Read Online Live and Lime Die: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 8 by Summer Prescott - Free Book Online
Authors: Summer Prescott
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matched the tranquilizers in his system and in the girl’s that he
was with, but here’s the kicker. They weren’t his meds, they belonged to a
chick he worked for, Jenna Winston. We also looked at the footage taken from
the cameras in the parking lot at the hospital, and even though it was dark, we
caught a glimpse of the…woman who shot Cort,” he said grimly. “The only thing
that we could tell for sure was that she had red hair – it flashed briefly
under the one small streetlight that’s out there.”
Ferguson’s
eyes widened as a new revelation hit him. “Red hairs were found on the victim,
he was shot with the same caliber gun that got Cort, and I just saw video of
someone, who was tiny enough to have been a woman, using two big guys to take
the victim off of the commercial docks and follow her,” he put it all together.
“I think we’ve got a double-trouble perp on our hands,” he nodded. “Let’s bring
her in. Now,” he ordered.
“That’s
a problem…” the officer hesitated.
“Why
is that a problem?” Ferguson’s eyes narrowed.
“The
Winston yacht pulled out over an hour ago, and she wasn’t on it, we checked.
She’s gone missing – told her dad that she wanted to hang out on the island for
a few days and relax. I can put an APB out on her, but so far, we don’t even
know where to start looking.
Chapter 17
Jenna
had dated a wide variety of men in her lifetime and had used many more as
playmates. To say that she was well-versed in manipulation would be the
understatement of the year. She’d kept company with more than her share of
doctors, always seeming to end up frustrated with their lack of availability to
her, so she was eerily comfortable in a hospital environment. She’d been snuck
into more on-call rooms, dressing areas and empty offices than she could
recall, and knew her way around all of the systems, rules and regulations that
were in place to protect the unsuspecting public from folks like her.
Her
favorites had been the coma patients. After a quick tryst with a resident, or
an attending, she’d slip into a dressing room, don some scrubs, pull out her
fake name tag, and head for the patient rooms. She found the human body
fascinating, and chocked up her activities to research. It was interesting to
her, how a body in a vegetative state would still gasp if its oxygen was
blocked, and how easily it would seize, sometimes never recovering, if a large
enough syringe of air was pumped into an IV line.
Death
fascinated her, and when she really thirsted for a peak experience, she’d turn
off all of the machines that would announce a patient’s impending demise with
unnecessary beeps and squeaks and alarms, so that she could watch the process
of death, uninterrupted. Hospitals weren’t the only places that she’d get her
fix for pain, torture and death, but they were a treasure trove of potential
victims.
She
wouldn’t be idly perusing the selection of candidates tonight, however. There
was vengeance to be had, and she was intent upon exacting it. Perhaps after her
work was done, she’d look for some recreational pain, depending upon how long
her mission took.
It
was just after 8 a.m., so morning rounds would be over, and breakfast would be
served, even for patients who would be going home today, because paperwork
typically didn’t make it up to the various nurses stations until at least ten,
so her best bet would be to pose as a cafeteria worker in order to get up to
the ward, then she could pull out her nurse credentials once inside.
The
stacks of hundred dollar bills that she carried in her bag ensured that the
hospitality worker with whom she traded clothing would be cooperative, and the
information and access key that the delighted young worker bee had provided was
priceless. Jenna was on her way up to the seventh floor in the utility elevator
faster than one could shake a stick. She had a sinister little smile on her
face, knowing that her satisfaction was
was with, but here’s the kicker. They weren’t his meds, they belonged to a
chick he worked for, Jenna Winston. We also looked at the footage taken from
the cameras in the parking lot at the hospital, and even though it was dark, we
caught a glimpse of the…woman who shot Cort,” he said grimly. “The only thing
that we could tell for sure was that she had red hair – it flashed briefly
under the one small streetlight that’s out there.”
Ferguson’s
eyes widened as a new revelation hit him. “Red hairs were found on the victim,
he was shot with the same caliber gun that got Cort, and I just saw video of
someone, who was tiny enough to have been a woman, using two big guys to take
the victim off of the commercial docks and follow her,” he put it all together.
“I think we’ve got a double-trouble perp on our hands,” he nodded. “Let’s bring
her in. Now,” he ordered.
“That’s
a problem…” the officer hesitated.
“Why
is that a problem?” Ferguson’s eyes narrowed.
“The
Winston yacht pulled out over an hour ago, and she wasn’t on it, we checked.
She’s gone missing – told her dad that she wanted to hang out on the island for
a few days and relax. I can put an APB out on her, but so far, we don’t even
know where to start looking.
Chapter 17
Jenna
had dated a wide variety of men in her lifetime and had used many more as
playmates. To say that she was well-versed in manipulation would be the
understatement of the year. She’d kept company with more than her share of
doctors, always seeming to end up frustrated with their lack of availability to
her, so she was eerily comfortable in a hospital environment. She’d been snuck
into more on-call rooms, dressing areas and empty offices than she could
recall, and knew her way around all of the systems, rules and regulations that
were in place to protect the unsuspecting public from folks like her.
Her
favorites had been the coma patients. After a quick tryst with a resident, or
an attending, she’d slip into a dressing room, don some scrubs, pull out her
fake name tag, and head for the patient rooms. She found the human body
fascinating, and chocked up her activities to research. It was interesting to
her, how a body in a vegetative state would still gasp if its oxygen was
blocked, and how easily it would seize, sometimes never recovering, if a large
enough syringe of air was pumped into an IV line.
Death
fascinated her, and when she really thirsted for a peak experience, she’d turn
off all of the machines that would announce a patient’s impending demise with
unnecessary beeps and squeaks and alarms, so that she could watch the process
of death, uninterrupted. Hospitals weren’t the only places that she’d get her
fix for pain, torture and death, but they were a treasure trove of potential
victims.
She
wouldn’t be idly perusing the selection of candidates tonight, however. There
was vengeance to be had, and she was intent upon exacting it. Perhaps after her
work was done, she’d look for some recreational pain, depending upon how long
her mission took.
It
was just after 8 a.m., so morning rounds would be over, and breakfast would be
served, even for patients who would be going home today, because paperwork
typically didn’t make it up to the various nurses stations until at least ten,
so her best bet would be to pose as a cafeteria worker in order to get up to
the ward, then she could pull out her nurse credentials once inside.
The
stacks of hundred dollar bills that she carried in her bag ensured that the
hospitality worker with whom she traded clothing would be cooperative, and the
information and access key that the delighted young worker bee had provided was
priceless. Jenna was on her way up to the seventh floor in the utility elevator
faster than one could shake a stick. She had a sinister little smile on her
face, knowing that her satisfaction was
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