Forbidden Passion (4 page)

Dante hesitated before leaving Marlena’s, and once again scanned the woods surrounding her house, assessing the situation.

Dammit. Marlena’s home was too isolated. Anyone could park down the mountain road on one of the turnoffs, slip through the woods to her house without being seen or heard.

If anything happened to her…

No. She was safe in her locked house now. She had his number. She could call if she sensed danger.

Besides, he needed to put some distance between the two of them. Touching her hand had sent lightning bolts of need ripping through him. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if he dared take it further.

And dammit, back there he’d wanted to take it a whole hell of a lot further.

Wrestling with control, he cranked’ the engine, shifted into gear, and drove back to Jordie’s house.

‘By the time he arrived, the CSI team was finishing.

Dante tugged his leather bomber jacket around his shoulders and strode over to Hobbs and the medical examiner.

“Did you guys find anything?” Dante asked.

The CSI shrugged. “It’s hard to tell We took samples of the tree bark, the ground, the woman.
. .
We’ll let you know once the lab processes everything.”

“How about you, Doc?” Dante asked. “Was she sexually assaulted?”

“I won’t know until I get her on the table, but I don’t think so.” He snapped off his gloves. “But even if he didn’t rape her, he made her suffer.”

Dante gritted his teeth. “I need cause of death, and to know if there are any distinguishing marks left by the killer.”

Dr. Underwood narrowed his eyes. “You have something specific in mind?”

Dante considered the demons he’d met over the course of his lifetime. Considered Father Gio’s methods of torture along with his band of brothers, the elements. And then there were’ factions of demons that swarmed the hills that he might not even know existed. But he couldn’t elaborate, so he simply shrugged. “Just anything unusual.”

“Was Jordie’s mother able to help?” Deputy Hobbs asked.

Dante shook his head. “She claimed Jordie wasn’t dating anyone. I’m going to examine her vehicle tomorrow.”

A drop of sweat slid down his deputy’s forehead. “Why do you think he sent his trophy to Dr. Bender?”

He had theories, but none he could share. “Maybe one of her patients is the killer.”

Although that would be too obvious and easy, Dante thought. This killer was cunning, planned ahead, was sadistic and cruel.

And if he came after Marlena…

His gut twisted. The fucker would have to kill him first.

The early morning sun slashed through the sheer curtains in Marlena’s room’, blinding her but finally shining light on the dark shadows in the room that had haunted her all night.

That and the image of Dante.

For years, she’d been oblivious to the seductive powers of men she’d met. Yet Dante hadn’t even tried to seduce her, and she’d dreamed of a passionate hot night in his big strong arms.

Reminding herself that she had a job to do, that studying violent behavior and treating patients had been her lifeline the past few years, and that a criminal was at large, she crawled from the bed and padded across the cold wooden floor to the shower..

The hot blast of water felt heavenly and helped to alleviate the tension in her muscles from lack of sleep. But forbidden images of Dante opening the door and stepping inside the shower taunted her.

Closing her eyes, she willed the images away as she soaped her body, but she could almost see his powerful body illuminated by the faint bathroom light, could almost feel his taut muscles flexing as he cradled her against his chest. Could almost smell the raw scent of his body emanating sexual prowess as if he had no control over his desires when it came to her.

Good grief Marlena. You’ve never lusted after a man like this.

Flipping the water to cool, she rinsed, climbed from the shower, and dried off. She had work to do, and fantasizing about a man who didn’t want her would get her nowhere.

A quick cup of coffee and a bagel later, she dressed, wrapped up in her long winter coat, gloves, and scarf, and hurried out to her Honda. The sedan cranked immediately, although with winter’s arrival, she was tempted to buy an SUV with four-wheel drive to help maneuver the mountain roads when the ice and snow fell.

Gray skies clouded her property and the ancient trees shook, sending dried leaves raining to the ground. Mystena Mental Hospital, the local psychiatric hospital where she worked, was only a few miles from her house. A concrete structure that looked like an old Gothic castle, it was situated on acres of land bracketed by thick woods and fencing near the river. It was isolated and had an eerie feel.

As soon as she arrived, Ruthie Mae Stanton, one of the psychiatric nurses, rushed toward her. “There’s a patient in your office, Dr. Bender,” Ruthie Mae said. “Gerald Daumer. I tried to calm him, but he’s extremely agitated and insists he’ll only speak with you.”

“Of course.” Marlena divided her time between her research and clinical work, seeing patients whenever possible, and recognized Daumer from her patient list. “I’ll see him now.”

Adopting her professional mask, she opened the door and studied Gerald. He was rail-thin and pale, which made his thick wire-rimmed glasses look too large for his narrow face and pointed chin. He tugged at his goatee and paced in front of the window, his movements jerky.

“Hi, Gerald,” she said in her most soothing voice. “What’s going on today?”

He whirled around, pupils dilated, then began to pick~ at some invisible lint on his gray sweater.

“There’s blood everywhere,” he said in a shrill tone. “Blood on the floor, on the walls, on my bed.” He threw his hands up in fr6nt of her face. “And when I look up, my hands are coated in it.”

Marlena maintained a calm expression as she took a seat in her leather wing chair and urged him to sit down.

But he was too disturbed, bouncing up and down one minute, then pausing the next to straighten the magazines on the coffee table, placing them in an even line.

“Where were you when you saw this blood?” she asked cautiously.

Her words jerked him back from his obsession with the magazines, and he yanked at his hair again and resumed pacing. Gerald had been diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder, but up until today, he hadn’t exhibited signs of violence.

“I don’t know.
. .“
His voice cracked, his agitation mounting as he pivoted, then rolled one hand into a fist and beat it against the side of his head three times as if he was trying to jar his brain.

“Sometimes I’m in a bed, sometimes a hotel. Different places.” Knock, knock, knock, his fist hammered his temple again. “Then I hear that voice. A deep husky, ugly voice screaming at me to do bad things.”

“What kind of things?”

“To kill the girls,” he said. “Kill them and make them bleed?’

“Gerald,” Marlena said, once again interjecting a low, soothing tone. “Did you do something you need to tell me about? Did you hurt someone?”

He whirled on her, eyes wide and unfocused. “No…1 don’t know.” He paced back to the window and shielded his eyes from the light shimmering through the blinds. “My head hurts, hurts, hurts. It won’t stop. The voices, they tell me to do bad things. To kill the girls…1 think it’s the devil.
.

“Did you do what the voice ordered?” she asked again.

He dropped to the floor in the middle of the room and began to pull at his hair again, yanking it viciously, then beating his head again as he rocked back and forth. “No.
.
.1 don’t know. I can’t think. Have to stop the voices, have to stop them, get the devil out of my head..

Marlena flipped the call button to request assistance, then rose and moved to stand beside him. “Gerald, we need to admit you and run some tests. I want to run a CAT scan and check for physical problems first. And we’ll also run a full battery of psychological tests—”

“I’m not crazy! It’s the devil in me! Don’t you believe in evil, in demons, Dr. Bender?”

Marlena tensed, remembering her childhood. “I believe there are people with problems, impulses, and chemical imbalances that drive them to commit violent acts.”

He grabbed her by the wrists, his nails digging into her skin. “Then make the evil voices go away. Please, I don’t want to do what they say.”

“I’m going to help you,” she said softly. “I promise, Gerald. Just relax and trust me. You need medication and rest.”

The door opened and two orderlies entered, quickly assessing the situation. She gave them a nod. “He’s ready, aren’t you, Gerald?”

Gerald tightened his grip on her wrist. “Please don’t leave me. I need you, Dr. Bender. I need you to make them stop.”

“I’m not leaving you, Gerald, I promise. But first you have to calm down and let us run the tests.”

The orderlies pried the man’s hands from her wrists, and Marlena watched as they injected him with a sedative. Seconds later, he relaxed and allowed them to lead him from her office.

She left the room to consult Dr. Chambers, trying to shake off her unease. Oddly, Gerald was the second patient she’d seen in the last month who’d insisted that voices were ordering him to commit violent acts—though the first patient had been a woman, Prudence Puckett, a burn victim who’d suffered terrible childhood abuse.

Still, Gerald’s rantings disturbed her. What if he had followed through on the voice’s commands and killed someone? If she discovered he wasn’t delusional, that he had committed a crime, she’d have to inform Dante.

But first she had to assess his medical condition and determine if he was just disturbed or truly violent and dangerous.

Dante inhaled the scent of death and chemicals as he entered the morgue, scents that stirred his dark side.

Death was inevitable.

He’d tasted the thrill of the kill when he’d destroyed a demon. Felt the life of subhumans slip through his fingertips as he’d forced them to take their last breath. And he’d enjoyed it.

But he only hunted evil. Those heinous souls who deserved his punishments. He’d made himself a crusader for the cause. It was the only way he knew to save his own soul.

Dr. Underwood met him at the front desk, pushing his goggles up as he removed latex gloves and tossed them into a bin. His limp seemed more pronounced today, his craggy face weary, his eyes, which were two different colors, racing back and forth.

“What have you found so far?” Dante asked.

“I had Jordie’s dental records faxed over so I could confirm her identity. It’s definitely a match..

“What else?”

The thick vein in his neck pulsed. “You asked me to look for anything out of the ordinary.”

Dante nodded. “What did you find?”

Dr. Underwood gestured toward a set of steel doors. “Follow me.”

Dante did as he requested, stepping into the sterile room where Jordie lay on a steel gurney, her charred body draped with a sheet. Dr. Underwood had already made the Y incision and weighed organs. The acrid body odors, and the scent of burned flesh and blood, permeated the air, all reeking of death.

The doctor pointed at a jagged blood-red mark on Jordie’s neck. “See that laceration?”

Dante leaned forward to study it, his pulse pounding. “It’s made by some kind of tool with jagged edges.” He paused, his breath tight as his mind processed the possibilities. “No..
.
it’s from teeth marks.”

Dr. Underwood muttered a word of disgust. “Exactly. Looks like the maniac severed the carotid artery with his teeth.”

Dante tensed. “So she bled out?”

The doctor grunted. “Yes. She was set on fire postmortem.”

He ran his fingers over the dozens of photos of Marlena he’d clipped from the newspaper. That gorgeous silky hair of hers was so thick and lustrous he wanted to run his hands through it. Her eyes like clear emeralds. Her body..
.
like a sex goddess.

And her brain..
.
she was intelligent, strong, dedicated.

God. He wanted her with a vengeance. He had since the first time he’d laid eyes on her.

But she barely knew he existed.

Her work was all that she cared about. Her patients. Her damn research.

He’d read articles about her and her project at Blood-Core.

He disagreed with her theories.

But then the demon had possessed him, and he’d realized she was right. Evil was planted, embedded deep within the genetics of the body. Within the blood. The life force.

She thought she could find a cure.

But nothing could stop evil from growing.

He felt it running through his bloodstream now. The dark, primal, twisted urges. The hunger for death.

The need to kill.

The burning desire was already heating within him again. He was becoming a monster, his body changing just as the sinister thoughts consumed him.

He had power now, power in his hands and body.

His soul faded a little more each day.

Soon it would be nonexistent.

And he would serve only the Master.