Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 14425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 72(@200wpm)___ 58(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 72(@200wpm)___ 58(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
I grab one of the detectives as the EMS workers rush the patient inside. "What's going on there? Who is that?"
The detective stares at the victim, disappearing deeper into the hospital as he speaks. "That would be Craig Kushner, local smash and grab, and a rap sheet longer than a giraffe’s cock."
"Jesus. What the hell happened?" I ask with a laugh.
He pulls out a cigarette. "The call came in about an hour ago. Someone found him with a diamond carved into his chest. He was clutching a velvet satchel with one diamond inside it by the time we got to him."
"I had a robbery and assault last night at a jewelry store. It happened at Francine's on Main Street. Did you see anything that might link this guy to that robbery?"
He nods. "It's all going back with forensics, but the satchel had the letters F and J on it."
"Was there anything else at the scene?"
"Besides flaps of this guy's skin?" The detective scoffs. "Someone took their time with him. They left him alive long enough to be found. I doubt he'll make it. There was some cash, but it's not like your jewelry store owner marks their bills, right?"
"I doubt it. If you give me your case number, I'll give you mine. We can look at the forensics and see if the cases are linked. Whoever he did the job with probably stabbed him in the back while splitting the bounty."
The detective chuckles to himself. "Stabbed in the back, the front, and down the sides. Whoever did this was pissed at him, but that list is long. He typically runs with a few guys out of Newark. The last guy we know of is Derek Hammond. He also goes by Hammer. I'll send his sheet to you. You can run down their other known acquaintances. But if you get a hit on someone who did this—"
I understand what he's saying perfectly as I tell him, "Homicide trumps robbery. Run me the guy's prints so I can check it against my case. Anyone who comes back that looks good for this, I'll send him your way."
"Will do." The detective blows out a puff of smoke before flicking the cigarette away. He heads inside, where his partner looks dismal, shaking his head. It tells me everything I need to know. One of my suspects is dead, and I'm sure the other is on the chopping block. I have to get to their suspect before they do.
Cars move aside with a whir of my siren as I speed down the street. There's only one destination I have in mind. I don't want to think the worst of her, but Chelsea is ruthless with a knife. She uses a blade like it's a piece of her hand.
When I pull up to the Emerson house, it still looks the same as the last time I was here. Its lawn is always cut to precision. The slate stone path leads to a dark blue home with white trim. I don't bother knocking on the front door. Instead, I walk around the back of the house to see what I already know is true.
The shed in the back of the house holds a workshop her father likes to use. An assortment of tools for metalwork and carving rare gemstones are inside. There's a padlock across the doors that I lift and let fall. An echo of the metal lock clanging against the latch rings out louder than I anticipated. It's like an alarm to anyone inside the house.
"You need a warrant to get inside there, Detective," Chelsea says as she walks up behind me.
"Where have you been, Chelsea?" I ask her.
My eyes move over her entire body for a different reason than etching every sensuous curve into my memory.
"I've been gathering information to help you solve your case." The wicked grin on her face confirms what I know she's capable of.
"Does that include skinning someone alive? Carving them up like a Thanksgiving turkey?"
"That sounds like a messy job, Victor. Look at me." Her voice commands me to stare her in the eyes to see the truth. She holds her hands out, turning them one way and then another. "Do you want to dust me for prints?"
"Open the shed, Chelsea."
5
CHELSEA
The work shed is empty.
There's a touch of joy I get in seeing the look of disappointment on Victor's face. It's hard to hold back a giggle as I tell him, "What did you expect to see? Pools of blood and all my favorite knives coated with DNA evidence? I'm going to pretend that you know me better than that."
Victor spins, grabbing me by the throat and slamming me against the wall. My smile is wider than it should be under the circumstances, but this is comfort between us. It's too familiar, too easy for us to fall right back into the way we used to be.