she…”
“Yeah. ME says maybe as long as twelve hours. They’ll know more when they get the body back to the lab.”
His stomach threatened revolt, but he started forward anyway, determined to get to her even though it made no sense. He’d arrived too late to be of any help. Hell, even with all his training, all his connections, he hadn’t been able to make the difference. He hadn’t been able to find her in time. But he still needed to see her, if for no other reason than to prove that this was real.
Brianna was dead.
“No,” Madison whispered, her hand on his arm preventing forward motion. “You don’t want to go in there. You don’t want your last memory to be…” She swallowed, a shudder rippling across her frame.
“She’s my sister, Madison. I don’t have a choice.” He shook off her hand and stepped inside the little house. The living room looked almost quaint, but he ignored the homespun comfort and headed down the hall to the room in the back where the forensic techs were hard at work, their bright lights cutting across the shadowed hallway with a garish glow.
The harsh metallic smell of blood filled the room. And even though the odor wasn’t something new, it still made his skin crawl and his gut clench. There were bloodstains on the bed, the spatter on the wall behind the headboard looking like some kind of macabre painting. A piece of rope had fallen to the floor, the hemp also stained with blood. But despite the signs of violence, there was no body.
“Where is she?” Harrison asked, his voice sounding overly loud against the forced hush within the room.
Tracy Braxton, the ME, blinked once, her chocolate eyes taking a moment to focus as she pulled herself from her train of thought. “She’s downstairs. In the basement. But you don’t want to go down there, Harrison.” Like Madison, she was trying to protect him. He knew that. Knew also that she was probably right. But he didn’t have a choice. Bree was a part of him.
Exactly two minutes older, he’d always been quick to remind people that he was the eldest sibling. But in truth, Bree had been the wise one, the calming influence that tamed his wilder instincts. He’d been the one who’d walked the razor’s edge. And she’d always been there, waiting until he’d needed her to rescue him—mostly from himself.
And now, the one time she’d truly needed him…
With an apologetic shrug to Tracy, he turned and made his way back down the hallway to the cellar door. In his haste, he’d missed it the first time, the faint light from below barely visible at the top of the stairs.
As in the bedroom, the first thing that hit him was the smell. And he stopped for a moment, reaching inside for strength. Then with a slow exhalation, he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, nodding at a uniform and again flashing his credentials, before making his way to the back of the brick-lined room.
It was cold. Colder than he’d have thought considering it was spring. Like a grave. He pushed aside the thought and turned the corner, walking into the little alcove that marked the center of activity, his mind revolting at the sight before him. She was naked, strung up by the arms, her position reminiscent of ancient crucifixion. The disrespect was evident not just in the horrific wayshe’d been left to die, but in the carvings on her skin. Each cut, surgically precise, was accentuated with a trail of dried blood, the garish result making her look more like a battered doll than a human being.
His sister. Bree.
White-hot rage ripped through him, the pain doubled by the feeling of impotence. Nothing he’d done had mattered. He hadn’t been fast enough. And now the bastard behind this… this carnage was out there somewhere, waiting to do it all over again.
He reached up to touch her face, ignoring the tech trying to shoo him away, praying that somehow he’d wake up and find it all a dream. His fingers touched the cold flesh of her cheek, and
“Yeah. ME says maybe as long as twelve hours. They’ll know more when they get the body back to the lab.”
His stomach threatened revolt, but he started forward anyway, determined to get to her even though it made no sense. He’d arrived too late to be of any help. Hell, even with all his training, all his connections, he hadn’t been able to make the difference. He hadn’t been able to find her in time. But he still needed to see her, if for no other reason than to prove that this was real.
Brianna was dead.
“No,” Madison whispered, her hand on his arm preventing forward motion. “You don’t want to go in there. You don’t want your last memory to be…” She swallowed, a shudder rippling across her frame.
“She’s my sister, Madison. I don’t have a choice.” He shook off her hand and stepped inside the little house. The living room looked almost quaint, but he ignored the homespun comfort and headed down the hall to the room in the back where the forensic techs were hard at work, their bright lights cutting across the shadowed hallway with a garish glow.
The harsh metallic smell of blood filled the room. And even though the odor wasn’t something new, it still made his skin crawl and his gut clench. There were bloodstains on the bed, the spatter on the wall behind the headboard looking like some kind of macabre painting. A piece of rope had fallen to the floor, the hemp also stained with blood. But despite the signs of violence, there was no body.
“Where is she?” Harrison asked, his voice sounding overly loud against the forced hush within the room.
Tracy Braxton, the ME, blinked once, her chocolate eyes taking a moment to focus as she pulled herself from her train of thought. “She’s downstairs. In the basement. But you don’t want to go down there, Harrison.” Like Madison, she was trying to protect him. He knew that. Knew also that she was probably right. But he didn’t have a choice. Bree was a part of him.
Exactly two minutes older, he’d always been quick to remind people that he was the eldest sibling. But in truth, Bree had been the wise one, the calming influence that tamed his wilder instincts. He’d been the one who’d walked the razor’s edge. And she’d always been there, waiting until he’d needed her to rescue him—mostly from himself.
And now, the one time she’d truly needed him…
With an apologetic shrug to Tracy, he turned and made his way back down the hallway to the cellar door. In his haste, he’d missed it the first time, the faint light from below barely visible at the top of the stairs.
As in the bedroom, the first thing that hit him was the smell. And he stopped for a moment, reaching inside for strength. Then with a slow exhalation, he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, nodding at a uniform and again flashing his credentials, before making his way to the back of the brick-lined room.
It was cold. Colder than he’d have thought considering it was spring. Like a grave. He pushed aside the thought and turned the corner, walking into the little alcove that marked the center of activity, his mind revolting at the sight before him. She was naked, strung up by the arms, her position reminiscent of ancient crucifixion. The disrespect was evident not just in the horrific wayshe’d been left to die, but in the carvings on her skin. Each cut, surgically precise, was accentuated with a trail of dried blood, the garish result making her look more like a battered doll than a human being.
His sister. Bree.
White-hot rage ripped through him, the pain doubled by the feeling of impotence. Nothing he’d done had mattered. He hadn’t been fast enough. And now the bastard behind this… this carnage was out there somewhere, waiting to do it all over again.
He reached up to touch her face, ignoring the tech trying to shoo him away, praying that somehow he’d wake up and find it all a dream. His fingers touched the cold flesh of her cheek, and
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