Page 61 of Temptation
“That’s—that’s what our attacker said to me.” She rushed behind him. Touched his shoulder.
But he was already spinning around to her in shock.
“Preston, those are the exact words that he said. ‘Take a deep breath. Pray it’s not your last.’” She shook her head. “I thought you were unconscious. How did you know that he said that to us before he started dumping the dirt on our coffin?”
His heart thundered in his chest. “I didn’t hear our attacker. I never heard him speak a word.” The mad beating of his heart echoed in his ears. “Those are the words my father said to me.” Preston hated calling the jerk that. No, no, he’s not my father. Just some bastard who donated sperm so I could be born. “He said it, right before he started shoveling dirt on my coffin. He laughed and told me that he always told those words to his victims.”
But…
Then he’d said more.
You’re gonna be different, though, aren’t you? I can feel it. Now prove it to me. Prove that you’re different. Prove that you’re strong…strong enough to come from the dark. Prove that you are just like me.
“He…always told those words to his victims?” Her lashes flickered. “You didn’t mention that to the authorities. He received the moniker of ‘Last Breath Killer’ because when he called the victims’ families, he’d say that their loved ones had taken their last breaths. Then he’d rattle off coordinates. The latitude and longitude that would lead to the coffin.” She swallowed. “Him saying those final words to you—that detail wasn’t in any statement you made to the cops or the Feds. I know because I read every single one.”
He was not the least bit surprised to discover she’d read all his statements. “I also didn’t tell them that he was my father.” That was the kind of secret a guy took to his grave. Even when he crawled out of it.
“No one knew but you.” Her delicate brows lowered. “He said it to all of his victims. But he’s dead.” Certainty. “He can’t be the one who buried us. It’s just not possible.”
The drumming of his heartbeat would not slow down. “The cops shot him, but they never found a body.” He reached out again. Curled his fingers under her chin and tipped back her head. “How do you know for sure that he’s dead?” Then, deliberate, “Maybe he came back to finish the job he started on me.”
She stepped closer. “I know he’s dead. I found his remains. Took me quite a bit of searching, but I did it.”
“You…found his body.” He should stop touching her.
She should want him to stop touching her.
“I found him. Shot. In the back. Just as the cops described. Found a bone with a bullet still lodged into it.”
He didn’t blink.
“But more. His skull was fractured. His neck broken.”
Preston wasn’t breathing. Take a deep breath. Pray?—
“He could have received all of those injuries when he fell into the water after getting shot. The water in that river gets pretty rough, and he would have bashed against all the rocks.”
“You…found him in the river?”
“No.” A pause. “The FBI’s current theory is that his body washed up. Winds or the current shoved him free from the river.” Then she added, “His remains were in a remote area near the water. Real hard to access.”
“You could have left him there.” Why had he said those words?
“The families of his victims deserved to know that he was truly gone. You deserved to know that you were safe and that you didn’t have to fear the past coming after you.”
He was not safe. And the past was very much after him. “It’s been years. The body would have decayed. Animals would have fed. Probably only bones left.” No way could there be more than bones after all this time. “How could you possibly know if the person you found was the Last Breath Killer?”
“The person I found was Mitchell Donahue. I know because his DNA matched to yours. Mary Jean confirmed to me that she knew he was the Last Breath Killer.” A long exhale. “She confirmed to me that she was there when he buried his first victim.”
No, no, no.
“It was her,” Sloane told him. “She was the first. He buried her, but when she screamed that she was pregnant, he stopped pouring the dirt on her. He let her out. She bided her time. She waited and when she had the chance, she ran. She never stopped running from him.”
His dead mother. Sloane had found her. He’d hunted for his birth mother for years. With all of his resources, he’d still turned up nothing.
But Sloane…
“The remains I discovered are with the FBI. And, yes, you’re right. He was just bones. Normally, a DNA match on bones can take much longer to get. You have to grind the bone into a powder and pull out the genetic material, but I was able to rush the process through some connections I have in Quantico.”
