Page 45 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“Kissing.” That single word dropped like a stone in the room. “I believe the killer applied the toxin to their own lips or used an intermediary. A balm or substance that transfers easily through contact.”

Jack blinked. “You think the killerkissedthem to death?”

“I know it sounds insane, but if you read my report, it’ll start to make sense. And you will have to check with Chong on this theory as I haven’t had time to delve into the science of it apart from speaking to a Professor of Natural Sciences at Ryston. The killer has to understand the toxin’s properties. How much to apply, how quickly it works, and how to avoid exposure themselves. But this isn’t a crime of passion or opportunity. It’s clinical. Whoever’s behind this is meticulous, possibly practiced.”

“Practiced?”

“Oh, yes. They’ll have to be. They would have tried many other methods before landing on this one as their preferred. So I’d urge you to check through other unexplained deaths, and near misses, of young people with no underlying health issues. I’dalso suggest looking into animal deaths. Maybe check with vets, the RSPCA. He’s a scientist. He would have experimented.”

“Jesus.” Jack tapped the file with a finger. “And the victims? Whythesegirls?”

“If I had to guess, the selection isn’t random. It’s specific, but not in a way that’s immediately obvious. Yes, they’re young girls. Attractive. And they each had a rose with them. It’s possible the rose was a decoy, not a calling card this time. A distraction method. A way to create a sense of intimacy or trust before the real delivery. These girls will mean something to him. But it isn’t sexual. There’s no deviancy. You’d have to do some more digging on the victims, as there’s not enough in what you gave me to figure out what they represented for him. As it’s not obvious sexual gratification, it’s got to be something else.”

Jack nodded slowly. “Do you think he’s likely to strike again? Soon?”

“Highly likely. The longer he gets away with it, the longer you have no suspects, the more likely he’ll get the urge to try again. This precision suggests a deep-seated need for control—over the victims, over the act itself. The killer likely feels a sense of superiority, believing they can manipulate life and death without consequence. It’s not just about the kill. It’s about proving they can do it flawlessly.”

“Are we certain he’s male?”

“Again, inconclusive. There’s no sign of a struggle, but the girls were heterosexual, so if we’re looking at someone who kissed them, the likelihood is he’ll be male.”

“Okay. At least we have somewhere to start rather than the nothing we had before.”

“You’ll need to cross-reference everything in there.” Kenny pointed to the file. “Events all victims attended, people they interacted with. But I wanted you to see where my thinking was going so you can tighten the net. Somewhere in that data is our killer.”

Jack sighed, absorbing the extent of the task ahead. “And you’ll be on hand to help with the profile?”

Kenny nodded. “You know where to find me.”

Jack tipped back in his chair, clasping his hands over his stomach, a deceptively casual posture, though his gaze pinned Kenny. It wasn’t his DI professional stance, as if he’d put that aside to let Jack creep out. “So, you’re feeling better?”

“Sorry?”

“Friday.” Jack cocked his head. “You ran out at dinner.”

Kenny rubbed his forehead, scanning for the alibi he’d offered. What had he said, and to whom? He was tired of spinning plates while keeping his footing. “Oh, right. Yeah. No.” He stopped there before uttering more lies. He didn’t owe Jack an explanation, not anymore. “Emergency. Sorry if I cut the evening short. Was nice meeting Fraser properly.”

That should appease him. Although Jack’s expression didn’t shift. Instead, his eyes sharpened, the smile from earlier slipping into something more cutting. So Kenny stood, hooking his laptop bag over his shoulder, ready to leave the scrutiny of Jack’s stare behind.

But Jack’s voice, tight and accusatory, stopped him in his tracks. “You told him.”

Ah. Shit. “No, I didn’t.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “So Fraser just took it upon himself to go out and buy a fucking children’s book and ask if he could read me a bedtime story, did he?”

“He asked my advice.” Kenny didn’t rise to the bait.

“Stay out of my marriage, Kenny.”

“Gladly.” Kenny’s tone was a blade. “I don’t wantinyour marriage. I’d rather your husband didn’t seek me out for advice you should’ve given him yourself.”

Jack surged forward, prodding his chest, then pointing at Kenny. “That was between you and me.”

“And I didn’t tell him anything aboutus. Fraser asked howhe could help you relax. I gave aprofessionalrecommendation, not a confession. What he did with that information is up to him. It’s called communication, Jack. You might want to try it.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

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