardizes what we have, then it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. I’m in this for the long term."

"I know. I am, too," Lucy admitted. "It shouldn’t be this difficult when it’s so easy with you. I don't mean you’re difficult, I mean me. You’ve been so good to me, and—"

"You’re not difficult," Sam interrupted. "We’re all different, and our relationship is different. That doesn't mean it’s bad or difficult. I’d like to move in with you, but if we can't do it right now, then big whoop."

"Big whoop?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah, big whoop," Sam repeated. "So, we don't move in yet. We will in the future, and I can wait."

"You said you weren’t getting any younger," Lucy pointed out.

"I’m not, but I’m not planning on going anywhere just yet. I’m freshly into my forties, but I have a lot of time left. We both do, and I hope to spend a lot of that time with you."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Lucy replied. "And thanks for taking a look at the note and for all of your help with my sister’s investigation. That might be a dead end, but I promise I’m not."

"I’m invested in both," Sam told her.

Lucy smiled again. She wanted to change her mind and run headfirst into her relationship with Sam, tell him to move in, and they could live together, but she wanted to protect what they had created together. And there was some fear. She'd faced some of the worst criminals in the country and almost been murdered by at least one of them, but it was her relationship with Sam that brought fear; she had much more to lose.

"I’ll grab us some beers," Lucy said. "Give me a second."

She got up from the couch and left the living room to go to the kitchen. It was another room that needed more work done to it, but it was coming together. Again, thanks to Sam and all of his help.

Lucy's phone rang when she reached the fridge. She took her phone out of her pocket and saw that Victoria Shaw was calling. Victoria was Lucy's first boss at the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit before Lucy transferred to academia. Victoria, at seventy-two, was not retired but still consulted on cases and often called Lucy for help. The two things that Lucy liked best about her former mentor were how much of a pioneer she was within criminal psychology and that she spoke with the most proper English accent Lucy had ever heard.

Lucy answered the phone with one hand while opening the fridge and grabbing the beers one by one with the other.

"Hi, Victoria," Lucy answered. "Do you have another case you need help with?"

"Marcus is dead," Victoria stated coldly and calmly.

CHAPTER TWO

Lucy sat in her office at the university. She still didn't know why she’d gone in the morning after hearing about Marcus—her head was not in the right place, but she needed something to distract her. Dr. Marcus Elliot had been her colleague two years ago when he’d taught at Gates University. He’d moved to another university, and while he and Lucy had kept in touch, it wasn’t enough now that he was gone.

All she could think about was how she should have called him more, seen him far more than she did over the past two years. She tried to think about the times they had met. It had been two, perhaps three times over the past two years, going for coffee and chatting. It felt like nothing in the deep recesses of her mind.

Now, he was dead, murdered.

A knock came at the open door. Lucy looked up to see the university technician at her door.

"Morning, Professor Crimson," Andy said. "There are some scheduled updates university-wide, and I need to check the software downloaded onto your workstation."

Lucy shook her head and held up a hand. "Can we not do this right now?"

"I won't be a second," Andy said.

"Can you just—" Lucy shouted before stopping herself. "I’m sorry, Andy. I’m not angry at you. I just received some bad news last night, and maybe I shouldn’t have come in today."

"It’s fine," Andy said, a little annoyed at being shouted at. "How about I come back at lunch. I can check some other offices first."

"No, it’s fine," Lucy said. "My mental state shouldn’t affect other people. You’re just doing your job. Do what you need to do, and ignore me. Pretend I’m not even here."

Andy smiled, his dense black mustache lifting briefly. "I’ll be out of your hair in a second, Professor."

Lucy pushed her chair back from the desk to let the technician in. She berated herself for shouting at him, but her mind was frustrated as she thought about who would want to kill Marcus. Part of that frustration was in not knowing enough about him. She'd investigated enough murders to know that there was often a reason, and that reason didn't always rear its head until the case had been investigated.

Lucy was sure someone was on the case, but she desperately wanted to be a part of it if she could help in any way.

Another knock came at the door. Lucy looked up to see James Mitchell, her ex-husband, standing in the doorway. He worked in an office on the other side of the building from Lucy, a criminal defense lawyer who’d also turned to academia.

"I just heard the news," he said, his mouth twisted into a frown.

"No!" Lucy stated. "I don't want you here, James."

It had not been long since James had told her he still had feelings for her and would do everything in his power to win her back. She didn't want to deal with him at all, especially when her mental state was altered.

"I knew him, too," James said. "I wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

The technician was kneeling at the workstation, and he froze for a moment as Lucy shouted at her ex.

"I don't need you here, James," Lucy said, focusing all of her anger and sadness on him. "If I need you, I’ll come and find you, okay?"

"I’m always here if you need me," James said.

Lucy shook her head and folded her arms across her chest, looking away. She saw James leave after a couple of seconds out of the corner of her eye.

Andy resumed his work, remaining silent for the duration of his task, a total of ninety-seven seconds, and then he left the room. Lucy tried to go back to her workstation, but she couldn’t focus on anything except for Marcus. She didn't know anything other than that he was murdered, but as soon as Sam found anything out about the case, he would share the details.

A third knock at the door had Lucy looking up in expectation, but it still wasn’t Sam. The department chair stood in the doorway.

"What are you doing here, Professor Crimson?" he asked.

"I couldn’t stay home," Lucy replied.

"I’ve had your classes covered for the next two days. You don't need to be in your office."

"I know," Lucy agreed.

"She never did well with authority," an accented voice said from just out of view.

Four different visitors and none of them was Sam.

Victoria Shaw appeared in the doorway a moment later.

"How are you doing, my dear?"

"I really don't know, Victoria," Lucy replied. "Do you know anything else about his death?"

The department chair gave Lucy a tight smile before he left her with Victoria. Victoria Shaw entered the small office and sat on the opposite side of the desk from Lucy. Victoria had grey shoulder-length hair, wrinkles criss-crossing her face, and tight lips that made her look annoyed, even though she rarely was.

"How are you really doing, Lucy?" Victoria asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," Lucy replied.

"I’m old enough that I’ve lost many people over the years—most to natural causes, but not all. When that happens, all I can think about is what I can do about it. I can see that my mentoring has rubbed off in many ways."

"I need to understand it," Lucy said. "I don't want to sit here doing nothing, but it’s the only thing I can do at the moment. Who’d want to murder Marcus?"

"I don't know," Victoria admitted. "I don't know much more than you. I’ve spoken to Caroline, and all she can think about right now is the funeral, but I don't know how long it’ll take for the body to be released. She needs to occupy her mind, and that’s where her focus is right now."

"Do you know when the funeral will be?" Lucy asked.

"I don’t," Victoria replied. "Sooner rather than later, I think."

"I’ll be there, of course, to support her."

"I will, too," Victoria added. "And I’m here to support you in any way I can. Whatever you need, you only need to ask."

"I need to know who killed him and why," Lucy said. "You haven’t gotten any word about how he was killed?"

"We’re both in the dark," Victoria replied.

"Sam is looking into it for me," Lucy said. "He’ll update me when he can, but nothing feels quick enough. I just want to know. Even if I can't help or the murder doesn't make sense, knowing will help."

"One of our traits as humans," Victoria noted. "Even when we’re helpless, knowing gives us some control over the situation, even if we know we can't do anything. Sam is a good man; he’ll help you to get through this."

"He asked me to move in with him last night, right before you called," Lucy admitted. "Or for him to move in with me. I don't know which, we didn't get to discuss that part."

Victoria produced a small smile on her lips as she leaned forward. "Because of my call?"

"No, because of my insecurities and fears," Lucy admitted. I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.

"And Sam?"

"He respects my boundaries," Lucy said.

"Then I was right in my summation: he is a good man," Victoria said. "James never respected your boundaries."

"He still doesn't," Lucy admitted. She didn't want to talk about him any more than that. "Thank you for being here, Victoria. We don't often get the chance to meet face to face, even if we do talk regularly on the phone."

"You’ve been thinking about it, too?" Victoria asked.

"About what?" Lucy questioned.

"About how infrequently you saw Marcus? That was one of my main thoughts when I heard he was dead. I tried to remember when I saw him last, and it was far too long ago. I should have made more of an effort to see him."

"I should have, too," Lucy admitted. "I don't want to make the same mistake with my other friends."

"It’s hard," Victoria admitted. "We only have so much time and energy, and we never see the ones we love nearly enough, and we don't often realize that until it’s too late."

Lucy sighed, inclining her head to the side slightly. "That doesn't mean we shouldn’t try."

Victoria nodded. "We should try, but we are fragile in our humanity. We often measure our successes and failures against ever-shifting yardsticks. When we do better, we believe we are capable of doing even better, and that turns into a cycle where no matter how much we do, we strive for more. At some point, that is unattainable, but we are very good at pushing past that point in the hopes we will find satisfaction and fulfillment."

"You have me pegged," Lucy said.

Victoria smiled. "Not you, but the human psyche. We are all ninety-nine percent alike in how we think and act. The small differences are what make us individuals."

"And that small difference in someone led to the death of Marcus," Lucy said.

Another knock at the door, but this time, it was the one person Lucy had been waiting for. Special Agent Sam Spears stood in the doorway, a wry smile on his lips.

"Sam," Lucy said, smiling in relief.

"Lucy," he said with a nod before looking at Victoria. "Victoria, always a pleasure to see you."

"You, too, Sam," Victoria said. "We’ve just been talking about how good a man you are."

"I don't mind hearing that," Sam said.

Victoria stood. "I should go and leave you two to talk. Lucy, if you need anything, please reach out."

"I will. Thank you," Lucy replied.

Sam moved out of the way to let Victoria out, then he appeared back in the doorway and tapped on the doorframe a few times before entering. He closed the door behind him.

"Did you find out anything?" Lucy asked.

"I did."

Lucy didn't like the way he said the two words. She didn't like the way he looked at her as he entered the office. The one thing she did like was the folder in his hand that she presumed was copies of the case files. When she thought about the things she didn't like, she realized that maybe she wouldn’t like what was inside the folder.

"Is that…?" she asked, nodding toward the files.

"Yeah," Sam said. He sat in the recently vacated chair and placed the folder on the desk before him. "Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not pretty."

"I’ve seen plenty of murder scenes," Lucy reminded him.

"Yeah, but not like this one, and I know Dr. Elliot was a friend."

"I need to do this," Lucy told him.

"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you," Sam replied.

CHAPTER THREE