AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Okay, I need to talk to some of the others,” her mother said. “Find out if anyone else got a look at the body.”
Bianca’s stomach turned over as she thought of the corpse still lying in the creek. She swallowed hard and didn’t let her mind wander too far to what had happened to the girl.
Her mother urged, “Let’s go.”
“Fine.” Reluctantly, Bianca climbed out of the Jeep and saw that Santana was out of his truck in an instant, as if he’d gotten the high sign from Mom, or more likely been watching like a hawk. He acted as if he was going to do something stupid like try to help her, so she shouted, “I’m okay!” before he touched her, then hobbled her way over to Santana’s pickup, wincing with each step. Still, she made it and was able to climb into the passenger seat and roll down the window unaided.
“Really, how ya doin’?” Santana asked as he stood next to the cab.
“How do ya think?” she tossed back, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. “Just super.”
He lifted one dark eyebrow and she felt immediate remorse. “I just want to get out of here. To go home,” she muttered.
“Okay. I’ll be right back. Just want to get a couple of things straight with your mom.”
“Perfect.” She waited in the passenger seat of her stepfather’s battered pickup and listened to the sounds of the night.
Over the drone of insects and a frog croaking somewhere she heard the voices of kids being interviewed, the rumble of engines and crunch of tires as more parents or guardians arrived. Bianca also caught pieces of the conversation between Santana and her mother as they stood in front of the pickup’s grill. Regan was filling him in and giving instructions. “Bianca . . . body . . . unconfirmed but working on it . . . a girl reported missing. . . some kind of one-eyed monster . . . I know . . . crazy . . . shock probably . . . check it out at the hospital with the ankle. Yeah, it’ll be a while. Take her home . . . I know. I’ll call him.”
Dad, she thought from the tone of her mother’s voice. The only other “him” they could be talking about, she thought, was her brother, Jeremy, but her mom didn’t talk about him the same way. Surprisingly, she wished Jeremy were here. As much as he’d bugged her while they were growing up, now she missed him.
Bianca closed her eyes, felt the heat of the summer night against her skin, and wondered what the hell she’d seen in the woods. A wild animal? A kid dressed up like a monster—but who? And how? And why? Or something else? The skin on the back of her arms prickled as she considered the options. Possibly something otherworldly. Lately she’d been reading a lot of books with paranormal themes, about ghosts and ESP, and vampires. She’d even gone through a zombie phase and the truth was, she did believe in an alternate universe, one few could see. But she probably shouldn’t mention ghosts or wraiths because it would only freak out her seeing-is-believing mother.
Again, the image of the dead girl came to mind, and she tried like crazy to think of anything else.
But it was no use. As the old driver’s-side door opened with a creak and Santana climbed behind the steering wheel, her mind wandered back to that moment when she’d touched what she’d thought was a stick but had turned out to be a bone with rotting flesh still attached.
Acid climbed up her throat. “Wait!” she yelled and she shoved open the door and heaved, vomiting over the gravel and part of the truck’s door frame. Her stomach turned inside out, bile rising, the s
tench burning through her nostrils as she hurled again. When it was over, she spat, wished she could wash her mouth of the sour taste that lingered, then yanked the door shut and leaned against the back of the seat. Tears were hot in her eyes.
“You done?” Santana asked and reached into the glove box to pull out a box of Kleenex.
She didn’t know. “Yeah.” She plucked several tissues from the box and cleaned herself. “Let’s just go.” Though her eyes were closed, she couldn’t shake the image. Deeply embedded in her brain was the mental photograph of the dead girl’s mangled face, pale floating hair, and deep, empty eye sockets.
CHAPTER 4
Blackwater arrived at the scene.
“Bad news travels fast,” Pescoli said under her breath as she watched the acting sheriff’s Tahoe roar along the access road, headlights cutting through the darkness, dust rising in a plume behind the rear wheels. She just didn’t like the guy. Laid-back wasn’t in his vocabulary, and he was very big on agendas, meetings, and finding ways to “pump up” enthusiasm in everyone on the force. Pescoli didn’t need it. He also seemed to preen for the cameras, but Alvarez had told her she was overreacting, that Blackwater was just trying to use the press to the department’s advantage to solve cases.
Well, maybe.
But she still didn’t trust him.
He parked his SUV near a couple of cruisers, crossed under the crime-scene tape, and strode up to Pescoli. Just under six feet, with a compact, athletic body, short black hair, and intense hawkish eyes, he appeared as if he were still an active member of the Marine Corps, though he was dressed down for him in pressed jeans and an open-throated polo shirt, his usually clean-shaven jaw showing night stubble.
“What’ve we got?” he asked.
“Dead female. Possibly a girl reported missing since sometime last week, Friday, I think,” Pescoli said and gave him the rundown. As she spoke, he didn’t interrupt, but his eyes scanned the area. She figured he didn’t miss much.
“You interviewed everyone?”
“Almost done,” Pescoli said. She was still sweating, even in the coolest wee hours of the morning. “A couple of deputies are wrapping things up. Then we’re sending the kids home with their parents.”
“Any caught with alcohol?”
“Not in their hands. A couple of coolers, though,” Pescoli said.
