He checked the watch in his pocket again. The delivery would be arriving soon. He hastened his steps, using his cane to move quickly past the people headed in the opposite direction. They were moving like a school of fish toward the park to watch the fireworks. No one would know what was happening behind the theater. No one would hear her screams. And if everything went as scheduled, no one would find her body until morning. By that time, he’d be preparing for the next one.
The night air slapped cold against his face, but he hardly felt it as he took his position behind the dumpsters in the alley. He removed the knife from inside his jacket, mesmerized as the steel glinted beneath the single streetlight at the corner of the building.
The first firework exploded and the sky lit with red and blue. The people in the park cheered. But he only had eyes for the back door of the theater. He was all alone.
He’d pushed one of the dumpsters closer to the door the night before so he could be within striking distance, and he was glad he’d made the adjustment. Nervous excitement coursed through his veins, and he cursed himself for not doing a run-through in another place—to have the experience of feeling flesh give beneath the knife and the hot rush of blood over his hands. What he’d done to Mother hadn’t counted. He’d debated with himself over and over again. Practice made perfect. Mother always told him that.
But in the end he’d decided he didn’t need a dress rehearsal. There was something special about Juliet being his first. It was intimate. He’d always remember her because of that. His breath came in shallow pants and he couldn’t tell if the moisture on his face was from sweat or tears.
The theater door opened with a slam against the brick and Juliet came into view. There hadn’t been time to remove the lacy white confection she wore—the corset and bustle and petticoats—and her stage makeup was harsh under the yellow glow of the streetlight.
She cradled the pink roses he’d sent in her arms, and the note he’d written was clutched in her hand.
“Peter!” she called out. “Where are you? I’m so glad you came! I thought you wouldn’t be able to make it.”
The joy in her voice at the anticipation of seeing her lover sent a shiver down his spine. That joy was all the reminder he needed to move into action.
The blade slashed quickly across her throat, the blood hot and wet as it hit his cheek. He was disappointed that she hadn’t had time to scream. He would’ve liked to have heard it. But by then it was too late. The anger inside of him boiled and the knife became an instrument of rage.
Chapter One
Even in my half-conscious state, I felt the mattress dip beside me and I cracked my eyes open.
I noticed two things—it was still dark outside and Jack was holding a cup of coffee under my nose. That could only mean one thing.
My name is J.J. Graves and I’m the coroner for King George County, Virginia. I’m also the owner of the local funeral home, but that job rarely requires me to get out of bed before dawn. The hours before dawn were reserved for dock workers, nursing mothers, and killers. Since I didn’t know any dock workers or nursing mothers, I had to assume it was the third option that was about to ruin my day off.
“What time is it?” I asked, scooting to a sitting position against the headboard and taking the mug. Jack had given me the mug for my birthday, and it said, Coffee, Because Murder is Against the Law.
“Just after four,” Jack said.
He was already dressed in his uniform of jeans and a long-sleeve button-down khaki shirt that had King George County Sheriff’s Office embroidered over the left breast pocket. He smelled of soap, and I liked that he hadn’t shaved, so there was a bit of dark stubble on his face. His eyes were dark—almost black—and alert, which was one of the many things we didn’t have in common. Jack was a fantastic morning person, if there was such a thing.
It took me a little longer to acclimate to a new day. My five senses woke slowly—the scent of coffee and Jack’s soap—the feel of the sheets soft and warm pulled up to my chest—the sight of the rain that fell like mist through the trees outside our picture window—and the sound of the shower running on full blast in the bathroom. All that was left was the taste of heaven in the cup Jack had put in my hands. He always took good care of me.
I sometimes wondered if I’d ever get tired of the everyday details of marriage, but in my heart I couldn’t imagine waking up next to this man every day for the rest of my life and not appreciating the gift that he was.
“Earth to Jaye,” he said, his mouth quirked in a half smile.
“Sorry,” I said, blinking and taking another sip. The heat burned my tongue, but it was more important that the cobwebs cleared from my mind rather than be concerned about being able to taste anything the rest of the day.
I brought my hand up and touched his cheek, and then I rubbed my thumb across the scar that slashed his eyebrow—a scar I had put there when we were kids.
“You’re so handsome,” I said, and then I grinned at the uncomfortable look he gave me. “So what happened? Who died?”
His mouth quirked again, and I had a feeling I’d already missed the explanation, but he didn’t hold it over my head.
“A call came into dispatch about half an hour ago,” Jack said. “A body found in Newcastle.”
“Ahh, Victorian week,” I said. “Bar fight? Active shooter?”
“Nope,” Jack said. “Single victim found in an alley behind the theater by a drunk guy who picked a bad place to use the bathroom.”
“Risky for the killer,” I said. “And the public urinater Newcastle is crowded this time of year. The theater is a heavily trafficked area.”
“Maybe not so risky,” he said. “The bars close late, but the drinking is heavy. People stumbling around with metal tankards of ale all dressed up in stupid costumes and making poor life decisions. They usually eventually end up in the park or back at their hotels.” He gave a lopsided smile and said, “Or other creative places.”
“Ahh,” I said. “Those were the good old days. But that still doesn’t explain why I’m drinking coffee strong enough to bring back the dead or why you’re stalling so my brain actually starts to function.”
“Oh, good,” Jack said, slapping me lightly on the leg. “You’re awake enough if you’re thinking that logically. Get out of bed. Shower is already running. Plank and Chen were first on scene and Plank said it was pretty grisly. They’ve secured the crime scene, but it’s an alley, and apparently our costumed witness lost a good bit of his alcohol after seeing the body.”
“Lovely,” I said, taking Jack’s hand so he could help me to my feet, and then I shuffled into the bathroom. “God, I love this job. The glamour and glitz is sometimes overwhelming. Not everyone gets to start their week with death and vomit.”
“Ooh, sarcasm.” Jack looked into my almost-empty cup and said, “Was there something in there besides coffee?”
“I’m just extra sassy today,” I said. “It’s like a bonus.” And then I stripped and stepped into the shower. “Give me five minutes.”
“See you downstairs,” Jack said. “I’ll put cream in your next cup. I’m not sure I’m up for a day of you being extra sassy.”