Ash took the note, glanced it over. His eyes turned wide. "Catelyn. This is blank."
Chapter Two
Disappearing Ink
I GRABBED THE stationary back from Ash, my heart racing as I looked for the blue, neat writing that had been there a few moments before. "That's impossible. I saw it."
Ash rubbed his chin, thoughts stirring in his eyes. "You've had a head injury, been through major trauma. Is it possible you imagined it? Maybe had a nightmare?"
Anger boiled in me, fast and bright, and I held up the cream stationary. "Am I imagining this? I'm not crazy! I know what I saw. He threatened us. Threatened you."
Bridgette peeked in the room. "You two okay?"
I waved the note at her. "Bridgette, you saw it, right?"
She nodded, her uneasy smile curving into an uneven frown. "So it's not from Ash?"
Shit. Bridgette had never read the note. "It's from the Midnight Murderer."
"What? Let me see." She snatched the note and turned away from me as she read it. "Um, Catelyn, it's—"
"Blank. I know." I sighed, rubbing my eyes, trying to see through the fog of deceit around me. Stay rational, Catelyn. The Midnight Murderer wants them to think you're unstable. "She imagined it," he wants them to say.
Bridgette handed the stationary back. "Maybe it's a prank? Someone used disappearing ink to scare you?"
A shot of clarity. "That's why the ink was different this time." I searched the note for residue. Then, unable to find any, dropped the note near the flowers. "This isn't a prank. It's him. We have to call Detective Gray."
***
A nurse checked on me and tidied up the room as I got off the phone. "Beautiful flowers," she said. I nodded in reply.
Gray arrived a few moments later. "I'd just left the hospital." He slipped the blank note into an evidence bag and wrote something in his notebook. "We'll have it tested for residue. If there was disappearing ink used, it will show up." He sighed. "Anything else before I leave?"
I folded my arms. "You think I'm making this up." His resigned posture told me so.
Gray frowned. "I think you've been severely traumatized, physically and emotionally. The department can recommend someone who specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder—"
"I don't want a therapist."
"A counselor then."
"What's the difference?"
He shrugged.
Ash squeezed my hand and I took a deep breath, startled at how quick I was to anger since I woke, as if rage boiled just under my skin, needing the barest heat to explode. "When will you have results?"
"Depends on how backed up the lab is. I'll call you when we know something. But I wouldn't worry, Miss Travis. The killer is dead. You're safe." Gray stuck his notebook in his pocket and turned to leave.
"Lucky wasn't the killer, Detective. The sooner your department realizes that, the sooner you can get back to work."
He said nothing as he left.
Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them away. "The note was there, Ash. I swear it."
"I believe you, sweetheart. We'll figure this out. Get some rest."
A nurse interrupted us with a fake smile and a wheelchair. "Time for more tests, Catelyn. First, though, I need to remove your catheter."
***
Two days into my intolerable hospital stay, I was determined to bathe. I couldn't stand the smell of myself and didn't know how Ash could, either.
He supported me from the bed and into the bathroom. His lips brushed my neck from behind, and he blew a hot kiss against my skin. "Need some help?"
I pulled away, resisting the urge to moan yes. "I can do it myself."
He chuckled, and his voice set me burning inside. "You can have it your way." He ran his hand down my back, separating the hospital gown and cupping my ass. "But I can promise you this: you'll enjoy my bath a lot more."
His touch sent my heart racing. I grabbed his hand and pulled it off me, but couldn't bear to let his fingers go. If he took me now, I'd be powerless to stop him, like a leaf caught in a storm. He'd consume me.
I turned to face him, waggling my finger. "Dating before sex."
"Says the phone sex operator."
"Well, you know what they say. Don't mix work and play."
"So that night—"
"Was following a near death experience." I remembered him inside me, pushed the thought away before I tore his clothes off. "What if we don't work together? Like a real couple, in the real world—what if we don't fit together?"
He grinned. "Oh, we fit together."
I slapped the air in front of him, heat flushing my cheeks. "Once we get out of here, then we—"