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people who knew him best.ā€

Ellie finished composing the message and hit send before glancing up and catching Jillianā€™s pointed look. ā€œWhat?ā€

ā€œI was just thinkingā€¦if thatā€™s the case, then shouldnā€™t you head out to the psych hospital? Because Iā€™m pretty sure thereā€™s a patient there who knows Kingsley better than anyone.ā€

12

Katarina stared at the visitor who stood at the foot of her hospital bed in stony silence, amazed once more by how different she and the redheaded detective from the Charleston Police Department were. As far as Katarina could tell, the only significant trait she shared with Ellie Kline was the fact that both of them were members of the very exclusive Kingsley Survivor Club.

As for the rest, wellā€¦that was still up in the air. Until recently, Katarina had been certain sheā€™d gotten the better end of the stick. Her upbringing, while unconventional, had granted Katarina the type of freedom that few children experienced. It lacked the stifling rules and restraints Ellie had grown up with. Rules that would have driven Katarina bananas.

Her lips curved in a humorless smile when she went to scratch her nose but was stopped short by thick straps on her wrists. Then again, who knew? Maybe she was predestined to end up in a straitjacket whether sheā€™d been raised in a mansion or a meth house.

ā€œSomething funny you want to share?ā€ Ellie stepped to the side of the bed, causing the fluorescent lights overhead to reflect off the badge pinned to her hip. The metal shimmered like fourteen karat gold, an image that forced a sigh from Katarinaā€™s lungs.

Whatever sheā€™d believed before, the truth now was clear.

The winner of their unofficial competition was the woman who could come and go from the hospital as she pleased, and who didnā€™t have to hit a call button to use the toilet. ā€œNot really.ā€

Other than flaring her nostrils, Ellie ignored Katarinaā€™s rude response. She stood as stiff as a wooden doll by the foot rail, with her hands fisted by her sides.

Katarina narrowed her eyes. Thanks to her unorthodox upbringing, studying surroundings and people was second nature. Their previous encounters revealed that Detective Kline practically simmered with hyperkinetic energy. One of those loud, bubbly types who found it near impossible to sit still.

Not on this visit. The other womanā€™s spine was rigid, and the fire in her green eyes had been replaced by ice.

Something had happened since the last time theyā€™d met. A big enough event to take a drastic toll on the detective.

Katarina jerked her chin to gesture at the empty chair. ā€œQuit gaping at me like an awkward carrot and sit down already. All that hovering is giving me the willies.ā€

That prompted a snort as the detective folded her long legs and sat. ā€œI didnā€™t realize carrots could be awkward. Or that Katarina Volkov ever said ā€˜willies.ā€™ā€

Katarina shifted her hips in a futile attempt to get comfortable. Sheā€™d never admit the truth out loud, but now that she was in the psych ward, she kind of missed the air mattress. The thing had been noisy as hell, but at least she didnā€™t wake up feeling like sheā€™d slept on a sack of bricks. ā€œWhy are you here?ā€

ā€œI was hoping you might have some idea of where Kingsley is hiding.ā€

Katarina barked an irritated laugh and rattled her arms. ā€œDo you really think Iā€™d still be chained to this stupid bed if I had any clue at all where my daughter was?ā€

ā€œOh, I donā€™t know. You donā€™t really strike me as your average, run-of-the-mill mother.ā€

The detective delivered the remark in a teasing tone, but the barb sank its hooks into Katarinaā€™s chest anyway. A sharp reminder that all her efforts to keep Bethany safe had failed. Her daughter had fallen into the hands of the one man sheā€™d vowed to protect her from, and the knowledge all but split her chest in two.

ā€œYeah? Well, at least I am a mother. Speaking of, how is the lovely Mrs. Kline doing? Has she accepted the reality yet that her only daughter canā€™t seem to hold down a boyfriend to save her life?ā€

That insult had been a shot in the dark, but when Ellieā€™s jaw tightened, Katarina knew sheā€™d hit the target. Surprising, really. From the puppy dog eyes Agent Lockwood made at the detective, Katarina had figured theyā€™d be an item by now. The jab had been aimed at her ex-boyfriend, the fancy rich philanthropist who was often splashed across the papers.

Ellieā€™s chest raised and lowered in five long, slow breaths. ā€œBelieve it or not, I didnā€™t drive out here just to trade insults. I have better things to do with my day.ā€

Katarina opened her mouth as wide as she could and yawned. When she finished, she blinked up at the detective. ā€œOh, Iā€™m sorry, were you saying something? I would have covered my mouth, but you know how it is with these kinky psych doctors. They just canā€™t stop themselves from indulging in a little patient BDSM.ā€

Ellie ducked her head and made an odd noise in her throat. If Katarina didnā€™t know better, sheā€™d accuse the detective of having a sense of humor. ā€œSo, why did you really come here?ā€ she asked. ā€œI know! Maybe you came to spring me out.ā€

Slowly, the detective lifted her gaze to meet Katarinaā€™s. ā€œI donā€™t have the authority to release you. Itā€™s up to the doctor.ā€

Katarina rolled her eyes before closing them. ā€œSure. Like I donā€™t know that if it were left up to you, Iā€™d be locked up in a prison with no hope for parole.ā€

ā€œYouā€™re right. I do like to lock up bad guys whenever possible. But I also know better than to argue with the Attorney General when he grants someone a ā€˜get out of jail freeā€™ card. Besides, the past is in the past. You havenā€™t killed anyone lately, have you?ā€

Clayneā€™s face appeared behind Katarinaā€™s eyelids, flashing that same confident grin from the afternoon theyā€™d first met, back in the dark bar that squatted in the shadows of the

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