Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
It’s time for them to meet a bigger predator.
It’s time for me to hunt.
Inara
My first thought when I wake up is, "Someone’s in my apartment.” My fingers are on my gun before I’ve fully opened my eyes. I palm the cool, smooth weight and scan the corners of my room. Naked, I rise from the bed and approach the door at an angle, gun extended. I clear each zone and continue through the house, searching every room just like my mentor, Detective Collins, taught me.
The place is empty. The doors and windows are locked. The light on the security system panel blinks its message confidently—“Armed and Secure.” But it feels like someone has been here.
I close my eyes and sense the shadowy presence. A large figure, moving with panther-like ease, down the hall. The picture of the intruder is strongest in my bedroom. I can picture them standing at the end of my bed, gazing down at the rumpled sheets with a fondness that takes me by surprise.
But I’m just imagining things. I need to get moving. A check of my phone reveals that I slept until almost noon.
I dress quickly and clip my badge to my belt.
It’s late morning but dark and gray. My body is rested but sluggish from so much sleep. I’ll grab a coffee at the bodega and check on the lady sleeping outside. If she hasn’t moved on after the attack last night, that is.
I’m so preoccupied thinking about this that I blow out the door at full blast and stumble over a body crumpled on my doorstep.
I curse, losing my balance and going down on one knee. “Gods, I’m so sorry—”
The body is curled up, long legs tucked halfway up in a fetal position, wearing a black hoodie and jeans. I edge around it, and I don’t need to lean in to check a pulse to know that this person is dead. But then I get a glimpse of the face. Pale skin, silver lip ring, mouth open in a silent scream. A stranger’s face but unmistakable.
The dead body is one of my attackers from last night.
9
Inara
“You just can’t catch a break,” Burgess says. He’s nursing a Styrofoam cup of coffee, but I don’t need to see his face to know he’s gloating. “Last night, then today.”
“It was a fluke.”
“Maybe the attack last night. But this morning?” Burgess turns and makes a show of scanning the walk up, hidden from the street by a thick hedge. “You live here?”
“I like the privacy.” Or I did. Now, there are grunts all over the lawn, and a crowd of gawking neighbors gather at the bright yellow crime scene tape. Even if it isn’t a murder scene, the fact that Burgess knows where I live now is enough to make me want to move.
“So what do you think?” Burgess asks as the grunts move the body. “Killed somewhere else and moved here?”
“Definitely killed somewhere else.”
I remember the feeling I had when I woke up that there was someone in the house. Another feeling of being watched. I suppress a shiver. I’ll be damned if I show Burgess how unsettled I am.
“You figure?” Burgess continues. He’s definitely trying to rile me up.
“He was stabbed multiple times, but there’s no blood around the body when there should be buckets of it.” I point to the stoop. Other than the chalk outline, there’s no sign that a dead body was there.
“Stabbed?” The idiot is talking loudly enough for the onlookers to hear. I clench my teeth. He saw the wounds himself.
I turn and walk toward the units. There are twice as many cop cars as necessary. I called dispatch as soon as I found the body, knowing it’d be a circus, but this was bad.
So much for laying low. If there was a chance that no one would know about the attack last night, it’s gone now. The gossip has probably spread past New Jersey. I wouldn’t be surprised if I start getting calls from cops on the West Coast, checking on me.
“Detective Ramos?” A tall woman in a knee-length pea coat ducks under the crime tape and heads my way. Another woman falls into step behind her.
“Yes?”
“I’m Detective Jacobs. This is my partner, Detective Diaz.” Both women have flint-hard faces. “This is your residence?”
“Yes.”
“And you discovered the body?”
“About fifteen minutes after I woke up.”
Diaz squints at me. “Did you hear anything before then?”
I shake my head. “I was asleep.”
Both Diaz and Jacobs lean back and exchange knowing looks. I’m going to have a hell of a time convincing them I didn’t kill the man left on my doorstep. The fact that I have no alibi—other than that I was sleeping—has put me in their crosshairs as a suspect.
“We’ll need to speak to you further.”
Burgess steps up beside me. “I’ll take her to the station.”