AllFreeNovel
Share Us
With a grunt of disappointment, I turn on my heels and make my way back toward Aubree as our transport van slowly pulls through the horde of reporters. The driver has to take extra care, or he’ll mow down a whole bunch of people on live television.
Running them down so early in the morning just isn’t a good look.
When Aubree’s eyes stop on mine, she pushes up to stand and removes her gloves. “Bagged, tagged, recorded, and as you can see, I called transpo. Estimated time of death sits around seven o’clock last night, though I could be out by an hour, plus or minus.”
“It works,” I acknowledge. “Close enough. And it means he got her before he took out Kiera. Let’s move her back to the George Stanley, then I want to hit up Doctor Raquel and see what pops up in Jane Doe’s blood.”
“Alright. We’ll toss fingerprints over to the detectives?”
“Yup.”
I slyly peer over my shoulder, hoping not to be caught, but instead of finding the guys doing their job, I see Archer standing exactly where I left him, staring back at me with his hands on his hips and impatience burning in his eyes.
Sighing, I bring my gaze back around to Aubree. “Let the cops work on identification. We’ll work on the rest in-house. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah. Hang on.”
Aubree steps around me as the transport driver makes a large arc and backs up to stop about ten feet from Jane Doe’s body. As soon as the van parks and the engine stops, Aubree tiptoes over uncountable rocks to the driver’s side door and greets the guy.
“We’ve got uneven ground out here. No way you’re gonna wheel the gurney over these pebbles. But I’ll help you lift her.”
“Thanks, Aubs.”
Our driver can’t be a day over twenty-five. Short hair, dark eyes. His two front teeth are crooked, and his cheeks are pink from the arctic cold swooping straight down from the north. He slips out of the van and stomps his way to the back, then he opens the double doors and pulls out the gurney anyway.
Twenty minutes after the transport driver—whose name is Ethan O’Dey—loads up our Jane Doe, Aubree and I follow him into the George Stanley parking garage. We stay with Jane every step of the way, until she ends up in Autopsy Room One.
After packing her away and checking Kiera while we’re on the second floor—and finding the same puncture wound just above her hip—I add those details to my report and shake my head.
Our guy did this on purpose. Not even to render these women unconscious and have his way with their bodies, but simply tokillthem. To watch them suffer. To watch them bleed out and panic in their last moments alive. And once it was done, he walked away, feeling smug with his success.
“Asshole.”
