Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“The front door wasn’t even locked; that was how ridiculous his security was,” Rainier informed them.
“Or shows how arrogant he is,” Wilder said.
“Was. He’s dead.”
It was announced quietly. Without emotion. Neither man seemed to have a reaction to the sheriff’s demise.
Harlow gasped and covered her mouth with her fingers. That was the last thing she expected Rainier to say. “How?”
“I believe he died the same way as Helen McKay. The body looked the same,” Rainier said. “Fresher. He hadn’t been dead long. But he suffered. More, he had several sets of puncture wounds on him as if he’d been bitten numerous times.”
There was a small silence. Harlow thought that blew her idea of a snakebite. Had Rafferty been bitten by a rattlesnake, or any other kind of snake for that matter, he would have known to get help and treatment, especially if he’d been struck more than once.
Wilder must have been thinking along the same line. “Signs of struggle?” he asked.
“Not what one would see if a human being attacked him. It’s possible he let someone in, or, like me, they just opened the door and walked in, surprised him by incapacitating him, and then Rafferty was injected with a toxin. If that’s what happened, Rafferty never saw it coming,” Rainier explained. “And yet he would have had to have been injected at least three times.”
“Do you believe he was attacked by someone?” Harlow asked.
Rainier frowned. “I believe his death was orchestrated by a human being. I don’t have a clue yet how. I did take photos and video. I took close-ups of the puncture wounds, and Raine is analyzing them now. Hopefully she can enhance the evidence or whatever I managed to gather and find something so we can get a better idea of how these people are dying. I got out of there quickly. I didn’t want to leave any trace of my being there.”
“Your phone?” Wilder asked. “Rainier, you know they’re going to look at both of us. If anything, Blom or the senator will demand it.”
“Not to mention Bale,” Harlow added. “He’s going to lose his mind over this, and in this instance, I can’t blame him. He may have been feuding with his uncle, but they were close. Very close. I can’t imagine how he’s going to take this.”
“My phone shows I was at my home all night,” Rainier said. “It sat on my bedside table while I slept with my wife.”
“What is your gut telling you, Rainier?” Wilder asked. “You were there. You saw his death fresh, firsthand.”
Harlow found herself holding her breath. She had a gut feeling. That ominous, dark shadow had been moving through her for weeks. At that time, she’d felt as if a terrible tornado was coming to Knightly, and now she believed it was here. They were right in the middle of a violent storm, and no one seemed to realize it. Everything was spinning out of control, yet because a killer not being visible didn’t mean he wasn’t active.
With everything else going on, Blom condemning his own men to death, sending them out on missions where they would be ambushed and killed, the threats made to Harlow, the investigation of the disappearance of a young woman tied to the senator, vandalism, and all the mysterious deaths, it was impossible to sort it all out and find that invisible thread that connected everything. But she feared there was one.
Rainier took his time before answering Wilder. “I didn’t see any evidence of a person in that house other than Rafferty himself. There were no signs of an interaction, let alone a struggle. Having said that, my gut tells me there is someone, a human being, behind these deaths.”
Harlow felt a mixture of relief, that someone else felt as she did—that the deaths weren’t accidental—yet coupled with that, she was afraid for her community. If someone had figured out a way to kill without being present, they had to be using a toxic reptile. That reptile would still be in the house. Most of the others had been outside when they died, or in their cars, but they could have been bitten before they got into their cars. Otherwise, forensics would have found what had bitten them.
“What I do believe,” Harlow said, “is that a neurotoxin is being injected that affects the nervous system. The normal neurotransmitter function seems to be disrupted, leading to severe muscle spasms. It would also cause respiratory distress, as I observed in Lawyer and believe to have happened in Helen’s case as well. The signs were that the venom hit fast and hard.”
“You’ve really thought about this,” Wilder said.
There was respect in his voice, which surprised her. She had tried to point out to the experts sent to study the cases the things she had observed, but they’d dismissed her findings. It was true she was guessing to some extent, but she’d studied poisons, venoms and toxins for years, finding the plants, reptiles and insects fascinating. She’d photographed many of them, even when she was young. She had a massive binder she referred to often when observing the various deaths and talking with the medical examiner.