Read Online Hotter Than Helltown: An Urban Fantasy Mystery (Preternatural Affairs Book 3) by S.M. Reine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: S.M. Reine
Ads: Link
swimming or jogging.
That was all I could tell about the way he had been before he died.
His eyeballs had been plucked out. The sockets were empty. Fingers had smeared the blood up his forehead, pushed it through his hair. His earlobes had been ripped off, cut off, I wasn’t sure. Hard to tell from that angle.
The blue shirt had been shoved up to reveal his nipples, and there was a pit in his stomach where the killer had gone under the ribs to remove the heart. That was where all the blood came from. This guy hadn’t been drained from his throat like the first one. Probably not enough time for that.
Judging by the staining on his body, it wasn’t just his heart that had been cut out. His dick had been removed, too.
“It’s so different.” Suzy yanked on her gloves. “But it’s the same. The cuts are similar.” She pushed her fingers between the victim’s lips, probing his mouth. “The teeth are gone again, too.”
She sat back on her heels, elbows resting on her knees, and glared at that body.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.
“Fuck,” Suzy said. She stripped her gloves off. Wiped her hand over her forehead.
She didn’t want to say it, so I did.
“I think this is a serial killer.”
The murder in the boiler room was a hell of a lot sloppier than Jay Brandon’s, and that was saying a lot, considering that the killer had dragged Brandon between rooms, hung him up by his ankles, and let him bleed out.
Once I adjusted to the horror of what I was seeing—or at least the shock of it—I started assembling events in my head.
This hadn’t been a fight. There was no real sign of a struggle. Whoever had taken down nurse John Sullivan had probably taken him by surprise and then overpowered him by sheer strength.
It was only sloppy because the killer had been in a rush.
He must have already been going to the boiler room for something. An illicit smoke break, I was guessing, since a pack of bloodstained cigarettes rested a few inches from his hand.
The murderer had taken him on the stairs. Pushed him to the floor, flipped him onto his back, and held him down. Sullivan would have initially been too stunned from his fall to fight back.
By the time his head cleared, it would have been too late.
I imagined Nurse Sullivan screaming as a demon jammed its clawed thumbs into his eye sockets. I imagined the murderer keeping one hand on the nurse’s face to hold him down as the knife dug underneath his breastbone. I imagined the sickening pop as the heart’s ligaments tore free and how everything must have slurped as the demon withdrew his hand, organ and all.
With all the blood in Nurse Sullivan’s hair, I thought that the killer must have been petting him as he died.
He was just a victim. This was just my job. That was it.
God, it was hot in that basement.
“I think I found his earlobes,” Suzy said from behind the boiler. I could only see the right-hand sliver of her face lit up by her penlight, reflecting in her brown irises, painting her skin LED-blue.
Janet from forensics immediately took a plastic bag over to Suzy to collect the evidence. I didn’t join them. I could imagine what a pair of severed earlobes would look like, and that was bad enough on its own.
“Double ought gauge,” Janet said. “I’m surprised they allowed this at a hospital.”
My curiosity was too much. I leaned around and glimpsed Janet tweezing a piece of flesh encircling a glass ring into a bag.
“Piercings?” I asked.
“Big ones,” Suzy said.
“What do you think, Agent Hawke?” I turned to see Fritz Friederling striding into the basement, leather briefcase tucked under one arm.
Surprise rolled over me. Fritz didn’t come to crime scenes. He sat behind a desk, attended meetings, filled out paperwork. The only time I’d ever seen him on the scene of a crime had been to rescue Isobel and me from incubi, and that had been pretty dire.
I couldn’t help but peer up the stairs to see if Isobel
That was all I could tell about the way he had been before he died.
His eyeballs had been plucked out. The sockets were empty. Fingers had smeared the blood up his forehead, pushed it through his hair. His earlobes had been ripped off, cut off, I wasn’t sure. Hard to tell from that angle.
The blue shirt had been shoved up to reveal his nipples, and there was a pit in his stomach where the killer had gone under the ribs to remove the heart. That was where all the blood came from. This guy hadn’t been drained from his throat like the first one. Probably not enough time for that.
Judging by the staining on his body, it wasn’t just his heart that had been cut out. His dick had been removed, too.
“It’s so different.” Suzy yanked on her gloves. “But it’s the same. The cuts are similar.” She pushed her fingers between the victim’s lips, probing his mouth. “The teeth are gone again, too.”
She sat back on her heels, elbows resting on her knees, and glared at that body.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.
“Fuck,” Suzy said. She stripped her gloves off. Wiped her hand over her forehead.
She didn’t want to say it, so I did.
“I think this is a serial killer.”
The murder in the boiler room was a hell of a lot sloppier than Jay Brandon’s, and that was saying a lot, considering that the killer had dragged Brandon between rooms, hung him up by his ankles, and let him bleed out.
Once I adjusted to the horror of what I was seeing—or at least the shock of it—I started assembling events in my head.
This hadn’t been a fight. There was no real sign of a struggle. Whoever had taken down nurse John Sullivan had probably taken him by surprise and then overpowered him by sheer strength.
It was only sloppy because the killer had been in a rush.
He must have already been going to the boiler room for something. An illicit smoke break, I was guessing, since a pack of bloodstained cigarettes rested a few inches from his hand.
The murderer had taken him on the stairs. Pushed him to the floor, flipped him onto his back, and held him down. Sullivan would have initially been too stunned from his fall to fight back.
By the time his head cleared, it would have been too late.
I imagined Nurse Sullivan screaming as a demon jammed its clawed thumbs into his eye sockets. I imagined the murderer keeping one hand on the nurse’s face to hold him down as the knife dug underneath his breastbone. I imagined the sickening pop as the heart’s ligaments tore free and how everything must have slurped as the demon withdrew his hand, organ and all.
With all the blood in Nurse Sullivan’s hair, I thought that the killer must have been petting him as he died.
He was just a victim. This was just my job. That was it.
God, it was hot in that basement.
“I think I found his earlobes,” Suzy said from behind the boiler. I could only see the right-hand sliver of her face lit up by her penlight, reflecting in her brown irises, painting her skin LED-blue.
Janet from forensics immediately took a plastic bag over to Suzy to collect the evidence. I didn’t join them. I could imagine what a pair of severed earlobes would look like, and that was bad enough on its own.
“Double ought gauge,” Janet said. “I’m surprised they allowed this at a hospital.”
My curiosity was too much. I leaned around and glimpsed Janet tweezing a piece of flesh encircling a glass ring into a bag.
“Piercings?” I asked.
“Big ones,” Suzy said.
“What do you think, Agent Hawke?” I turned to see Fritz Friederling striding into the basement, leather briefcase tucked under one arm.
Surprise rolled over me. Fritz didn’t come to crime scenes. He sat behind a desk, attended meetings, filled out paperwork. The only time I’d ever seen him on the scene of a crime had been to rescue Isobel and me from incubi, and that had been pretty dire.
I couldn’t help but peer up the stairs to see if Isobel
Similar Books
