Caging a Copycat - Chapter 2
Grant Harvey wasn’t the only one who would pay for his crimes.
Special Agent Silas Hart kept his former partner in his peripheral vision as he studied the hotel room. Hell, Olivia was everything he’d remembered and so much more. Flawless sandalwood-colored skin reflected the flash from the CSU cameras as she directed the team with an authority she’d always held over him. Even as a rookie. Her heart-shaped face and pin-straight textured hair highlighted exquisite cheekbones as she turned to face him, but where there’d been a smile all those years ago, now there was only suspicion. And he’d earned every damn bit of it. “Had you seen him since your transfer out of Violent Crimes or know why he was here in Seattle?”
“We weren’t exactly the kind of friends who stayed in touch.” She stared down at the bloodied remains of their former supervisory agent as Seattle’s chief medical examiner arrived and got to work. “After I transferred into the BAU, I fought hard to forget everything that'd happened in DC. I moved on. I built a team of qualified agents who support one another and catch the country’s worst serial offenders, and I haven’t looked back.”
“Director Branson,” the medical examiner said. “I’ve got something you need to see.”
Silas followed in Olivia’s footsteps. Forget everything that'd happened. Including him. He couldn’t blame her. Olivia Branson had barely graduated Quantico and been paired with him when she’d solved the case he’d worked weekends, overtime and months to close. Because of her, they finally had a lead in a string of violent stabbings that'd gone cold. He’d put her contribution to the case in his report once their suspect had been arrested, but SAC Grant Harvey had handed himself and Silas credit and the promotion to go with it, leaving Olivia a mere footnote.
Now here they were, two agents on opposite sides of the country, brought together once again to solve the death of their former superior, a man who’d gone out of his way to ruin Olivia’s career. She hadn’t let it stop her, though. Despite the ingrained sexism and racism of the man on the floor, she’d risen above the hatred.
“I’ve counted twenty-two stab wounds so far on our vic. At first glance, I would’ve categorized this attack as a crime of passion, but I can tell you Agent Harvey died from the first strike.” The medical examiner—Dr. Aubrey Flood, from the ID on her dark blue protective suit—pointed to one wound, directly over Grant Harvey’s right kidney. “There are no signs of a struggle. The blade entered the kidney from behind. From the angle and the location of the wound, I’m confident your killer is right-handed and familiar with human anatomy. Your victim would’ve bled out in under a minute.”
“Twenty-two stab wounds.” Olivia turned rich, dark eyes on him. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“No, it can’t.” Silas had only seen that kind of rage one other time in his career, and the woman who’d helped put their suspect behind bars was standing right next to him. “Grant Harvey wasn’t killed randomly. He was hunted.”