Prologue
“Ciao, bella.”
Lacey looked over with a blush as she walked towards her car. She couldn’t help it. He was so damn hot. Every morning, he jogged by her place. Sometimes, she stood in the window of her apartment and just stared at him. Sweat coated his lean, muscled body. He was deeply tanned, with black hair that spoke of Italian heritage, although she wasn’t entirely convinced the accent was genuine. Not that it mattered. He was only a fantasy she indulged in; he’d never be her reality.
Still, it was a boost to her confidence each morning when he called her beautiful, even though she was certain he called every woman bella. She sighed as he jogged out of sight. She wouldn’t even know what to do with a man like that in her bed. She wasn’t exactly experienced, and her one long-term boyfriend had cheated on her, claiming she hadn’t spent enough time with him and he was neglected.
She snorted. As her cousin Travis had said, he was a real dick.
Exhaustion pulled at her, and she closed her eyes for a minute. The Latin Lothario case was really draining her. Six women dead. It was horrifying.
She opened her eyes again and moved to her car, frowning as she saw a brown envelope resting under the window wiper. She pulled it out then unlocked her car and climbed in, studying the envelope. There was no name. No return address. Nothing.
Odd.
She opened the unsealed envelope.
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Your lover is watching.
He’s waiting for you.
Oh, God. Oh, fuck.
She’d just been targeted as the next victim.
The Latin Lothario was coming for her next.
Chapter One
She was a failure.
Lacey gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her teeth aching as she clenched her jaw, her shoulders tightening.
Drive forward.
No.
Her breathing quickened. Her heart raced so hard she thought she’d pass out. A hot flush washed over her as the car closed in around her. She stared at the sign in front of her.
Welcome to Albany. A great place to live, work and visit.
Maybe for some. Not so great for her. She took a deep breath. You can do this.
No.
Yes. You’re a trained psychologist. You can damn well go home without having a panic attack.
Her breath came faster. Harsh pants filled the car.
“Stop it, Lacey. You’re over this.” Logically, she knew her brother’s death wasn’t her fault. She’d been through therapy. She’d worked that out a long time ago. But everything that had happened during these last few months had brought up old feelings of guilt over Brax’s death.
And anger. God, she was so angry.
Angry that they’d made her feel like Brax’s death was her fault. Angry that she cared what they thought, that despite everything she still wanted them to acknowledge her. To care. Anger and guilt were a bad combination.
But she’d come too far to turn back now and it wasn’t like she had to stay. She’d flown into JFK last night. She could have flown straight into Albany, but this way she had an excuse to leave early if she needed to. Nobody needed to know that her flight home wasn’t until tomorrow. Plus, there was the slight possibility her father might have asked her to stay the night. And the last thing she needed was to stay the night in her childhood home with her father and his new bride.