Read Online A Siren's Song (Ride of the Darkyrie 2) by Saranna DeWylde - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Saranna DeWylde
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opaque marbles, I couldn’t shake the feeling he was looking at me.
“I hate to interrupt your fun, but we’ve got a situation,” Grimes growled through the phone.
“Actually, I have a situation,” I began. How the hell was I going to explain this?
“Fuck all that, Hill. You need to get to the Capri. He—”
“There are no less than four cars on stakeout on the Capri! How did the Capri Killer do anything?” Shit. There would be no hiding another murder from the press. In three days, he’d already racked up six bodies. The city would go into a panic.
“Listen to me. He killed again, but there’s only one body.”
“I’m on my way.” I’d get details when I could think clearly enough to process them. After I cleaned this up. How was I going to—
“Brynn, there’s more. There was a second victim, but she’s still alive. And she’s asking for you.”
CHAPTER SIX
“She’s still on scene? Has EMS looked at her?” I demanded.
“She refuses to see anyone or do anything until she talks to you.”
“Is she MS-13?”
“No. Neither was the other victim. That was a good call, Brynn.”
I hated the warm rush that washed over me at his approval. I knew it was the right call to make to keep the gang affiliation of the other victims out of the reports. I didn’t need his validation.
But why had she asked for me? If she wasn’t affiliated with MS-13, she wouldn’t know about the bargain I’d struck with Dominic San Angeles. Or about the other deaths. Dread hit my gut in a series of sucker punches.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I have to swing by my place and clean up first. Give me thirty.”
“Thirty minutes? For fuck’s sake, Brynn. You—”
I cut him off. “I’m covered in my date’s blood, Grimes. I told you I had a situation of my own. Now, unless you want me to show up looking like an outtake from Carrie , I suggest you find a way to manage this until I get there.” I snapped the phone off before he could say anything else and my eyes were drawn back to the mess on the floor.
How in the hell was I supposed to clean this up?
This would have to wait. Sickert obviously didn’t live in this house; the only people he brought here were victims. It was unlikely anyone would come poking around until after I’d had a chance to dispose of the scene. The victim at the Capri had to come first.
“Don’t go anywhere, lover.” I slapped Richard’s cold cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
I turned my torn shirt inside out and while the bloodstains weren’t hidden, they were less obvious and weren’t easily identifiable as blood. Exhaustion wrapped warm arms around me as I stepped out into the night air and retraced my steps back to downtown Westport and to my car. My eyes felt like someone had dumped spoonfuls of sand into them and my muscles were rubber, but I couldn’t stop. Not yet.
When I got to my car, I pulled a spare piece of plastic out of my trunk and used it to line the floor and seat. I didn’t want any trace of Sickert’s or Anderson’s blood in my car. Then I looked at my hands and realized it didn’t matter. Dark lines had caked under my fingernails and my hands were a rusty copper.
I was getting sloppy. Even as recently as a week ago, I would’ve made sure I’d gotten rid of the clothes I was wearing and had washed my hands before going anywhere near my car. Just
“I hate to interrupt your fun, but we’ve got a situation,” Grimes growled through the phone.
“Actually, I have a situation,” I began. How the hell was I going to explain this?
“Fuck all that, Hill. You need to get to the Capri. He—”
“There are no less than four cars on stakeout on the Capri! How did the Capri Killer do anything?” Shit. There would be no hiding another murder from the press. In three days, he’d already racked up six bodies. The city would go into a panic.
“Listen to me. He killed again, but there’s only one body.”
“I’m on my way.” I’d get details when I could think clearly enough to process them. After I cleaned this up. How was I going to—
“Brynn, there’s more. There was a second victim, but she’s still alive. And she’s asking for you.”
CHAPTER SIX
“She’s still on scene? Has EMS looked at her?” I demanded.
“She refuses to see anyone or do anything until she talks to you.”
“Is she MS-13?”
“No. Neither was the other victim. That was a good call, Brynn.”
I hated the warm rush that washed over me at his approval. I knew it was the right call to make to keep the gang affiliation of the other victims out of the reports. I didn’t need his validation.
But why had she asked for me? If she wasn’t affiliated with MS-13, she wouldn’t know about the bargain I’d struck with Dominic San Angeles. Or about the other deaths. Dread hit my gut in a series of sucker punches.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I have to swing by my place and clean up first. Give me thirty.”
“Thirty minutes? For fuck’s sake, Brynn. You—”
I cut him off. “I’m covered in my date’s blood, Grimes. I told you I had a situation of my own. Now, unless you want me to show up looking like an outtake from Carrie , I suggest you find a way to manage this until I get there.” I snapped the phone off before he could say anything else and my eyes were drawn back to the mess on the floor.
How in the hell was I supposed to clean this up?
This would have to wait. Sickert obviously didn’t live in this house; the only people he brought here were victims. It was unlikely anyone would come poking around until after I’d had a chance to dispose of the scene. The victim at the Capri had to come first.
“Don’t go anywhere, lover.” I slapped Richard’s cold cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
I turned my torn shirt inside out and while the bloodstains weren’t hidden, they were less obvious and weren’t easily identifiable as blood. Exhaustion wrapped warm arms around me as I stepped out into the night air and retraced my steps back to downtown Westport and to my car. My eyes felt like someone had dumped spoonfuls of sand into them and my muscles were rubber, but I couldn’t stop. Not yet.
When I got to my car, I pulled a spare piece of plastic out of my trunk and used it to line the floor and seat. I didn’t want any trace of Sickert’s or Anderson’s blood in my car. Then I looked at my hands and realized it didn’t matter. Dark lines had caked under my fingernails and my hands were a rusty copper.
I was getting sloppy. Even as recently as a week ago, I would’ve made sure I’d gotten rid of the clothes I was wearing and had washed my hands before going anywhere near my car. Just
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