Read Online Their Summer Heat by Kitty DuCane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kitty DuCane
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breathe slowly. It isn’t the end of the world. It’s just stuff.
But it was the end of Margo’s world.
She flinched. Why did her mind go there?
The detectives returned, tucking their guns into holsters.
“It’s clear,” said Detective Connors.
Summer stepped around Logan. “Well, I’d like to file a police report. Seems I’ve been vandalized.”
“There’s something else you should see, Miss Heat,” said Bates.
She followed him toward her bedroom, fear making her legs heavy. She didn’t want to look, but a herd of wild horses couldn’t keep her away. She stepped through the door, her gaze moving from left to right, stopping above her bed.
You belong to me!
The message had been scrawled in some kind of red liquid, and drips tracked down the wall. Please, please, please, don’t let it be blood. Summer stood frozen, rooted in time, her heart racing, threatening to explode. She wanted to move her feet, run from the mayhem and never look back, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate.
Logan snagged her arm, folded her into his chest. Wrapping her arms around him, she tried to suck the heat from his body. Her frantic mind searched for a logical reason why someone would do this to her. Until two days ago, she’d been a nobody. She could count all her New York friends on one hand—even with a couple of fingers missing—and someone thought she belonged to them?
“Do you think her…eh…death is related to my break-in?” she asked.
“Definitely,” replied Detective Connors.
“How so?” asked Max.
“There was writing on her wall, too.” He pulled up a photo on his phone and handed it to her.
You’re not Summer Heat bitch
This message also leaked red.
“So, who would call you a bitch?” asked Bates.
Summer studied the photo. The handwriting was the same jerky, creepy scrawl. “Margo called me a bitch.”
Max cursed, but he didn’t know that all Margo’s friends had witnessed Margo’s statement and would no doubt tell the detectives all about it, so telling the truth was the only option.
Connors took the phone from her and handed it to Max. “So Miss Heat, where were you between two and five a.m.?”
“In bed…with Logan…and Max. I spent the night in Logan’s penthouse atop of Preston Real Estate.”
Her cheeks burned. Even though she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole, there was no point in trying to hide the truth. A woman had lost her life. Summer wasn’t ashamed of what she had done, just didn’t want anyone to know about it.
Detective Connors turned to Logan and Max. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” they both replied.
“You can have full access to the video footage,” said Logan. “But it only covers the egresses and the front lobby.”
“About the note on Margo’s wall, I think it’s callin’ her a bitch instead of me.”
Bates frowned. “How do you figure, Miss Heat?”
“Dependin’ on how grammar savvy this person is, if he’d put a comma after Heat, he…or she would be callin’ her a bitch.”
He cocked his head to the side, as if shifting brain matter would help him comprehend.
“If you replace bitch with Margo and add a comma, you get you’re not Summer Heat comma Margo.”
Bates rolled in his lips. “Maybe.”
“Just a thought,” she offered. Hell, she had no idea what the demented mind had meant.
“How was Margo killed?” asked Max.
“With a knife,” Summer replied.
Four sets of male eyes zeroed in on her.
Max scowled. “Honey, can you keep your mouth shut?”
“Eh, sorry. I said that because he or she has shredded everythin’ in my apartment, includin’ my bed and my clothes, with somethin’ extremely sharp. If it’s the same person, they wouldn’t have changed weapons.”
“Actually, she was knifed several times, but she died from a broken neck.”
“Well, that action suggests either a strong, highly trained woman or just a strong man,” she offered.
Both detectives arched a brow.
“And how do you
But it was the end of Margo’s world.
She flinched. Why did her mind go there?
The detectives returned, tucking their guns into holsters.
“It’s clear,” said Detective Connors.
Summer stepped around Logan. “Well, I’d like to file a police report. Seems I’ve been vandalized.”
“There’s something else you should see, Miss Heat,” said Bates.
She followed him toward her bedroom, fear making her legs heavy. She didn’t want to look, but a herd of wild horses couldn’t keep her away. She stepped through the door, her gaze moving from left to right, stopping above her bed.
You belong to me!
The message had been scrawled in some kind of red liquid, and drips tracked down the wall. Please, please, please, don’t let it be blood. Summer stood frozen, rooted in time, her heart racing, threatening to explode. She wanted to move her feet, run from the mayhem and never look back, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate.
Logan snagged her arm, folded her into his chest. Wrapping her arms around him, she tried to suck the heat from his body. Her frantic mind searched for a logical reason why someone would do this to her. Until two days ago, she’d been a nobody. She could count all her New York friends on one hand—even with a couple of fingers missing—and someone thought she belonged to them?
“Do you think her…eh…death is related to my break-in?” she asked.
“Definitely,” replied Detective Connors.
“How so?” asked Max.
“There was writing on her wall, too.” He pulled up a photo on his phone and handed it to her.
You’re not Summer Heat bitch
This message also leaked red.
“So, who would call you a bitch?” asked Bates.
Summer studied the photo. The handwriting was the same jerky, creepy scrawl. “Margo called me a bitch.”
Max cursed, but he didn’t know that all Margo’s friends had witnessed Margo’s statement and would no doubt tell the detectives all about it, so telling the truth was the only option.
Connors took the phone from her and handed it to Max. “So Miss Heat, where were you between two and five a.m.?”
“In bed…with Logan…and Max. I spent the night in Logan’s penthouse atop of Preston Real Estate.”
Her cheeks burned. Even though she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole, there was no point in trying to hide the truth. A woman had lost her life. Summer wasn’t ashamed of what she had done, just didn’t want anyone to know about it.
Detective Connors turned to Logan and Max. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” they both replied.
“You can have full access to the video footage,” said Logan. “But it only covers the egresses and the front lobby.”
“About the note on Margo’s wall, I think it’s callin’ her a bitch instead of me.”
Bates frowned. “How do you figure, Miss Heat?”
“Dependin’ on how grammar savvy this person is, if he’d put a comma after Heat, he…or she would be callin’ her a bitch.”
He cocked his head to the side, as if shifting brain matter would help him comprehend.
“If you replace bitch with Margo and add a comma, you get you’re not Summer Heat comma Margo.”
Bates rolled in his lips. “Maybe.”
“Just a thought,” she offered. Hell, she had no idea what the demented mind had meant.
“How was Margo killed?” asked Max.
“With a knife,” Summer replied.
Four sets of male eyes zeroed in on her.
Max scowled. “Honey, can you keep your mouth shut?”
“Eh, sorry. I said that because he or she has shredded everythin’ in my apartment, includin’ my bed and my clothes, with somethin’ extremely sharp. If it’s the same person, they wouldn’t have changed weapons.”
“Actually, she was knifed several times, but she died from a broken neck.”
“Well, that action suggests either a strong, highly trained woman or just a strong man,” she offered.
Both detectives arched a brow.
“And how do you
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