Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Of course, he did, I think. Again, though, who wouldn’t want the hell out of here? “Who was it?”
“John Nguyen.”
The feisty redhead who doesn’t match his name but defends it fiercely. I’ll take him. We need just that kind of attitude on this case. “What else do I need to know?”
“Not much else to tell.”
“Well, find something,” I say.
He gives me a nod and turns away.
“Agent?”
I turn to find Jack still standing on this side of the door. “They’re saying there are plenty of boots. I don’t know what is going on but everyone is too busy to bring them up. Like we aren’t the most important part of this investigation.”
“Unless the killer is in the room right now, we’re only one piece of the puzzle. Call Rollins. Tell him I told you to and get us some damn boots.”
“I did. He had no idea there was an issue. He’s making a call.”
He should have known, and normally I’d burn him alive for this, but this is not a normal crime scene.
I turn away from Jack and curl my fingers into my palms. If we get those boots at all, it’s not going to be fast. That’s just more time for something to get screwed up before I see it. I’m already standing in the river with no warning at all, no signs of blood outside this door, and I want to know how. And did whatever was done to not leave a blood trail, screw something up? John Nguyen knew what he was doing. This is a disaster from start to finish, but I need to just get my job done and get the hell out of here.
I glance down at the water, and will myself to see it as nothing else. It’s time to step back into my Otherland and work this crime scene because I’m not there right now. I fight the urge to draw a deep breath when the air smells of blood and death. Instead, I count to five. That’s all the time I give myself to get my shit together.
And when I look up, I am in the right head space—in my zone—and ready to deal with my phobia after I leave this apartment and not one second sooner.
I also feel eyes on me and I scan the apartment to find Noah standing on the other side of the kitchen bar, staring at me. The freaks and creeps are all around me, and anyone who’s walking around in blood without rubber boots is both. And that makes Noah a freak and a creep.
Chapter Thirteen
I’m contemplating Noah’s motives for carelessly and perhaps intentionally contaminating the crime scene when Jack steps in front of me, slopping fucking bloody water all over the damn place, including me, in the process. His thick skull just can’t take a hint. I turned away from him and offered him a view of my back for a reason.
“Can you be a little more delicate when dealing with the crime scene? Stop slopping water and blood everywhere. And does this, any of this, even bother you at all?”
“Does it bother me?” he asks, his tone incredulous. “Okay,” he adds as if conceding, and offering up a confession. “I get it. This is you telling me you see all and know all, right? You want me to admit it? Okay,” he says again. “I threw up. I went to the door and threw up. It wasn’t pretty and I’m not proud of it, but it happened. I was a chemist before I started this job. I didn’t see dismembered bodies unless it was in a horror flick and I can tell you, it’s not the same.” He squeezes his eyes shut and points to his right. “There’s a leg on the couch next to me.” He opens his eyes. “Who has ever said those words but me?” He doesn’t give me a chance to reply, he’s still going. “I’m a Ph.D. chemist. I was making good money, but it didn’t feel like it mattered. I wanted to do something that mattered and I—”
“Stop melting down,” I order.
“Why? You accused me of being unaffected. Either way I go here, you don’t like me.”
He’s actually wrong. This, right here, right now, actually makes him human, not some caricature he seems to want to create of himself. “I don’t hate you,” I say. “But if you slop blood all over the place again, I will hit you, and enjoy it. Now, here is what I need you to do. Go work the scene. And while you’re at it, find out how many people really are not wearing boots.”
His eyes narrow and he lowers his voice. “You think it’s just that forensics tech?”
“Noah is his name. And yes, but talk less. Listen more. I need—”
“Silence,” he replies. “I get it. I’ll leave you alone and I’ll find out stuff you need to know.” He turns away from me and while he still sloshes, it’s at least less of a slosh.