Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(77)
Author: Abigail Roux

“Yeah,” Ty murmured as his mind reeled. “I think it’s time we report in,” he whispered, “before I get framed for this f**king murder.”

Zane swore, pulled out his cell, and started dialing.

Four hours into the night, they were standing outside the room, talking quietly with Special Agents Sears and Ross as members of the forensics team and others worked busily.

They had been given a chance to look at the scene before anything was touched.

Isabelle St. Claire’s body had been hung up in the window against a clean white hotel sheet. She was naked and bloody, covered with various colors of water-based paint, and framed by the painted wooden casing of the window like a portrait.

Ty had stared at the scene motionlessly, going dangerously pale as he looked up at the obscene parody of a framed portrait on the wall. Zane had finally taken his elbow and pulled him away, unable to watch the effect the scene had on him.

“So you knew the victim?” Sears asked Ty as they stood out in the hallway.

Ty nodded, but then shook his head. “She was an acquaintance,” he said hollowly, unable to take his eyes off the doorway.

“Meaning you f**ked her then left,” Ross supplied.

Zane cleared his throat, but Ty merely nodded again in answer, not taking exception to the harsh words.

Zane hovered closer. “He was gone for less than two hours that night,” he supplied in a hard voice. “He wasn’t covered in paint or blood when he got back. I think I would have noticed that, at least. We’ve been with each other pretty much twenty-four/seven since,” he told them.

Ty turned to stare at Zane briefly, but added nothing.

Ross and Sears looked between themselves, silently communicating before Ross turned his attention back to the agents. “All right. We’ve got your numbers in case there’s anything that comes up. Get out of here,” he muttered.

Ty didn’t move; his feet were rooted to the floor in front of the yellow police tape that now cordoned off the room. “How’d she die?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “Was she still alive when he put her up there?” he asked as the elevator dinged down the hall.

He waited as their two fellow agents looked at each other again. Sears answered, finally. “There’s a lot of blood. It looks like maybe she was,” she murmured regretfully.

Ty closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, fighting back the urge to be sick. Zane had to fight hard not to touch him or comfort him in any way, and finally he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

There was a sickening thud as the coroner lowered the body and sheet to a piece of plastic on the floor.

Sears closed her eyes and looked away. “Sometimes, I hate my job,”

she muttered, turning to look at her partner, who was watching dispassionately.

Another hand on his other shoulder caused Ty to open his eyes again, and he turned to see that Henninger had joined them. Ty didn’t even think to ask why or how.

“What are you doing here?” Zane asked, frowning a little. He looked over the younger man’s shoulder to see Morrison several feet away, getting paperwork from one of the city cops who had been called in to secure the scene.

“I figured you might be here when I heard the call,” Henninger answered quietly. “Are you sticking around?”

Zane looked at Ty. The man was obviously shell-shocked. “No.

We’re leaving. Come on,” he murmured as he took Ty’s arm, pulling him along behind to the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall. Henninger followed them, glancing over his shoulder to see Morrison absorbed in discussion with his back to them.

“Stop,” Ty muttered as they got to the fire door. He shook his head and looked at both men, then turned to look back at the activity behind them.

“If we disappear again it’ll make us suspects,” he reminded hazily.

Lips pressing hard, Zane bit down on his urge to protest. Although Ross and Sears had cleared them—for now—that didn’t guarantee it would stay that way. “Shit,” he swore under his breath. “Fuck it. I don’t want to be where that bastard knows where we are.” He turned and waved Henninger back to the activity, then took Ty’s elbow and put his hand on the heavy stairwell door.

Henninger nodded and headed back down the hall to the crime scene and his partner, glancing over his shoulder worriedly at them.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Zane muttered as he opened the stairwell door and gestured Ty inside.

Ty didn’t reply as he entered the stairwell and stood staring down the steps unseeingly.

Zane started down the stairs, then stopped and turned when he realized Ty wasn’t following.

Ty’s hands hung limp at his sides and he cocked his head slightly.

“He knew I’d been here,” Ty murmured. “He followed me. He knew he could hurt us through her. He knew we’d take different rooms than the ones we were given and he found us. He knew we’d stay on it even after being hurt and he planned for it in case we weren’t killed,” he rambled slowly. “He’s profiled us,” he whispered with a bit of shock in his voice.

“Yeah,” Zane agreed. “So we’re not going to get anywhere.” He paused a long moment. “Unless we break profile.”

Ty shook his head and frowned. “We need to take this to Burns,” he said softly, as if they might be overheard. “’Cause right now my number one suspect would be me.”

Zane’s eyes narrowed. “Was your last assignment here in New York?” he asked.

Ty pressed his lips together tightly, prepared to offer the usual “that’s classified.” But there was really no point in that. “Yes,” he answered finally.

Jaw setting, Zane stared at Ty for a long minute. “You’re not the killer,” he finally said evenly. “There will be evidence to track and clear you.

Just like there’s evidence to track and trap him. We just have to find it.”

Ty returned the look with one that was unreadable. Finally, he nodded and looked down at his booted feet.

“Ty,” Zane said, trying to get his attention. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You know they’ll take us off this case, right?” Ty responded softly.

“We’re both probably looking at probation until I’m cleared.”

“You said it before. Burns put us on this case for a reason; both of us are already f**kups who should have been fired or buried. He’ll keep us on it,” Zane asserted as he studied the other man. “How much is still missing from your head?”