Excerpt from "Waking Nightmare" by Kylie Brant

“We need to process the primary scene and interview the victim. Cantrell, I want you and. . .” Ryne’s words stopped as the door opened, and a slight young woman with short dark hair entered. Despite the double whammy of Savannah’s heat and humidity, she wore a long-sleeved white shirt over her black pants. He hadn’t seen her around before, but given the photo ID badge clipped to the pocket of her shirt and the thick folder she carried, he figured her for a clerical temp. And if that file contained copies of the complete Marine Patrol report, it was about damn time.

“I’m looking for Detective Robel.”

“You found him.” He gestured to a table near the door. “Just set the folder there and close the door on your way out.”

Her attention snapped back to him, a hint of amusement showing in her expression. “I’m Abbie Phillips, your newest task force member.”

There was a quick vicious twist in his gut. “Welcome to the team, Phillips.” Ryne kept his voice neutral. “We can use a woman to help us interview the victims. We’ve been borrowing female officers from other units.”

“I hope to give you more assistance than that.” She handed him the file folder. “A summary of my background.”

The folder was too thick for a rookie, but it also wasn’t a SCMD personnel file. He flicked a gaze over her again. No shield. No weapon. Tension knotted his gut as he took the folder she offered. He gestured to the primaries in the room in turn. “Detectives Cantrell, McElroy, and Holmes. We had another rape reported last night and I was just catching everyone up.” To the group he said, “I’ll need all detectives and uniforms to the scene. Holmes, until I get there, you oversee the canvass. I’ll meet you later.”

His gaze didn’t follow the men retreating from the room. “Phillips, I’d like to talk to you first.”

She came over, sat down. He sank into the other seat, set her file on the table in front of him, and flipped it open. He read only a few moments before disbelief flared, followed closely by anger.

“You’re not a cop.”

Abbie’s gaze was steady. “Independent consultant. Our agency contracts with law enforcement on problematic cases. If you’re worried about my qualifications, the file lists my experience. Commander Dixon seemed satisfied.”

Dixon. That back-stabbing SOB. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Ryne delivered the understatement in a steady tone. “What our task force needs, what I requested from Commander Dixon, was another investigator. Preferably two. What we definitely do not need is a shrink.”

There was a flicker in those calm gray eyes that might have been temper. “I have a doctorate in forensic psychology—”

“We need a doctor even less.”

She ignored his interruption. “—and since joining Raiker Forensics, I’ve been involved in nearly three dozen high-profile cases.”

“Shit.” He was capable of more finesse, but at the moment diplomacy eluded him. “Do you realize what kind of case we’re working here? I’ve got a serial rapist on the loose, and with this latest victim, the media is going to be crawling up my ass. I need another experienced investigator, not someone who’ll shrink the skell’s mind once we get him.”

She never flinched. “You’ll have to catch him first, won’t you? And I can help with that. I consulted on the Romeo rapist case last year in Houston. The perp is currently doing a twenty-five-year stretch at Allred. Of the cases I’ve worked, well over half involved serial rapists. I’m exactly what you need on this case, Detective Robel. You just don’t realize it yet.”