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“Relax,” I say, restraining from touching her. “Let me be the one to take you there. Just like that. Let me…”
She sits forward. Pushes her dress back down her legs. “Shit. I need to go.”
“Wait.” I almost reach out for her, but I stop mid-air. My hand balling into a tight fist. “Don’t run. This is what comes next. Let yourself experience it.”
She shakes her head, shame creasing the tight corners of her eyes. “It always pulls me under,” she says. At my confused expression, she clarifies, “The darkness. It’s always there…with the cries. I don’t deserve the freedom you’re offering. That’s not why I’m here.”
Then she’s gone before I can demand to know more, my beautiful goddess vanishing as quickly as she appeared. And, oh—I’m so tempted to give chase and beg her to welcome me into her darkness.
I close my eyes, slip my hand into my pocket, and caress the rough cord to drive away the coldness encasing me in my own dark, hollow space.
She will understand that there’s no reason to hide from me, no reason to be ashamed—I appreciate her fear more than any other soul. Soothed, I open my eyes. I won’t be able to wait until she appears next in my world before I see her again.
The desire to follow her thrums through me with vicious abandon.
3
Lovers’ Waltz
Sadie
The camphor ointment under my nose does little to mask the smell of burning flesh. I’ve gotten used to the awful scents of the M.E.’s lab over the years, but Avery was just in the middle of cauterizing a body when I entered through the double doors.
That’s a tasty smell no one can get used to.
“Piper McKenna,” Avery says, securing her hairband tighter around her thick blond ponytail as she delves into the facts about the victim. “Twenty-six. Healthy and in excellent shape, except for some unsightly mucus on the lungs, denoting she was a recovering smoker. But otherwise, no real vices.”
I twist my lips, trying to keep from scratching at the itch on my nose. “Sexual assault?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I can’t confirm. She did have sex prior to her death, only it could’ve been consensual…or forced.”
“You’re right, that’s not what I want to hear.” I sigh. I spent most of Sunday researching the victim so that I’d have a head start when I heard from Avery—but I’m still waiting for something to connect.
The vic kept to herself. She was new to the city. No family in the area. She once went out with a couple of co-workers from her place of employment—a local gym—to catch a movie, and she’d recently started dating the guy who called in her murder. The reason he was there Saturday morning, according to Quinn’s interview, was that they’d had plans to work out together.
She could’ve been sleeping with him…or not. Based on her rigorous schedule and almost OCD-like qualities, she didn’t leave much room for a social life. Her daily routine was mapped out like clockwork. Like my life, really.
I suppress the desire to think about him. Burying myself in work yesterday didn’t help. Nor did the trip to The Lair help to sate my thirst—but hearing his voice, his tempting words… A pang hits my chest and hitches my breathing. I push the unwanted thoughts deeper, past my subconscious where they belong.
“Nothing more specific?” I ask, hoping the M.E. can help me link the pieces.
“Sorry. I can only say for sure that there was no sexual trauma.”
“So what’s our proof that she had sex, then?”
Avery holds my gaze. “Trace evidence. He used a condom. Which means no seminal fluids for a DNA test, obviously. But like I said, no trauma means the sex could’ve been consensual prior to the attack.” She pulls the white sheet back to reveal the victim’s torso. “Cause of death was exsanguination due to a deep laceration to her neck. The carotid artery, more precisely.”
I nod. “Blood loss. Any idea as to what kind of weapon that was used?”
At this, Avery presses her pink lips into a hard line. Using a gloved hand, she points along the victim’s neck. “A very large knife,” she states. I raise my eyebrows, prompting her on. “At first, I was leaning toward some kind of hunting knife as opposed to an ordinary straight blade.”
“But now…?”
“Now, I’m not confident in that theory. See here”—she applies light pressure to the neck, opening up the clean wound. “Most hunting knifes have a serrated edge that wo
uld have torn the skin. Though one would be sharp enough and have no problem cutting this deeply, this is too clean a laceration. The blade that was used was blunt and almost…waved. The pattern has a curvature to it…it’s odd, I know. And the perpetrator would’ve had to use a lot of force to cut this deeply.” She frowns. “A thick, blunt blade that hit bone.”
Not a difficult feat for someone with enough sadistic rage, though. I tap out a note on my tablet. “Strength was definitely needed, then. So the UNSUB was most likely a man.” I glance up. “Just to confirm.”
