For a long, frozen second she stared, unable to move or speak with only one thought flitting through her headWhat were the damn odds that the very serial killer they were looking for would be in the house? Hiding in the freaking closet?

Good odds, obviously. Very good odds.

Eden shrieked as the large man thrust out his hand and grabbed her. He turned her around and held her firmly in place with one arm. The sharp tip of the knife grazed her throat.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he growled. “I was trying to hide all quiet like a mouse.”

“Drop your weapon!” Ben had his gun out and pointed at the friendly neighborhood serial killer currently pressed against Eden’s back.

The sharp edge of the blade pushed closer against her skin. “I just came back to pick up a few things, not to have a show-down. You should have damn well left me alone.”

Eden shot Ben a panicked look and then concentrated on not moving. “Please let go of me.”

He dragged her roughly backward into the open archway leading to the living room. The curtains were drawn on the bay window, leaving them in shadows. “I need your help. I heard you talking. You’re a psychic. That’s how you sniffed me out.”

Now that she was really close to him she could literally sniff him out. Considering how neat and tidy his house was, the man had obviously been away from deodorant or showers for several days. Her skin crawled and bile rose in her throat.

“How can I help you?” she managed.

“I’m possessed by a demon,” he hissed into her ear. “And I want it out of me.”

“A demon?” she repeated, trying to sound as if she believed him. “Is that what you think is making you kill people? The devil made you do it?”

She exchanged a fleeting look with Ben, who stood six feet in front of her. He’d be able to hear everything the freak was saying to her. The cop’s expression was fierce but a distinct flicker of worry crossed his blue eyes. He was thinking what she was thinking. This guy was insane — even by serial killer standards.