Free Broken Bonds Boxed Set 1-3 by Trisha Wolfe

previous. Both women apparently lived alone and were attacked in their own homes. Both were tortured throughout the night and killed in the early morning hours.
    But there are glaring differences setting this crime apart from the other.
    The living room is wrecked. As if the victim put up a fierce struggle, or the assailant was enraged. Probably both. Broken glass litters the hardwood floor, blood coats the gleaming slivers. It’s probably too much to hope that it’s the perpetrator’s blood—most likely he attacked the victim with the glass object.
    Which denotes impulse. Very different from the meticulously planned attack on the previous victim, where she was subdued without a fight.
    “No forced entry?” I look over at Quinn, already suspecting the answer. There was no damage to the door.
    He shakes his head. “No sign of that yet. No broken windows. Everything is all locked up. There’s also no murder weapon or prints…but I’m hoping, with the apparent struggle, we get some of the perpetrator’s DNA.”
    When I reach the victim herself, I can only stare. Whether in wonder, awe, or mortification…it’s all the same. Naked and mutilated, she’s been posed on the floor as if she’s sleeping. Hands curled toward her mouth, hair fanning out around her head. Eyes closed. To the untrained eye, the pose looks like a sign of remorse—but he didn’t cover her; he left her nude and degraded. It feels more like mockery than regret.
    Her body is covered with burns, stab wounds, and contusions. Ligature marks wrap her wrists, and her ankles are still bound. That’s the only thing similar to the previous vic—everything else screams sadistic rage.
    Kneeling down, I pull out a pair of gloves I knew I’d find in Quinn’s coat pocket and slide them on. A hardened, waxy residue covers her thigh. Inspecting closer, I recognize the substance: red candle wax. It’s mixed in with the blood. Her whole body shows evidence of wax and fire burns…deep lacerations…numerous stab wounds. All over her chest, stomach, and thighs. And once the M.E. cleans the body, I’m sure she’ll find the color of bruising consistent with hours of torture.
    My curiosity to peek at her hands tears through me, but I decide to wait for Avery’s examination.
    “He did a number on her,” Quinn says, his voice raspy. “I know what you’re thinking. That the perp from the other case is looking good for this one, too.”
    “And the boyfriend?” I ask, tilting my head back to see Quinn’s face.
    He puffs out a heavy breath. “He was released from custody, but I had a team trailing him. I’ll need a more precise timeline here…but the boyfriend is looking clear of this.”
    “Of this,” I repeat, my gaze swimming over the victim’s mutilated body.
    “Yeah,” he says, lowering himself down beside me. “Unless he can be in two places at once, he didn’t do this. But you were already convinced he wasn’t our guy before, Bonds. So what are you saying? This is the same offender, no doubt. Look at her. Some sadistic shit is out there, stalking and preying on these women.”
    What am I saying? I really don’t know. “I never said that the boyfriend wasn’t guilty. I haven’t even completed the profile. I haven’t had time to piece everything together, and now this.” I shake my head. “I don’t know, but…it’s the deviation in MO that suggests this is a different offender. Massive overkill. Not at all like the first vic.”
    “From what I can see, no defensive wounds, either,” he adds. “This one could’ve been drugged. And I’ll wait for the M.E.’s report, but I’m going to assume she was sexually assaulted.”
    Quinn and I rarely agree—rarely bounce theories off each other so in sync. It says a lot about these cases that we’re working together instead of against each other.
    “The attack denotes sadistic rage and disorganized behavior. But despite all the disarray and blood, the crime scene still states