Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Sienna’s smile melted as she reminded herself she’d be better served to stop projecting her own insecurities and cringe-inducing memories onto these children. Maybe they’d be strong enough not to define themselves by where they came from. Maybe their parents—though poor—gave a damn about them. Maybe they have mothers like Mirabelle and not like my own.
She made a pained sound of frustration in the back of her throat, turning the key in the ignition and starting her car. She didn’t have time for this right now, nor was it helpful. Why she had come here, she really had no clue, other than maybe to prove to herself she could. So, fine, now she had seen it, faced it, survived it, and she could go on with her life, knowing that though it now sat closer, it still had no real power over her. It was only a place. It did not live and breathe.
She turned her car, stomping on the gas so that her tires spun, and a billow of dust exploded in a grainy cloud behind her.
If it doesn’t live and breathe, then why are you racing away as though it might find a way to chase you? But she pushed the whisper down, knowing there was no good answer.
CHAPTER TWO
“Nothing like jumping right in, I guess,” Kat said as Sienna stepped out of her car, still slightly groggy. She had expected her body to toss and turn in tandem with the turbulent emotions churning through her system her first night back in her hometown, but instead, after unpacking a bit and eating a take-out sub sandwich, she’d fallen into a heavy, dreamless slumber. So when her new partner had called at 3:14 a.m., she’d barely had the wherewithal to locate her ringing cell phone on the floor next to the bed.
Sienna walked with Kat toward the empty street under the overpass where a couple of cops stood. There was a large building across from them that appeared to be a manufacturing facility and an empty bus stop on the corner. She looked up, to where a floodlight glowed brightly from the top of the incline that sloped to the underside of the highway. “The forensics team is already here. They’re going to bag the victim up shortly, so I’m glad you’ll be able to see how she was found. I called Sergeant Dahlen, too, and she’s on her way but probably about half an hour behind you.” Kat reached in her pocket and brought out two pairs of bootees and handed one to Sienna.
The two cops guarding the scene looked over their shoulders as they approached the base of the incline, nodding at Kat and looking curiously at Sienna. She didn’t bother to introduce herself, instead heading straight to where the criminalists worked at the top, bending her head as the incline increased and the “ceiling” got lower. As they approached the crime scene, they stopped and slipped the bootees over their shoes and continued up to where three criminalists worked, two hunched over due to the small space and one kneeling in front of a woman in what appeared to be a wooden chair, the flat area at the top of the incline just high and wide enough to accommodate her in her seated position.
What the hell? A chair, sitting under an overpass? This victim had clearly been staged.
Sienna took it all in. The older woman’s head was bent sideways, a gag in her mouth, eyes open, though downcast in an endless stare. The criminalist moved slightly as he used a tweezer to pluck something off her leg, and Sienna saw that the victim was wearing the short black skirt and white shirt specific to cocktail waitresses working at the casinos, although there were no defining logos or colors to help identify a particular location. If this woman had once been wearing a vest or another piece of uniform that would have helped in nailing that down, she wasn’t now. As Sienna peered closer, she saw two small holes on her shirt where a name tag should have been pinned, but it had either been removed or fallen off. The woman’s hands were taped together in front of her, though the tape looked loose and halfhearted, used more to secure the playing cards in her hands than to keep her restricted. Odd. Her legs were bound to the chair at the ankles with duct tape, and she had purple and red marks circling her neck. Sienna’s blood chilled several degrees. She moved a little closer, tilting her head and bending down farther to look in her eyes.
Next to her, flashes went off as one of the criminalists shot a few pictures.
“Can you see the petechiae?” Kat asked from behind her, obviously knowing what Sienna was looking for—the telltale red dots in the eyes that indicated a victim had been strangled to death. Sienna nodded. With the combination of bright lights, the cool night air, and the adrenaline rush of coming face-to-face with a victim who had died a violent death, her clarity of mind had swiftly returned.