Page 64 of Beneath the Quiet

If I want to get Aidan unstuck from underneath my skin, there’s only one way to do it.

Chapter Seventeen

Maeve

Ilock my door, mind already halfway on work. I turn on the step and heft my bag on my shoulder, but when my eyes fall on a furry bundle halfway up my pathway, I freeze. A sense of foreboding settles like lead, and I swallow the dryness in my throat and force my limbs to obey me. To move closer to whatever creature it is that’s no longer alive right on my doorstep.

I swallow the bile down and take a cautious step closer to the bloody mess. I widen the perimeter to circle it. My eyes flicker between the ground and the mauled, headless, black-spotted chicken, and when I glimpse a note pinned with a pocketknife into the chest of the poor thing, I narrow my eyes. A red-hot haze settles briefly on my eyesight, and flames coil, my temper rising, and I have to sit down on my haunches to get myself under control. I take one deep breath after another, and once I feel it’s safe for me to talk, I pick up my phone and call my boss.

“O’Neill.”

“Sir.” I clear my throat. “I need to request a forensic team, please.”

“What’s happened?”

“I…” I raise my eyes, needing to look away from the blood. “I need a team to come to my cottage, and I need them to bring everything to secure my passageway. Someone’s left me a bloodied present on my doorstep during the night, and I don’t want to contaminate the scene more than I already have.”

“What? Never mind,” he bites out, “I’ll be with you soon, along with the team you need.”

He hangs up on me, and I put my phone back in my pocket as I wait for the team to get here.

A ball of nerves settles in the pit of my stomach, I close my eyes, and I count to ease the nausea.

O’Neill stands next to me, hands resting on his hips and his mouth set in a grim line. The small team set to work the moment they arrived, putting numbers here and there all the way from my fence and up the path.

“Fuck, Gallagher. Who did you piss off?”

“I’ve asked myself the same question since I saw it, Sir, and there’s only one person that comes to mind.”

Sarah passes us, the evidence bag holding the mutilated chicken inside it, and I unclench my hands as my stomach twists for what feels like the millionth time since I saw the gruesome sight this morning.

I glance at O’Neill. He rubs a hand across his mouth, eyes narrowed.

“Well, you know how it goes. You need to make a formal statement down at the station, preferably sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah, I’ll head over there now.” I shake my head. “I appreciate you coming. I-uh…I didn’t expect it.”

He makes a motion with his hand and looks away.

“Don’t mention it.” I nod, grateful that he came to my side today despite us being strangers. We turn away from the team still working and walk towards the entrance.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on the note pinned to the poor thing?”

He pulls out his black notebook and hands it to me. I steel my spine and force my trembling fingers to steady as I turn the pages. I school my face not to give anything away as I read the words.

“Watch yourself, Maeve.”

“Wow.” I close the book. I hand it back to my boss, not shying away from his probing gaze. “I guess I’m not everybody’s cup of tea, but still…”

O’Neill purses his lips and sniffles.

“It may be a good idea to walk down memory lane for the rest of the day, Gallagher. Think back on your cases. Maybe you pissed someone off but didn’t know it at the time? Who knows? It could be a prank.”

“No, Sir. Whoever wrote this took great effort in putting my name on it. This is personal. I can feel it.”

He pulls at his earlobe.

“Yeah, it smells that way.” He jerks his chin at the team. “I’ll check in with Dublin, see if there’s any news about Joe. He hasn’t contacted you?”