Kill Me Once Read online

  The second shot penetrated her skull dead centre between her expertly shaped brown eyebrows.

  Nathan dropped his hand to his side and quickly walked away, disappearing into the night. Four down, one to go.

  And then things would really start to get interesting.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  The ringing of the telephone on Dana’s bedside table woke her early the next morning. It was Jeremy Brown.

  ‘I sent a cruiser over to your apartment with a copy of the Chicago Sun-Times about an hour ago,’ he said. ‘Should be outside your door now. Give it a read and we’ll see you over here in an hour or so.’

  Dana hung up and dragged herself out of bed. She left the bedroom and walked though the living room before opening the front door. The newspaper was lying on her welcome mat.

  She picked it up and sat down at the kitchen table before reading the six-column forty-point headline stripped across the top of the front page.

  SERIAL KILLER LINK IN LOYOLA MURDERS?

  By Chelsea Garret

  Sun-Times Staff Writer

  CHICAGO – On Nov. 23, a night janitor discovered the murdered bodies of three female nursing students in a dormitory room at Loyola University.

  The victims, Lindsey McCormick, 22, of Seattle; Liza Alloway, 22, of Deer Trail, Wyo.; and Ahn Howser, 19, of San Diego, were all strangled. Each also had her throat cut.

  According to police reports, all the fingers on Alloway’s right hand had been chopped off. An autopsy later revealed she also had four broken ribs.

  Chicago Police apprehended a suspect on the night of the murders, but later released him when Special Agent Dana Whitestone of the FBI was flown in to investigate.

  For the past week, Whitestone, working again with renowned FBI profiler and former partner Crawford Bell, has been investigating the highly publicised ‘Night Stalker’ murder of Mary Ellen Orton in Los Angeles and the ‘BTK’ killings of the Aiken family in Wichita, Kan. Previously, Whitestone had been assigned to the ‘Cleveland Slasher’ case, in which five little girls were brutally murdered over the course of three months.

  Late last night, an envelope containing a bloody swatch of clothing arrived at the downtown offices of the Chicago Sun-Times. An anonymous police source confirmed the swatch is from a sweatshirt worn by McCormick on the night of the murders.

  As of press time, neither Bell nor Whitestone could be reached for comment. The lead investigator in the Loyola slayings, Det. Constantine Konstantopolous of the Chicago Police Department, declined comment on the grounds the investigation is ongoing.

  The article ended with contact information for the reporter, Chelsea Garret. Next to Dana’s standard FBI ID photo, a short sidebar accompanied the main story. Dana took a deep breath and forced herself to read it. She’d always known it was only a matter of time before they dredged up her past.

  WHO IS DANA WHITESTONE?

  As a small child, Special Agent Dana Whitestone witnessed the brutal murders of her parents in their Ohio home. No suspect was ever apprehended for the crimes. She was adopted at the age of five by Stephen and Linda Grabowski of Painesville, Ohio. Tragically, the Grabowskis died in an automobile accident less than a year later. Whitestone was then placed in a succession of foster homes until her eighteenth birthday.

  Whitestone graduated with a degree in criminal psychology from Cleveland State University in 1994, then applied for and was accepted into the FBI Training Academy in Quantico, Virginia.

  Commissioned as a special agent in 1997, Whitestone is unmarried and currently lives in the Cleveland area.

  Dana put the paper down on the table and suddenly felt very dizzy. Pushing back her chair and quickly standing up only made things worse.

  She should have been used to the press by now, but the shock of seeing her name, Crawford’s, all the crimes, then her picture and life story on the front page of a 700,000-circulation daily newspaper hit her like a mule kick to the stomach. It was too much to take.

  Before she could stop them from coming, random scenes from her childhood started flashing through her mind. It was a movie montage stuck on fast-forward.

  Her mother’s voice calling out to her. Her father’s strong hands reaching down to pick her up. The silver flash of a knife. The horrible squeal of tyres on a rain-slicked road.

  The very last thing Dana remembered thinking was that she really needed a drink. She needed to block out all the pain, confusion, lies, betrayal and hurt. Then she blacked out so completely that she didn’t even feel her head smacking the sharp edge of the kitchen table on her way to collapsing on the linoleum-covered floor.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  Nathan sat in his rental car outside his sister’s apartment complex in Lakewood and listened to the narrator run down a list of America’s most notorious serial killers. If there were any justice in the world, the very next edition of this audiobook would feature his name at the top of the list.

  He leaned forward and turned the volume up.

  Everything was absolutely perfect now. Through the miracle of technology he had his murderous friends by his side, and his geography couldn’t be any better.

  He was thoroughly engrossed in the tape when he was suddenly jolted back to his surroundings by the sound of an ambulance siren wailing. His jaw dropped when the vehicle came to a screeching stop in front of the main doors of the apartment complex. Three EMTs flung the doors open and rushed inside.

  Nathan’s heart slammed in his chest. What the fuck was this all about?

  Five minutes later he watched his sister being wheeled out on a gurney.

  Nathan clenched his teeth so hard that he nearly chipped a tooth. Slipping the car into gear, he followed the ambulance as closely as he could without getting into an accident. Thankfully, the hospital was less than a mile away.

  So help me God, he thought as he pulled into the busy parking lot five minutes later. If she’s already dead there’s going to be hell to pay.

  This one was his.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  Dana groaned as her world swam back into focus and she became aware of three grave faces clustered around her bed and staring down at her. She felt ridiculous, like Dorothy waking up from her infamous tornado-induced coma in The Wizard of Oz.

  It was Bill Krugman, the Wizard himself, who spoke first. ‘Agent Whitestone, how are you feeling?’

  Dana winced at the rawness in her throat. ‘Not so hot,’ she mumbled.

  Krugman nodded. ‘I don’t imagine you do.’

  Dana closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she found herself looking up into Jeremy’s warm brown eyes. The Tin Man if ever she’d seen one.

  ‘Remember me?’ he asked, with a gentle smile.

  ‘Where the hell am I?’ Dana asked.

  ‘Fairview General Hospital,’ Brown said. ‘When you didn’t show up at the office, we got worried and called your friend here.’

  Eric moved forward next, an identical look of concern clouding his handsome features. Who was he? The Scarecrow? Or the Cowardly Lion?

  Definitely the Scarecrow.

  He placed a hand on the side of her face. ‘I found you passed out in your apartment, honey.’

  Dana shook the cobwebs out of her brain. ‘I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train. How long have I been out of it?’

  ‘About three hours now,’ Krugman said.

  He lifted his left wrist and checked his watch. ‘In any event, I’m glad you’re OK. You just take it easy for today. Agent Brown and I are going downtown to get back to work. I’m staying at The Wyndham on Euclid Avenue. If you need anything, call the front desk. If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow morning I’ll assume you’ve recovered enough to join us.’ At least he hadn’t pulled her from the case.

  With their expressions, Krugman and Brown both sent Dana their own individual messages of concern as they left the hospital room. When they’d gone, Eric pulled a chair over to the side of Dana’s bed and ran his thumb gently
over the top of her hand, being very careful not to disturb the intravenous tube.

  ‘How are you feeling, buddy?’

  As she looked up into Eric’s eyes, all the tragic events in Dana’s life caught up with her. For once, she decided to just let them all go.

  The tears came in a hot torrent for two solid minutes.

  When they had subsided, Eric sat back in his chair and rubbed at his own misty eyes. ‘Talk to me, Dana,’ he said. ‘It’s obvious that something serious is going on with you.’

  Dana pushed herself up straighter in bed. ‘I’m scared, Eric. That’s what’s going on with me. I’m so fucking scared I can’t even think straight.’

  Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door and a middle-aged physician with a large strawberry birthmark in the centre of his forehead entered the room.

  ‘Hello, Dana, I’m Dr Rami,’ the man said in a deep voice marinated in a thick Indian accent. He glanced down at the medical chart hanging by a length of plastic at the foot of her bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Dana wiped at her eyes. ‘Not that great, doc,’ she answered honestly. ‘But I really need to get back to work, so it doesn’t matter how I feel right now. When can I get out of this place?’

  Rami frowned and looked at Eric. ‘This is a very serious thing that has happened to you, Miss Whitestone. May I speak with you in private for a moment?’

  Eric rose to his feet to leave but Dana raised a hand to stop him. ‘That won’t be necessary. Eric’s eventually going to hear what you say, anyway, so you might as well just say it in front of him.’ ‘

  Rami nodded and flipped a page on her chart. ‘Stress-induced blackouts are a very serious condition, Miss Whitestone. Not to mention I found alcohol in your system this morning. I’d like to keep you in overnight for observation. As a precautionary measure.’

  Dana shook her head. ‘Can’t do it, doc,’ she said. ‘I really need to get out of here.’

  Rami frowned and pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up on the bridge of his nose. ‘Very well, then,’ he said, seeing the look of determination and defiance on her face. ‘I can’t stop you. I’ll discharge you today if it’s absolutely necessary, but only if your friend here promises to keep a close eye on you and calls me if you start feeling ill again.’

  ‘That won’t be a problem, doctor,’ Eric assured him.

  Rami held Dana’s gaze as he left the room. ‘I’m very serious about this, Miss Whitestone. Please don’t take this condition lightly.’

  Five minutes later a squat nurse with the prettiest smile Dana had ever seen breezed into the room. She unfastened the tube from Dana’s hand and rubbed an alcohol swab over the redness. She winked at Dana when she saw Eric standing over by the window. ‘You may not be feeling so hot, honey, but I’d say you’re a lucky girl all the same. Sure wish I was going home with a hunk like that.’

  She lowered the bedrail and helped Dana to her feet before she brought Dana’s clothes into the bathroom so she could change for the trip home.

  The nurse winked at her again when Dana had finished dressing. ‘I’ll send an orderly in with a wheelchair in a minute, honey. But just remember, if you ever need any help with this one – any help at all – I’m available any time. Day or night. Don’t be afraid to take me up on that offer, either.’

  Dana smiled. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  As promised, a tall, muscular orderly with wavy brown hair arrived a few moments later and helped Dana settle into a wheelchair. He turned to Eric, smiling. ‘You can wheel her out if you want. Just make sure you stop off at the front desk and sign out before you leave, OK?’

  ‘Not a problem,’ Eric said.

  When the orderly had left the room, Dana turned to Eric. ‘Ready to go, you big hunk? We’d better get you out of here before you get kidnapped. I’m pretty sure that nurse who was in here has her heart set on you, and she doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who takes no for an answer.’

  ‘That’s nice, Dana, but to tell you the truth I was more attracted to the orderly.’

  ‘I figured as much.’

  When Eric Carlton smiled at her, for the first time in months Dana felt like everything was going to be all right. As long as she had Eric in her life, everything else would sort itself out. She was sure of it.

  ‘Sit tight for a minute,’ he said. ‘I have to make a quick pit stop before we go.’

  Dana smiled up at him from her wheelchair.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  The anger burned in Nathan’s chest as he left the hospital room.

  He ducked into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face in an effort to calm down, but it was no use.

  Staring deep into the reflection of his glittering brown eyes in the spotless mirror above the sink, he decided it was reparation time.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  At precisely seven o’clock that evening Eric served dinner, clucking around Dana like a mother hen. It seemed utterly surreal to be suddenly transplanted into a domestic idyll in the middle of a murder hunt, but with Krugman refusing to let Dana anywhere near the case until after the twenty-four-hour rest that the doctor had ordered she didn’t have much choice. And it probably was exactly what she needed right now. A nice, normal meal with someone who would do anything for her – before real life kicked in again.

  As they sat down to a delicious meal of duck à l’orange, crisp green beans and baby carrots, Eric reached across the table and covered Dana’s hand with his. His eyes misted over.

  ‘I’m so worried about you, Dana,’ he said with an audible hitch in his voice. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you. I need you, for Christ’s sake. I was so scared when I found you passed out this morning. I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d do if you never woke up again.’

  A painful lump formed in Dana’s throat. ‘I’m sorry, Eric.’

  He took his hand away and let out a deep breath. ‘I think you should quit the case.’

  Dana shook her head. ‘You know I can’t do that. Too many people are counting on me.’

  ‘Counting on you so much that you get ill. You heard what the doctor said.’

  When Dana didn’t respond, Eric went on. ‘Is there anything I can do to help at all? I feel so goddamn useless.’

  Dana held back the sobs that she felt coming on. ‘You’re already doing everything you can for me,’ she said. ‘You’re being my friend, and that’s what I really need right now.’

  Eric smiled gently. ‘You mean your best friend.’

  Dana laughed, tears smarting in her eyes. ‘Of course that’s what I mean, you goofball. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life.’

  Now Eric had tears in his eyes. This was turning into a sob-fest, but Dana didn’t care. She knew how serious her collapse had been: it was a warning sign – a big one – that something had to change. But right now she just wanted to hide away with Eric and pretend that nothing bad was ever going to happen to her again. Tomorrow she’d deal with reality.

  ‘You really mean that?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Good. That’s what I needed to hear. So what do you say we have a little toast to our friendship?’

  He worked a bottle of sparkling apple juice with a corkscrew and poured a glass for both of them before handing one over to her. ‘You do the honours, sweetheart.’

  Dana leaned her head back and studied the ceiling for a moment as she came up with the appropriate sentiment. ‘Well, I was going to wish for something romantic like world peace or that we’d both find true love and happiness one day, but what the hell.’

  She raised her glass in Eric’s direction and clinked it against his. ‘Here’s to you, here’s to me, best of friends we’ll always be, but if we should ever disagree, fuck you – here’s to me!’

  And with that she downed her entire glass in one swallow.

  Eric shook his head. ‘You surprise me, Dana, you really do, but it’s good to see a bit of the old Dana ba
ck.’ Looking her directly in the eye and rising to the challenge, he said, ‘And no, fuck you, Dana. Here’s to me.’

  Throwing his head back, he drained his own glass in one quick pull.

  And they both laughed harder than they had in years.

  Finishing up the dinner dishes an hour later, they returned to Eric’s living room and popped in a DVD. Bambi – one of Dana’s all-time favourites.

  Snuggled together on the couch, they closed their eyes and fell asleep in each other’s arms with Oreo curled up at their feet.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  Nathan breathed a deep sigh of relief right before he fell asleep. She was still alive. At least for now. Thank God for small favours.

  As he slowly drifted away, the narrator of the audiobook continued the list of notorious serial killers in his mind. These ones were from all around the globe.

  ‘Cayetano Santos Gordino. “The Big-Eared Midget” from Argentina killed four children in 1912 before dying in prison in 1944.

  ‘Paul Denyer. “The Frankston Serial Killer” from Australia murdered three women in a Melbourne suburb in 1993.

  ‘Robert Succo. This Italian madman murdered at least five people, including his own parents.’

  Nathan hit the stop button in his mind. It was enough for tonight, and it had ended fittingly. Shit, he hadn’t seen his own parents in years.

  Tomorrow morning he’d finally remedy that little situation once and for all.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  When the phone rang at six o’clock the next morning, Eric freed his arm from beneath Dana to answer it. After a moment, he handed it over. ‘Bill Krugman,’ he said.

  Dana removed a silver hoop earring and sleepily brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes before placing the receiver to her ear. ‘Hello?’