Page 2 of Beneath the Scars

Well, sure, it's pretty prominent. Her entire right cheekbone has small radiating lines from her mouth to her eye. But compared to the rest of her, it's inconsequential.

The raging beauty is still ranting to her assistant about incompetent bureaucrats without manners, but all I can do is watch her. I don't need this right now. If Aaron Butler is another of The Cat's victims, then I need to have all my focus on the case. I can't be distracted by a pretty pixie with a chip on her shoulder the size of Mount Everest.

No matter how much I might want to try my hand at convincing her, I'm not a major asshole. It's probably best that she continues to hate my guts.

"Listen," I try again and clear my throat. "I'm sorry I made you wait, but it's important the scene stays intact."

Those eyes glare at me again before she turns back to her assistant. "And now he doubts we can do our job correctly." The guy helping her shrugs before spearing me with a short glare, too.

The pixie looks back at me. "According to my preliminary examination, he's been dead for at least eighteen hours. As you can see, he's undergone extensive torture, and without getting him on my table, I won't feel comfortable confirming the cause of death."

"He'll have bled out from the castration." Her eyes narrow at the interruption, and I hold out both hands in apology. "If it's The Cat, chances are this victim would have died from exsanguination due to the castration. The killer is too careful with their torture for it to be anything else."

She rolls her eyes at me. "Be that as it may, I can't confirm for sure. What I can tell you is there isn't any blood in the body and none around it, meaning the victim didn't die here, or the killer cleaned up exceptionally well."

"Thank you. When can you tell me more?"

The death stare she shoots at me is potent enough that the force of it nearly has me stepping backward.

"If we were allowed to come in when we got the call, the victim could have been at the morgue already. In fact, seeing as this is such a high priority, I might even have started the autopsy." She pushes her bangs away from her forehead with her forearm in an annoyed, absentminded movement. "Since then, we've had an apparent suicide come in, and I've already started on that; therefore, your priority case will only get started after I finish with the poor teenager that's currently cut open on my table."

"Sure, uh. Here's my card." I offer it to the assistant, who snaps it up and stuffs it in his pocket. "Call me when you're ready, and I'll come in when you do the autopsy."

She mumbles under her breath about having me look over her shoulder. Still, at this point, it's painfully apparent any kind of cordial working relationship with her is out the window, so I might as well embrace the suck.

My entire focus is on taking notes of the room as the rest of the crime scene techs filter into it to gather their evidence and take their photos. Mind you, not a single one of them grumbles or moans over the delay.

When I return from the bathroom, the ME and her assistant have removed Aaron's body, and I breathe a sigh of relief at having her presence gone from the scene.

I guess it's time to phone the office and let them know what's going on.

Chapter Two

He's here.

He came.

I knew he would. I've put out all the breadcrumbs. Scott thinks he's getting closer with each little crumb I feed him. But little does he know he doesn't have a single thing I didn't want him to have.

He goes where I want. Does what I demand. And he's oblivious.

I'm his puppet master.

Look at him dance.

Pretty soon, it will be time for the final curtain to fall. I just have a few more pieces to put into place.

Chapter Three

Lillian

Whatthehelliswrong with me?

Never in my thirty-four years have I reacted like that to anyone. No matter what shit they've thrown at me. I can tell Karl is confused and a little surprised by my reaction to Agent Scott, but as he is pretty pissed at the delay, he's going with it.

And because he's an excellent assistant, he also doesn't question me, which I adore because I wouldn't know what the hell to tell him.

Logically, I'm self-aware enough to know the teenager in front of me already has me in my feels. It's never easy for me to work on younger victims, but because of my sister, it makes it even harder. Every young adult who loses their life and ends up in front of me reminds me of her and the way the world failed her—failed us.

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