She locked the bathroom door and turned the water in the shower to hot.
She stared at her hands ... at her legs.
The list of bloodborne pathogens she might have been exposed to paraded through her brain.
Not to mention that if it was human blood, there could be a body around here somewhere.
She climbed beneath the hot spray and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin felt raw. Memories from that night on the street, of the boy who’d bled out, kept flashing in her head. Then images of Shelley ...
CJ couldn’t bear it—had to block the horror. Had to get the blood off!
When she’d thoroughly scrubbed her hair, her face, and every inch of her body, she braced her hands against the damp tile and fought a wave of nausea.
What was she doing here?
How was anything she attempted going to help solve her sister’s murder?
She was no cop.
Maybe Edward was right about that too. She was risking her future, her life ...
For what?
To make up for not being here to prevent her sister’s murder?
Chapter Twenty-Six
2204 Clopton Street, 7:55 a.m.
Braddock lowered to a crouch to inspect the body. “Looks like old Satan had himself a feast.”
“To say the least.” Cooper sat back on her haunches and surveyed the nude body. “I hope he was dead before the dog got to that part.” Cooper heaved a sigh. “Such a waste. Banks was cute ... before his dog decided to take a few bites out of crime.”
Ricky Banks lay sprawled on his kitchen floor in a position that could only be labeled crucifixion style. His hands had been screwed to the floor with six 4-inch wood screws straight through each palm. Each screw had been fortified with a large diameter washer to prevent him pulling his hands free. What appeared to be a man’s belt had been cut in half and used to secure his ankles to the floor with the same type screws. His pet, Satan, had ripped out, and apparently eaten, a good portion of his throat, some of the chest area, including a nipple, and most of his manhood. Blood had pooled and coagulated on the floor beneath him. Arterial spray had covered the mutt and splattered around the room. The smell of blood and excrement was thick in the air.
“Where’s the dog?” Cooper glanced up at her partner. Braddock had arrived on the scene five minutes or so before Cooper. AnimalControl had just secured the animal and taken it away minutes before Cooper arrived.
“Animal Control rounded him up.”
“I’ll bet that was a challenge.” Cooper leaned down. “What’s this?”
Braddock moved to her side of the body and got down on his hands and knees to get close enough to see the small marks in question. “Taser marks.” He pushed back into a crouch. “Guess that’s how the perp disabled him.”
“But that wouldn’t last more than a few minutes. This”—she gestured to the body’s positioning—“took some time. I’ll bet he was drugged at some point.” She leaned close again to inspect the body. “Probably a needle mark around here somewhere.”
“Braddock! Take a look at this.”
One of the officers, Larry Metcalf, who’d responded to the neighbor’s call about a disturbance, poked his head in the back door, motioning for Braddock to come out to the yard.
He and Cooper exchanged a look, stood simultaneously, and headed to the backyard. The second officer who’d responded to the call was interviewing the neighbors. The forensics folks were sweeping the house and the yard, which had already been cordoned off as a crime scene. The entire property was considered part of the scene for now.
Officer Metcalf led the way to a large tree in the center of the backyard. “What do you make of this?”
A piece of meat hung from one of the limbs.
“It’s a pork shoulder,” Cooper said as she walked around the dangling chunk. “Looks to be intact.” She visually measured the distance from the ground. “Must’ve been just out of Satan’s reach.”
“Might be part of some sick training ritual.” Braddock had seen these guys wrap massive log chains around a young rottweiler’s or pit bull’s neck to build muscle mass.
