It Started That Night. Virna DePaul

murderer were brought to justice, regardless of whether they were the same person or not. He knew Thorn wanted the same thing—he was probably just frustrated that the governor was taking Hardesty’s claims about The Razor seriously. “Did you tell the governor that a patch of Sandy LaMonte’s hair had been shaven, too, just like the girls before her?”

      Thorn sighed on the other line. “I did. He doesn’t see it as a significant deviation from how Tina died. She was stabbed just like Tina. And as you already pointed out yourself, LaMonte looks even more like Tina than the victims before her.”

      More like Tina. And more like Lily, John thought. Which was the only reason he was here. Once again, he stared at Lily’s door, as if doing so would give him another glimpse of the young girl who’d turned into a beautiful albeit mistrustful woman.

      Had he been wrong to believe Lily’s life was in danger? Or had he simply used his fear to justify seeing her, when he’d sworn long ago to leave her in peace?

      But it was Thorn who’d asked John to look into Tina Cantrell’s case. Thorn who hoped John’s findings would mollify the governor and rule out any connection with The Razor. And contrary to jumping at the opportunity, John had even expressed reluctance at first.

      “But I knew the Cantrell family. We were neighbors. Our mothers were friends,” he’d said.

      Only Thorn hadn’t seen that as a problem. It was a long time ago, and he trusted John to look at the evidence objectively. Besides, Thorn reminded him, looking into Tina’s murder was just a formality. It wasn’t as if anyone actually believed Hardesty was innocent.

      Still, John hadn’t wanted to dig up old memories or the pain that came with them. Plus, looking into the case meant probably having to interview Tina’s family, including Lily. Better to let a stranger handle it, right?

      But then something had struck him….

      Inside his car, he reached into his satchel and shuffled through the photos until he had the right one, the one of The Razor’s latest victim, LaMonte.

      Like the other victims, neither her purse nor the jewelry she was wearing had been disturbed. And she looked startlingly like Tina Cantrell and her daughter, Lily.

      The Razor’s other victims had been dark-haired and petite, too, something he’d registered, of course, but it wasn’t until he’d put all the photos side by side that he saw just how much each subsequent victim looked more and more the way Lily had at sixteen.

      It had to be coincidence. After all, if The Razor had killed Tina, why had he waited so long to kill again? Granted, they couldn’t know for sure he hadn’t killed other girls in other locations, but still …

      In the end, logic hadn’t mattered. In that moment, he’d feared Lily was in danger. He still did.

      Even after all the separation and regret, he wasn’t going to walk away. Even if it meant having to face her and their past, he wasn’t taking any chances. Lily had implied he was trying to hurt her and her family, but all he wanted to do was make sure they were safe, her most of all.

      Fifteen years ago, she’d offered her love to him and he’d done what he’d thought was best. But in doing so, he’d hurt her. Terribly. Keeping her safe now was the least he could do.

      Thorn’s comment about speeding along Hardesty’s execution once again echoed in his mind. It had just been a poor choice of words, John told himself. Thorn’s caseload had gotten intense in the past few months, which had to have contributed to his breakup with Carmen. It still pissed John off, especially when he saw how badly Carmen was taking the breakup, but he knew Thorn was hurting, too. It was obvious any time Carmen’s name came up. Plus, he’d worked with Thorn for years. He trusted him. He was a good guy.

      Too bad Lily no longer trusted him.

       Chapter 2

      It was barely past dawn when John strode up to the El Dorado County Sheriff’s Satellite Office. Despite the prominent flagpole with the state and national flags in front, the squat tan building looked like a strip-mall dental office. Still, he loved working here, only about an hour north from where he’d grown up. The South Lake Tahoe scenery was idyllic—lush green trees, sparkling water, and snow-capped mountains. The pace was slow. The people relatively peaceful. It was a constant challenge that so many acted immune to the dangers of larger cities.

      The murder of local girl Sandy LaMonte and the others before her proved they weren’t.

      Going through the police reports in Tina Cantrell’s case hadn’t weakened his belief in Hardesty’s guilt. As Thorn kept telling him, the evidence against Hardesty was solid. But John also couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. Something having to do with Lily’s hostility yesterday—even as understandable as it was—as well as her father’s subsequent refusal to talk to him.

      He hesitated before entering his office and thought about Lily. It didn’t take long before his erection strained against the fly of his pants. John took a shaky breath.

      It had been the same reaction he’d had yesterday. It was like he was twenty years old again and he couldn’t keep his body from wanting her no matter how unwise the response. Back then, he’d pushed her away when she’d come to him. And now? Now he expected her and her family to … what? Forgive him? Understand? Cooperate?

      He snorted. Right. What a mess.

      With a sigh, he finally went inside. He greeted the receptionist and then went into the back office that he shared with the office’s three deputies.

      “Hi, John.” Deputy Tom Murdoch appeared in the doorway just as John sat down behind his desk.

      He motioned Murdoch inside. “Hey. Anything helpful from LaMonte’s parents?”

      Murdock shook his head. “She had a habit of hitchhiking from their home in Incline Village. Who knows where he picked her up. Here are their statements.”

      John took the folder and opened it. Yesterday, sitting in his car outside Lily’s house, he’d studied a close-up photo of LaMonte’s face. This photo focused on her stab wounds. On film, LaMonte’s injuries seemed even more severe than they had in person at the crime scene, which was the opposite of what one would expect. But without her face as a distraction, without the nerves and adrenaline and compassion that had rattled through him at the crime scene, all John had to focus on were her torn flesh and blood.

      The photos themselves seemed inhumane. Cold. As cold as the man who’d done this. He set the file aside. Hopefully, the guy had left plenty of evidence behind.

      “What about the jacket we found?”

      “Doesn’t look like it belonged to her, but it’s being tested along with the evidence collected from her body. The coroner found a credit card she’d tucked into her sweater pocket.”

      John remembered the thin gold chain around LaMonte’s neck and the small earrings in her ears. Was it ethics or simply disinterest that had kept her killer from taking them and the credit card? He hadn’t taken anything from his other victims either, even though Diane Lopez had at least fifty bucks still on her and Shannon Petersen had half-carat diamonds in her ears.

      “The coroner confirmed sexual assault,” Murdoch said. “Took a vaginal swab and other evidence from the body.”

      “It’ll match the others.” John sighed. “So we’re back to square one. We’ve got his DNA, but no one to connect it to.”

      “What about DNA evidence from the Tina Cantrell case?”

      “Never done. Back then, it wasn’t required and Hardesty confessed so why waste the time or money.”

      “Is having the evidence tested the next step?”

      “For some reason, the defense hasn’t asked for it. And the prosecution’s position is it’s not needed, so Thorn’s certainly not going to.” In fact, Thorn had been