Read Online Malevolent (Lieutenant Kane series Book 1) by E.H. Reinhard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: E.H. Reinhard
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box and stood. He hopped from the couch to follow. His collar bell jingled as he bounded along at my feet. I tossed the slice into his dish. He gave it a sniff, looked at me, and then walked back to the couch.
I shook my head. “Stupid cat.” I would have been surprised if he’d eaten it. The only cat food he would eat was forty dollars a bag. He had a taste for the finer things in life. Greasy pizza wasn’t on the menu.
Two cab companies returned my call as the night progressed. Both had had fares coming from the airport around the time Sarah McMillian went missing, but neither went to the Imperial Suites, and neither was a female. I read over her entire file and all my notes again. My eyes began to strain. I decided they needed a little resting and leaned back into the couch.
A little after one in the morning, I woke up. The case would have to resume later. I was beat. A sleeping, purring ball of cat lay on my lap. I gave Butch a few pets on the head and then slipped him off my lap onto his couch pillow. He was a good cat when he wasn’t awake.
Sarah McMillian’s file was spread across my couch and coffee table. I gathered the papers up, tossed the file onto the kitchen table, and went to my bedroom. My shift wouldn’t start until nine, and I needed to get a good night’s sleep.
Chapter 12
It had been an hour and a half since he’d checked on her—he’d inserted an IV into her arm. Buprenorphine, a synthetic opiate, filled the drip bag. He had picked it up when he acquired the Xylazine to deal with his illness, but it was too strong for his tastes. Watered down, it could work to keep her docile when she awoke.
The lever to engage the deadbolt was on the outside of the door. He flipped it open and entered the bedroom. In his arms were fresh bandages. He closed the door behind him as he walked into the room. Diane Robins lay motionless. Straps across her chest and thighs secured her to the bed. He approached her from the side. She was still out. He grabbed her by the jaw and rocked her head back and forth to wake her. “You alive?”
She blinked her eyelids while she stared at the ceiling. Her face was blank.
He sat at the edge of the bed and shook her by the head again. “Can you hear me in there?”
She didn’t respond. A line of drool rolled from the side of her mouth.
He leaned over her and removed the bandages around her head. He examined his work. A small amount of blood was still seeping from the bottom of the sutures. He dabbed the blood away. She didn’t make any movement. He wrapped fresh dressings around her head and tossed the old ones out. He sat next to her on the bed. Her eyes rolled to the side. They stared at the wall.
“We’re going to do the other side in a bit.”
Her eyes shot to the right and focused on him. Unanticipated rage filled her face.
He glanced at her arm. The IV wasn’t there. He looked further down to see that the straps holding her to the bed were no longer attached to the bed frame. Her left arm flew up from her side, wielding the IV needle. She plunged it into his neck as he tried to spring up from the bed. He stumbled across the room and crashed into the closet doors before falling to the ground. His hands went to the side of his throat. He fumbled at the needle embedded in his neck. Blood was running from the open end.
Diane scrambled from the bed and got herself to her feet. She ran for the door. As she flung it open and attempted to flee, he caught her by the ankle. She kicked him in the face and rushed through the doorway.
He pulled the needle from his neck and tossed it on the bedroom carpet beside him. He was lucky it had missed everything vital. A half inch farther forward, and it would have punctured his jugular—two inches farther forward, and it would have hit his windpipe. He pulled himself to his feet and burst from the room after Diane. He could hear her running through the house. He found her at the glass patio door leading outside. She was
I shook my head. “Stupid cat.” I would have been surprised if he’d eaten it. The only cat food he would eat was forty dollars a bag. He had a taste for the finer things in life. Greasy pizza wasn’t on the menu.
Two cab companies returned my call as the night progressed. Both had had fares coming from the airport around the time Sarah McMillian went missing, but neither went to the Imperial Suites, and neither was a female. I read over her entire file and all my notes again. My eyes began to strain. I decided they needed a little resting and leaned back into the couch.
A little after one in the morning, I woke up. The case would have to resume later. I was beat. A sleeping, purring ball of cat lay on my lap. I gave Butch a few pets on the head and then slipped him off my lap onto his couch pillow. He was a good cat when he wasn’t awake.
Sarah McMillian’s file was spread across my couch and coffee table. I gathered the papers up, tossed the file onto the kitchen table, and went to my bedroom. My shift wouldn’t start until nine, and I needed to get a good night’s sleep.
Chapter 12
It had been an hour and a half since he’d checked on her—he’d inserted an IV into her arm. Buprenorphine, a synthetic opiate, filled the drip bag. He had picked it up when he acquired the Xylazine to deal with his illness, but it was too strong for his tastes. Watered down, it could work to keep her docile when she awoke.
The lever to engage the deadbolt was on the outside of the door. He flipped it open and entered the bedroom. In his arms were fresh bandages. He closed the door behind him as he walked into the room. Diane Robins lay motionless. Straps across her chest and thighs secured her to the bed. He approached her from the side. She was still out. He grabbed her by the jaw and rocked her head back and forth to wake her. “You alive?”
She blinked her eyelids while she stared at the ceiling. Her face was blank.
He sat at the edge of the bed and shook her by the head again. “Can you hear me in there?”
She didn’t respond. A line of drool rolled from the side of her mouth.
He leaned over her and removed the bandages around her head. He examined his work. A small amount of blood was still seeping from the bottom of the sutures. He dabbed the blood away. She didn’t make any movement. He wrapped fresh dressings around her head and tossed the old ones out. He sat next to her on the bed. Her eyes rolled to the side. They stared at the wall.
“We’re going to do the other side in a bit.”
Her eyes shot to the right and focused on him. Unanticipated rage filled her face.
He glanced at her arm. The IV wasn’t there. He looked further down to see that the straps holding her to the bed were no longer attached to the bed frame. Her left arm flew up from her side, wielding the IV needle. She plunged it into his neck as he tried to spring up from the bed. He stumbled across the room and crashed into the closet doors before falling to the ground. His hands went to the side of his throat. He fumbled at the needle embedded in his neck. Blood was running from the open end.
Diane scrambled from the bed and got herself to her feet. She ran for the door. As she flung it open and attempted to flee, he caught her by the ankle. She kicked him in the face and rushed through the doorway.
He pulled the needle from his neck and tossed it on the bedroom carpet beside him. He was lucky it had missed everything vital. A half inch farther forward, and it would have punctured his jugular—two inches farther forward, and it would have hit his windpipe. He pulled himself to his feet and burst from the room after Diane. He could hear her running through the house. He found her at the glass patio door leading outside. She was
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