“I’d planned to do this while you were asleep, but your lady friend was still here,” Cade said conversationally. “Have to admit, that startled me. I’d figured she’d be long gone. I had to hide in the closet. But no worries. I’ll dose you up and be on my way.”

The vial and needle he pulled from his pocket had Richard’s eyes widening comically. Cade chuckled. “You really should have been more careful with your insulin dosage.” He stuck the needle into the vial and pulled the plunger until the syringe was full.

Terror had filled Richard’s eyes and he tried to thrash some more, panic making him strong. His muffled pleas were like music to Cade’s ears.

Cade pulled Richard’s robe away from his abdomen, pushed the needle into his skin, and emptied the syringe, despite the man’s desperate movements. When he was finished, he set the bottle and syringe on the bedside table, arranging them as if Richard had dropped them there. He then pulled his stethoscope from his pocket. He’d wait until he was positive that Richard was completely dead.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, Richard’s eyes following his every move. Cade knew it was time to get serious.

“I was hoping last week’s transaction during the poker game was a one-time thing,” he said coldly. “That maybe you hadn’t known that John Brewer was using his five-year-old stepson as his stake so that he could stay in the game. That maybe you hadn’t known that Blake Emerson was a pedophile and had bought Brewer’s stepson. But you did.” Richard shook his head hard, but Cade ignored him. “Brewer’s dead, by the way. So is Emerson. I killed them.”

Richard’s muffled “no” was to be expected. Cade was unmoved.

“I might have believed you, but I listened carefully last night. You know, through the door where you were having your super-secret poker game. I heard Brian Carlyle say that he had ‘seasoned merchandise’ that hadn’t yet been ‘branded.’ You know what his merchandise was? Of course you do. You vetted Carlyle and his stake, just like you vetted all the others. I found your database, Richard. I’m not sure why you kept such detailed records. That was asking for trouble.” Cade never recorded his kills. He didn’t need to. He remembered each one.

“Carlyle’s merchandise was his fifteen-year-old niece.” Cade leaned in, furious. “You knew,” he hissed. “Just like you knew Paul Engel liked young girls. You knew and you allowed it. You profited from it. You’re disgusting.”