Free Her Dying Breath by Rita Herron Page A

removed the paper cover-up he’d put on and tossed it in the trash. “Call me if you find anything else. I’m going to checkout the victim’s apartment, and talk to his ex-wife. Maybe she had a reason to kill him.”
    Bullock frowned. “Men don’t usually hook up with their exes in motels.”
    “Unless that was part of some sex game. At this point, I can’t rule anything out.” Besides, if the man had been cheating on her, his wife might give him the name of Logger’s lover.
    There was another factor that weighed into the case. The text Brenda had received indicated that the perpetrator had left a present specifically for his father. Which meant that the killer wanted the Commander to know what she’d done.
    Because Logger was connected to Arthur Blackwood? Or because the unsub was?
    Was she another one of his victims, one who’d been programmed to kill for him?
    And if Logger was number one, how many men did she plan to murder?

    Brenda rose early, showered, and drove to Amelia’s place again. She hated to disturb the poor girl, but she couldn’t discount her as a suspect in the motel murder without talking to her.
    Besides, Amelia knew Arthur Blackwood firsthand, had suffered from his cruel mind experiments.
    Amelia might know who’d sent her the text.
    She checked to make sure her mini-recorder was in her purse, then climbed out and walked up the stone path to the front door. More hints of spring showed in the tulips popping through the earth along the walkway.
    The wind chimes tinkled in the breeze blowing off the mountain, a musical sound that reminded her of her piano lessons as a child.
    Lessons she’d hated because she hadn’t been interested in music or attending a cotillion or impressing her mother’s snobby friends. Instead, she’d had her head buried in mystery novels and preferred helping the gardener dig in the earth to keeping her dress white and her social status pristine.
    She knocked, taking in her surroundings while she waited. The complex seemed quiet, but she noticed several people congregating by the community center and wondered what was going on. Maybe therapy sessions or classes?
    Today she hadn’t brought her cameraman with her, knowing that would intimidate Amelia. She wanted to broach the subject of a personal profile without scaring her off.
    To do that, she needed to win her trust.
    She knocked again, and a moment later Amelia opened the door. Even though Brenda had known the twins for years, Amelia looked so much like Sadie that it was still startling.
    “Amelia, it’s Brenda—do you remember me from high school?”
    Amelia’s eyes darted past her as if she was expecting someone to be with her. “I know who you are,” she said. “You used to gossip about me.”
    “I’m so sorry for that,” Brenda said sincerely. “We were just kids, Amelia. I…wish I could change how I acted back then.”
    Amelia studied her as if she was dissecting her. “You mean that, don’t you?” she finally said softly.
    Unexpected emotions rose in Brenda’s throat. “Yes, I do. I know everyone thought I was so confident, but I was really insecure. I took that out on you and Sadie, and that was wrong.”
    Amelia tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. “Is that why you’re here? To apologize?”
    Brenda hesitated. “That’s part of the reason,” she said. “Can I come in? I’d like to talk to you.”
    Amelia looked wary for a moment. “I don’t have many visitors. Or friends.”
    Because Arthur Blackwood had toyed with her mind. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I’d like to be your friend.”
    “You would?” Childlike hope laced Amelia’s voice.
    “Yes,” Brenda said, realizing she meant it.
    A slow smile tilted Amelia’s mouth, and she gestured for Brenda to enter. Brenda followed Amelia into the living area, which was attached to a studio where Amelia obviously spent most of her time. She’d seen some of the macabre paintings through the window when she’d peeked