But there wasn’t much of a choice.

McNeal frowned at Colin. “Put everyone on alert. Let ’em know this crazy SOB is out there, gunning for one of our own.”

Colin nodded, rose from his seat.

“I don’t want a bloodbath in my city,” McNeal snarled. “And I sure as hell don’t want to see a cop with her throat ripped out on the six o’clock news.”

But if the Night Butcher wasn’t caught, Emily knew that was exactly what would happen.

A hard knock sounded at the door. Brooks popped his head inside, not waiting for an invitation. “I’ve got some news you’ve all got to hear.” He stepped forward, gripping a white piece of paper in his hands. “Guess whose prints just matched up with the unknowns we found at Gillian Nemont’s?”

Emily’s stomach knotted. Gillian was a demon. Have to destroy the demon. She’s evil.

“Sonofabitch.” Colin shook his head slowly. “The kid.”

Brooks handed him the printout. “Bryan Trace. Runaway. High school dropout. Demon hunter.” His lips twisted at the last. “That’s what he told me he was, by the way. When the doctor was patching up his nose, he told me he was used to pain. Demon hunters have to be, of course.”

Emily rubbed her temple. “I don’t understand what’s going on! Why would this guy target me? It makes no sense!” Unless…Emily straightened her shoulders. Unless the guy knew that some of her patients were Other and he’d thought that she was too.

“It gets better,” Brooks murmured. “I’ve got a security tape of the guy going into the News Flash Five station yesterday afternoon.”

The kid was connected to all the murders. But…“He’s not the Butcher,” Emily said very definitely. Yes, the evidence was starting to mount, but it wasn’t Trace.

The boy was human. She hadn’t sensed anything supernatural about him.

Just an angry, confused, dangerous human.

Brooks shook his head. “It could be him,” he argued. “He trashed Nemont’s place. That links him to Myers. If we canvas the neighborhood, we might even find someone who remembers seeing him at Preston’s place before the murder.”

“You might,” Emily said, “but I’m telling you, this kid isn’t the Night Butcher. ”

“Umm…” McNeal shot her a searching glance. “Doc, you sure about this?”

She nodded.

“If the kid didn’t do it,” Colin said, glancing up from the printout, “I think he knows who did.”

Now that she couldn’t argue with.

“There are too many coincidences here,” he continued. “And they make me damn suspicious.”

“Me too.” McNeal studied them in silence for a moment, then said, “Get him into Interrogation. Find out what the hell he knows.”

Colin and Brooks strode toward the door.

“Ah, Captain?” She wasn’t about to let this chance pass. “I think I can help here.”

Colin swung around, eyes narrowed.

McNeal arched a brow. “You want in with him, don’t you?”

She nodded.

McNeal rubbed a hand over his bare scalp. “It’s risky, sending you in. His lawyer will have a field day with it since you’re one of his victims.”

“She shouldn’t go in,” Colin snapped. “The guy just attacked her. Emily doesn’t need to be anywhere near him!”

“I won’t get too close,” she promised, not looking at Colin. Dammit, this was her case too. If he’d been attacked, she knew Colin would have gone right back in with the perp. “Look, McNeal, the guy needs help. His mind—” Was twisted, confused. She bit her lip, muttered, “I don’t think they’re going to be able to get to him. But I can.” She knew it. If she could just get the chance.

“Observe first. And then—”

“Captain, no!”

McNeal glared at Colin. “My rules here, Gyth. Not yours. We may need the doctor on this one. She’ll observe the interrogation with me, and if I think we need her, I’ll send her in.”

Emily finally glanced toward Colin. Found him watching her with a burning stare.

“Do we have a problem, Gyth?” McNeal asked.

“No, not yet.” A muscle flexed along his jaw. “But if that bastard tries to touch her again, you might have a dead man on your hands.”

“Bryan Trace…” Brooks drawled out his name and flashed a friendly smile. “Did the doctor get you all patched up?”

The boy nodded jerkily.

His lawyer leaned forward, cast a menacing glance toward Colin. “We will be filing assault charges.”

“Umm, you try doing that.” Colin didn’t seem particularly concerned as he reached for a stack of photos. “I’ve got a station full of officers who saw the guy attack Dr. Drake. I was doing my job and subduing him.”

“Your ‘subduing’ technique broke his nose and bruised his ribs.”

“Umm.” Again, little concern. Colin stared down at the photos. “He was out of control. I did what I had to do.”

Yes, and Emily knew he’d do it again, in a heartbeat. Her hands curled in front of her as she stared through the two-way mirror.

“But if you wanna try to press charges…” He shrugged. “It’ll be your wasted hours.”

Emily looked back at McNeal. “Could the assault charges stick?”

“Nah. Too many cops for witnesses.”

Brooks straddled the chair closest to the boy. “Bryan, I need to ask you a few questions.” Light, easy tone.

“O-okay.”

“Were you acquainted with a Preston Myers?”

Bryan flinched.

“Umm, Bryan, did you hear my question?”

The boy stared down at his cuffed hands. “Didn’t know him.”

“But you’d been to his house before, right, Bryan?” Colin asked, his voice snapping like a whip. “The neighbors saw you, said that you’d been hanging around, hiding in bushes like some kind of Peeping Tom.”

Another flinch.

Emily knew Colin was making up the story about the neighbors’ testimony, but judging by Bryan’s response, he was definitely on the right track.

“My client doesn’t have to—”

Bryan lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed. A wide, white bandage covered his nose. “I was there.”

“Why?” Brooks asked softly.

“He was a demon. I watch the demons, make sure they don’t hurt anyone.”

“Ah…my client is obviously suffering from delusions. His mental capacity isn’t strong enough for these questions—”

“Shut up!” Bryan screamed, lunging to his feet. “I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy!”

Colin locked one hand on his shoulder, shoved him back down.

James pulled his chair back a few feet. “Uh, I think we should stop—”

“Shut the fuck up! You don’t know what’s going on here. It’s a war, man. A war.” Bryan curled his lip at the attorney, spat, “I don’t need you. I’ll say what I want. These guys can’t do anything to me. I’m a Hunter.” He jerked his thumb toward his chest.

“I’m the law. ”

McNeal stepped beside her, whistling softly. “The kid really was stalking Myers.”

And Gillian Nemont. And her.

“I take it you’re waiving your right to your attorney’s advice?” Brooks murmured, glancing down at his nails.

“Hell, yes!” Bryan suddenly seemed energized, eyes glowing, head tilted proudly, body humming with excitement. “I don’t need a dumb suit trying to tell me what to say.”

“Your funeral, kid,” James murmured, and sat back.

“So…” Colin tapped the photos against the tabletop. “You admit to stalking Preston Myers.”

“I was demon hunting. ”

“And were you also hunting Gillian Nemont?”

Bryan smiled. “Saw what I did to her place, didn’t you?”

I’ll take that as a yes, Emily thought.

“And Dr. Drake? You been hunting her too?” Colin’s voice was razor sharp.

Bryan just smirked. “Almost caught her.”

Colin’s left hand balled into a fist. “Did you now?”

“Bitch got away from me.” His lips thinned. “Kicked me in the balls. Fought like a hellcat.” He laughed then, a high-pitched, almost girlish sound. “Course that’s what she is, right?”

“Umm…” Colin glanced down at the photos. His jaw was clenched tight. “And Darla Mitchell? Were you hunting her?”

“The bitch thought she could go on TV, could hide what she was and laugh at us stupid humans.” He shook his head. “But I knew what she was. I knew! ”

“So you admit to hunting her.” Colin slid a photograph across the table. “Did you kill her too?”

Bryan stared down at the photo. The color drained from his face. “What the fuck! ”

“Look at it,” Colin snarled. “You see the blood? You see her face? Her throat was ripped out, clawed out—and she died in a pool of her own blood.”

Bryan’s eyes had doubled in size. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared at the photo.

“He had no idea what the body looked like,” Emily whispered. Because he hadn’t been there for the kill.

“She wasn’t a demon,” Brooks told him, tapping his fingers against the photo. “She was human, just like you and me. And she screamed and she bled, and she died.”

The boy was shaking his head. “No, no, I didn’t do that! I didn’t—”

“But you were hunting her, right?” Colin pushed. “Just like you were hunting Preston.” He pushed another photo in front of Bryan.

The boy gagged.

“You were hunting them, planning to kill them—”

Bryan shoved the pictures away. “I-I wasn’t—I was just w-watching them—”

“Stalking them,” Brooks corrected, the warmth gone from his voice. “You were stalking the victims because you thought they were demons and you wanted to kill them.”

“No! No!” Bryan’s head shook frantically. “I-I was just—just supposed to watch!”

Supposed to watch. Emily’s breath caught. This was it.

“Supposed to, huh?” Brooks leaned back in his chair. “And just who told you that you were supposed to watch them?”

Horror filled the kid’s face. His lips clamped together.

Don’t stop now. Emily touched the cold mirror pane.

“Who told you to watch the demons?” Colin snarled.

“No.” Bryan fisted his hands. Lifted his chin. “I ain’t saying another word.”

“You should’ve stopped talking fifteen minutes ago, kid,” his lawyer muttered.

“Shit.” McNeal touched Emily’s shoulder. “All right, Doc. It’s showtime. Get in there and find out everything that punk knows about the Night Butcher.”

Chapter 14

The door squeaked softly when she entered the small interrogation room. Bryan Trace looked up at her approach, his eyes flaring. “What the hell is she doing here?” He started to rise, but Colin clamped his hand down on the boy’s shoulder again and held him in his seat.

Her stomach was in knots. Her knees shaking. But Emily calmly walked across the small room. A chair was waiting for her. A chair right across from the would-be demon hunter.

Emily sat down. Stared at him. And waited.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“Keep her away from me,” he muttered, rocking back and forth in his seat as he stared at her. A trickle of sweat slid down his temple. “She’s a fucking demon! Can’t you see that?”

Emily pushed her glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose. “When you look at me, Bryan, what do you see?”

He opened his mouth, blinked, shook his head. “It’s a trick, it’s a—”

“Do I have horns?” Course, only the really, really old demons had those. “A pointed tail? Glowing eyes?”

“You’re mocking me,” he gritted.

“No, I’m trying to understand you.” And she was. “What makes you think I’m a demon? That Preston was a demon? Gillian?

Darla?”

“You’re tricking me,” he said again, glancing nervously around the room. “It’s not gonna work. I know what you are!”

“A demon.”

A quick, jerky nod.

“How do you know?” She pitched her voice low, tried to soothe. “How do you know who is a demon and who isn’t?”

“I-I just do.”

Emily leaned across the table. Tapped the crime scene photo of Darla. “You sure she was a demon? Cause she just looks like a dead woman to me.”

His gaze dropped to the photo. His lips trembled. “I didn’t do that.”

“But I thought you were a hunter.” She kept her voice calm. “And hunters kill, don’t they?”

“I-I was watching.”

“Watching? You weren’t just watching with me.” Her hand rose to her cheek. Lightly touched the bruise. His bright stare shot to her cheek.

“I-I was warning—”

Time to push him over the edge. “Warning me? Or trying to kill me…the way you did the others?”

“I didn’t kill them! I was watching, learning—”