by A. D. Ryan
“What are you doing?” David asked from the door of my closet as I fastened my belt.
Turning around, I arched an eyebrow. “Um, getting ready for work?”
“Brooke, you were attacked last night and wound up in the ER.” He paused, stepping closer to me and looking a little nervous. “Don’t you think you should stay home and rest?”
Shaking my head, I pulled on a pair of jeans and buttoned them up. “Can’t,” I replied. “Not with this new case.” My shoulder throbbed again, and something in the back of my mind nagged at me. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but I knew it had to do with this case, and I craved answers. David looked like he was about to call my father so they could devise a way to keep me from the office, so I decided to just be honest about why I couldn’t stay home. “It’s just…there’s something about this case that’s not right, and I don’t think I’ll be able to think about anything else, anyway.”
Thankfully, David empathized with this, knowing that he would have reacted the same way if something didn’t sit right with him, and he nodded. “Then I guess I’ll go start breakfast while you finish up in here,” he said, kissing me softly and exiting the room.
As soon as I was dressed, I grabbed my gun and badge from atop my dresser and affixed them to my belt before slipping on the silver crucifix that Bobby gave me on our eighteenth birthday. The pendant rested against my sternum, and a warm and tingly sensation spread beneath my skin, but I passed it off as nothing more than some kind of transference from my shoulder.
Breakfast smelled amazing as I made my way toward the kitchen, and I found David standing in front of the stove, cooking French toast—my favorite. Sliding my hand down the muscular length of his back, I pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder and wound my good arm around his waist. “Smells yummy.”
Chuckling softly, he turned his head and kissed my temple while I scratched an itch on my chest. “Thanks. You mind watching it while I go get ready?”
“Not at all,” I agreed, taking the spatula from him.
David wasn’t gone long, returning with the glass of water from my nightstand and my two prescriptions. He dumped the water and refilled the glass before handing it and the pill bottles to me. “Here, you should take these before we go.”
“Thanks.” I took the bottles and collected one of each pill in my palm, swallowing them both with a gulp of cold water from the glass. When I set the glass back on the counter, I caught David staring at me quizzically, his eyes on my chest. I was about to chastise him for being a pervert when his eyebrows pulled together and he lifted my pendant.
Cool air hit my skin, offering me instant relief from that incessant itch, and when I looked down, I saw the source of David’s concern: a three- to four-inch red and splotchy rash surrounding a dark red cross shape on my chest.
“Huh,” I said, touching my hand to the rash gently. It tingled and was warm to the touch. “I’ve never had this happen with this necklace before. Must be an allergy.” I removed the necklace, taking it back to my room. My palm tickled as I held it, and I put it back in my jewelry box before heading back to the kitchen to find breakfast already on the table.
As expected, breakfast was delicious, and I ate quickly—almost ravenously. It was unlike me, but I was absolutely famished. So hungry, in fact, that I inhaled four pieces, shocking even David.
Somewhat embarrassed by this, I offered David an apologetic smile. “I guess skipping dinner last night was a bad idea,” I joked.
He laughed, and I was instantly relieved. “Clearly.” Eyeing my empty plate, he nodded toward the stove. “Do you want me to make more? We have a bit of time.”
Feeling sated for the moment, my belly full and content, I shook my head. “No thanks. I think I’ll be okay until lunch.”
Working together, we cleaned the kitchen, and then David grabbed the keys to my car and helped me into my other leather jacket. It felt off to me, but only because I didn’t wear it as often as I did the other, so it wasn’t as worn in and soft. Since the other was shredded, though, this one would have to do.
When we walked into the precinct, all eyes were on us, and it was clear they’d all heard about what happened in Chaparral last night. I assured everyone that I was fine as we made our way to our desks, and I slipped my jacket off and hung it on the back of my chair to give my shoulder a little more air and mobility. The painkillers had kicked in, so it felt a lot better, which would make it much easier to concentrate on our case.
“So, you guys have finally come out of the closet, huh?” O’Malley’s voice carried as he flopped down in David’s chair and slapped a folder down on the desk across from me. “It’s about damn time.”
My eyes scanned the office to see several others were watching and smiling, their expressions proof enough that David and I had done a horrible job hiding our relationship all this time. “How long has everybody known?”
“Please,” O’Malley scoffed. “You work with a bunch of detectives…investigating is what we do.”
“No,” I said with a laugh, circling around my desk toward O’Malley. “Investigating is what we do.” I pointed at everyone in the room but him, teasing. “I still haven’t quite figured out what it is you do, Patrick.”
Howling with laughter, O’Malley stood. “Good to see your little injury hasn’t affected your natural charm, Brooke,” he teased, patting my good arm firmly before heading back to his own desk.
David picked up the file O’Malley left and leafed through it. I naturally assumed it had the coroner’s report for last night’s victim, and just as I rounded the desk to take a look, a loud voice cut through the room.
“What are you doing here?” my dad demanded. He stopped next to my desk, concern etched into every line in his forehead and around his eyes. “You should be at home.” He turned to David. “She should be at home.”
“I’m fine, sir,” I assured him.
He looked around the office again, and everyone who had dropped what they were doing to watch us quickly returned to work. “You have a habit of saying that…even when it’s not entirely true.”
He wasn’t wrong, and I could plainly see that his worry was that of a parent whose only living child was hurt while working a case. While I was alive, and would probably have several sizable scars to show for it, I knew this could have turned out so much worse.
Before David could tell him that his own attempt to keep me home was futile, I spoke, keeping my tone soft and apologetic. “I know, but I couldn’t stay home. I would have driven myself crazy thinking about this case. If I start to feel off, I’ll go home, okay?”
Nodding, Dad agreed to my terms. “Fine.” Turning to David, he pointed a finger at him, his eyes narrowing sternly. “Samuels, I’m trusting you to keep a close eye on her.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll make sure she’s not overdoing it.”
After Dad retreated into his office, I perched myself on the edge of David’s desk and looked down at the file in his lap, arching an eyebrow inquiringly. “Whatcha got there?”
David looked down at the manila folder and exhaled loudly, raking his fingers through his short hair. “The coroner’s report for our vic,” he informed me, holding the file out.
“Cause of death?” I asked, opening the folder and quickly reviewing the crime scene photos and what little information the coroner’s office reported. I read through the report and found the answer to my question before David could reply.
Either he missed the distress on my face as I read the word over and over again, or he said it in hopes of pulling me out of my stupor. “Exsanguination.” His tone was solemn, and even though I already knew this, my stomach churned when I heard it out loud.
Slowly, my eyes rose from the file, meeting his. It wasn’t hard to see how worried he was about how I might handle this, and he had every right to be; I’d only ever heard of a few other cases like this, and they were so long ago that only a few select cops would even remember them this vividly…them and my family
, anyway. “Th-they’re sure?”
David nodded once, his eyes full of remorse. “The lack of blood leads them to believe so, yes.”
I was slipping fast, my head spinning with this new revelation. Taking a deep breath, I composed myself and dropped my voice to just above a whisper as I leaned in to address him privately. “Has my father seen this?”
“I’m honestly not sure,” he told me. “The file just got dropped off, so if he has, he hasn’t connected the dots yet.”
“Then he hasn’t.” I stood up and took the file to the captain’s office, David hot on my trail, and knocked rapidly.
“Come in,” he bellowed through the door, and I pushed it open. “What can I help you with, Detectives?”
“Have you seen this?” I dropped the open file on his desk, startling him and forcing his gaze away from his computer screen.
“Only briefly,” he replied, picking it up and looking at it a little more closely.
“Briefly?” I was on the verge of losing my composure again. “You get a case where the cause of death is exsanguination, and you only glance at it?” That got his attention. I really tried to remain professional, but that line was blurred the minute this case mirrored my brother’s and a rash of murders just like it from almost a decade ago. “Tell me I’m seeing things. Tell me this isn’t happening again,” I pleaded, my voice shaking slightly.
“I-I didn’t realize…” He read the report, and I Recognized the minute he came to the same stark realization as both David and I had. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. “I’ll…uh…” He struggled to form a sentence as his eyes remained glued on the file. “I’ll put somebody else on this. Immediately.”
“No.” Firm in my conviction, I leaned on the front of his desk and pressed my index finger onto the file. “I want this one. I’m going to solve it. If this is the same sick freak that took Bobby, you better believe I want to take him down. Personally.”
“Brooke,” David whispered from the doorway behind me, and I turned around sharply. “Maybe he’s right. I think you’d be too emotionally involved in the case if it turns out to be the same guy.”
“I’m not emotionally involved,” I corrected him. “I’m invested.”
“Regardless, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” David said, his tone a little more firm. “You were just promoted. Is this really the case you want to start your career with?”
I looked at him point-blank. “Yes.”
David and my dad exchanged a look. I could tell that David really wanted it assigned to someone else, but with a resigned sigh, Dad gave the final order to keep us on it. “Fine. But the minute I see that this case is becoming too much for you, you’re off it, do you understand me? I won’t have you fall back to where you were seven years ago, Brooke.”
Before he could take it back, I nodded, snatching the file from him. “I understand. Thank you.” As I turned to walk away, a photo slipped from inside and fluttered to the floor. Kneeling, I picked up the picture, but when my eyes focused on the close-up image of the victim’s neck, I inhaled sharply, my entire body freezing as it triggered a long-forgotten memory. There, at the apex of this woman’s neck and shoulder, was a strange laceration, and the longer I stared at it, the more I realized it wasn’t the first time I’d seen something like this.
Bobby.
“Brooke?” David asked. His voice sounded distant as I was thrust back to the night I found Bobby in that alley seven years ago. I felt his weak pulse against my palm again, his blood pumping from a wound on his neck—a wound very similar to the one in the photograph—as his heartbeat slowed and eventually stopped.
Lost in the memory of that night, my lungs burned hot with every breath I took, and it was growing more and more difficult to breathe the longer I stared at this picture. The room felt like it was getting smaller, the panic in my chest tightened as my vision started to darken around the edges, and my ears rang. When my knees trembled and threatened to buckle, I reached out, dropping the folder and all its contents, and grabbed the front of David’s jacket to hold me upright. His reflexes were quick, and he grabbed me around the waist.
“Whoa! Easy,” he soothed, steadying me.
“I don’t…” My tongue was numb, and my skin prickled with an icy sweat as I clung to him, my shoulder throbbing harder and burning hotter than before. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Okay,” he whispered, picking me up in his arms and carrying me quickly through the office and outside. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
My vision faded in and out, and I fought the urge to pass out. David tried to talk to me, telling me to stay with him. I tried—I did—but I went limp in his arms, my limbs heavy, like they were filled with lead. David carried me with ease from the precinct and toward the car despite this, making me feel somewhat weightless, too.
The last thing I remembered before I lost consciousness was David shouting my name.
Chapter six | observation
The entire world slipped away whenever I was in his arms. I always felt so safe and secure with him around, and he’d proven himself to be there for me on more than one occasion. I foresaw a long, happy future together, even if we were both still so young. He was all I could see when I looked into the future…which was why I’d accepted his marriage proposal three days ago. He was the love of my life, and he had proven time and time again that I was his.
Of course, I never expected this feeling to dissipate as quickly as it did at the first sign of tragedy.
“Hey, where did your brother go?”
I searched the darkness for a glimpse of Bobby’s bronze-colored hair or even the sweater he changed into before we left the dorm, but couldn’t find him. I didn’t understand. He was right there a second ago…talking to some blonde chick. I’d only looked away for a minute—if that. Panic rose in my chest, bile churning in my stomach as I feared the worst…no, not just feared the worst; I could sense that something was wrong.
“I…I don’t know.” Detached from everything but the feeling that something was terribly wrong, I pulled out of Nick’s arms and walked toward the table. My hands shook as I pushed through the crowd and headed back to the last place I saw my brother, but he wasn’t there. His beer hadn’t even been touched, and there was no sign of him here at all. Not his jacket, not his keys, nothing.
The tremble in my hands spread to my entire body, and my heart raced. Something wasn’t right; I knew this. I took one more look around the club, hoping that maybe I’d spot—or even sense—him, but I came up empty once more.
“Babe?” Nick was as concerned as I was, and I grew more and more frantic by the second. My chin quivered, my hands gripping the hair at my temples tightly, and tears burned my eyes. “Maybe he stepped outside,” Nick said behind me, trying to calm me down, but I shook the thought off before letting it sink in.
“No,” I disagreed. “He would have said something. He’d have come to tell us if that’s what he was doing.”
“He’s twenty-one, Brooke,” Nick argued, but I was already headed for the door when something unseen and unexplainable drew me in that direction. “Brooke?”
The crowd was too thick, and I struggled to get through; it was like they were unwilling to let me pass—trying to keep me inside. Eventually, I gave up and scanned the bar for an alternate exit. When I found an emergency door, I rushed toward it, not stopping for anyone who tried to get in my way. I threw the door open, stepping into the back alley so quickly that when I stopped abruptly, Nick almost bowled me over. The tingle that still covered my entire body intensified until all the tiny hairs on my body stood on end. I was close. I knew it—felt it.
Trusting my gut, I turned and ran in the direction I thought I sensed him, skidding to a stop at the mouth of the alley when the feeling faded. I looked out into the street, desperate for even a glimpse of him—anything to indicate he was okay. There were too many cars, though, and so many people that I found it hard to make out anyone’s face.
> Then I felt it: that sharp tingle shooting up my spine until I turned back toward the alley.
He’s there.
I turned slowly, my eyes falling to the darkened alley floor where a slumped shape was hidden in the shadows a few feet in. A passing car’s headlights illuminated the still figure, and I gasped, recognizing the shirt and his hair in an instant. Everything else left my mind, my thoughts only on Bobby, as I bolted down the alley, falling to my bare knees at his side.
The pain from the cuts and scrapes of sliding over the pavement was nothing compared to the fear I experienced when pulling Bobby’s limp body into my arms. His green eyes were wide—terrified—and completely void of life. And his skin—oh, god—his skin was so cold and pale…almost as though his life had been drained from him.
“Help! Somebody, help me! Please!” I screamed, the tears I’d been able to hold back now flowing freely down my cheeks. I sobbed, my lungs burning as I tried to gulp in a breath of air, and loud footsteps approached hard and fast behind me.
“Oh, dear god,” Nick gasped, and while he stood right next to me, I couldn’t stop looking at Bobby as I attempted to shake him awake.
I screamed again, crying out his name as I shook him harder, causing his head to roll lifelessly to the right. There, illuminated by the light of the full moon, were two perfectly round puncture wounds with a thin trickle of blood seeping from each of them.
Bright white light blinded me as I forced my eyes open. I tried to bring my right arm up to shield my eyes, but an uncomfortable tug in the top of my hand stopped me. It pinched and it stung. Groaning, I opened my eyes a little more to let them adjust to my surroundings. I was in a room I didn’t recognize, and a high-pitched beeping drew my attention to the monitors next to the bed I occupied. As my vision cleared, I followed the leads hooked into the machines down to my arm and realized the tugging was from an IV catheter that violated the back of my hand. It itched again, and I wanted it out.
