Page 73 of Frost and Venom

“I loved everything Sherlock Holmes and read every story a hundred times,” Harlow told him. “There was one story titled ‘The Speckled Band.’ Do you remember that one, Wilder?”

“Absolutely.”

“I always thought it was fascinating,” Harlow said. “Rainier, in the story, someone would be staying in the house and end up dying a mysterious, shocking death. It turned out that the man who owned the house had a snake he had trained to do his bidding. There was a way for the snake to get into the room next to its master’s. It would bite the victim, killing him or her, and then return at its master’s call. The master would reward it by feeding it.”

There was a short silence, and then Rainier shook his head. “I don’t know, Harlow. I suppose it would be possible for someone to have trained a venomous snake to kill for its food.”

“I know it sounds far-fetched,” Harlow said, “but I’m trying to find a way for a person to be orchestrating these killings.”

“Just because it’s unlikely doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” Wilder pointed out. “No one would ever have believed the ‘games’ my father played with human lives. Or how many people he killed just for the hell of it. He didn’t have a reason, but he still tortured and killed. The games he invented were macabre, straight out of a horror novel.”

“He’s right, Harlow,” Rainier said. “I agree with you that the idea is improbable, but I’ve seen some pretty crazy things in my life. People come up with all kinds of inventive ways to kill one another. A pet snake isn’t out of the realm of possibility.”

“How would the snake get out of a car unseen if people witnessed the accident?” Harlow asked. She’d felt a bit of a fool for advancing her snake theory, but now that the men hadn’t dismissed it as fanciful, she wanted to see if any of the puzzle pieces fit.

“I think in the chaos that wouldn’t be as difficult as you might think,” Wilder said. “If the killer was riding behind the vehicle or even helped facilitate the accident, he would be right there to recover the snake.”

“Here’s the other, and maybe biggest, problem with my theory,” Harlow said. “We have rattlesnakes here. More than one kind, but their bites and venom are recognizable. The reaction in the body is different from what we’re seeing in the victims. A rattlesnake bite is very distinctive. Look at Raine. The venom causes damage to skin tissue, destroying cells and affecting the circulatory system, causing internal hemorrhage.”

“Typically,” Rainier added, “we would see some similar symptoms, such as nausea, sweating, salivating, weakness, difficulty breathing.”

“Rattlesnake bites can be fatal,” Harlow added, “as I’m sure you’re well aware, Wilder, but it’s rare these days. A lot depends on where the victim was bitten, how sensitive they are to the venom and how quickly they get treatment.”

“The other thing to note,” Rainier continued, “is that in recent years, and no one knows why, the long-term side effects have increased in severity.”

“Is that why you’ve been worried someone has experimented with snakes to increase the strength of their venom? Or perhaps mutated it so it’s unrecognizable and therefore fatal?” Wilder asked.

“It can’t be a rattlesnake,” Harlow said. “We have far too much experience to mistake the bite for anything else.”

Rainier stood up slowly and stretched. “I need to get home. I didn’t call in Rafferty’s death. He won’t show up for work, and someone will go looking for him. They’ll find him. There won’t be a trace leading back to me. In any case, I don’t think the ME is going to find out anything new when she autopsies his body, even if she had it immediately.”

Harlow was certain he was right. They didn’t seem to be making any progress finding the toxin. She was absolutely certain it was a bite, not a virus of some kind. The fang marks were distinctive. And Rainier had said Rafferty had three distinct places where the fangs had struck him. She made a mental note to ask Raine if any of the other victims had been bitten more than once.

Rainier exited the room in his very silent way. Harlow had the urge to jump up and watch to see if he floated. It wouldn’t have surprised her.

“Do they teach that to you?”

“Teach what?”

“Having some kind of air cushion between you and the floor so no one can hear you. I’d think it was special shoes, but you do it even when you’re barefoot.”

Wilder laughed and slid off the bed. “Let’s get something to eat and sit outside in the swing.” He held out his hand to her.

Harlow particularly loved her porch and the swing, so she readily allowed him to pull her out of the bed. “Give me a minute to put on something warm.”

He sent her a quick grin. “I’ll keep you warm.”

She waved her fingers at him as if shooing him away. “You’d better get something warm on. Nights are cold, and you always run around without a shirt.”

“Impressing you.”

Deliberately, she rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you have to suffer in the cold in order to impress me. I like a man with brains enough not to freeze.”

“It just so happens that I run hot.”

His smirk was endearing. Boyish. He seemed to be able to melt her heart so easily. She found herself laughing. Happy. She wasn’t even certain why when they’d just been discussing such a serious subject. When someone she knew had been killed, most likely murdered. It made no sense at all that she would feel so happy just looking at Wilder. Just seeing that smirk. Those eyes that always seem to be so intently watching her with such love. Love. That was it. She never thought she would have that for herself. She never thought it was possible for a man to know her. To see her. To fall in love with the real Harlow Frye, failings and all.

Wilder was extraordinary. He always gave her the feeling of being respected, even admired. He surrounded her with comfort and safety. She didn’t know how it had happened, but she was determined to make it work. But…she had to address certain things that bothered her. She couldn’t just pretend to accept things she didn’t like. Once she started hiding the truth from him for fear of losing him, she knew she had already lost. She had to be honest with him.