There, beside the front door was hair attached to something round. I knew that hair. Knew if I turned the head around whose face I'd see.
I choked back a sob.
"Harlow, what, oh my God." Gina stopped behind me. "Is that…"
I could barely manage to get the word out. "Erin."
I didn't want to, but I forced myself to crouch beside her. To take a good look at her face. She stared back at me, eyes wide open, glazed but full of fear.
Whoever did this to her, she knew she was about to die.
"Who would do something like this?" Gina whispered. "We need to call the police."
"Yeah, we do." I pushed myself to my feet and made the call. I didn't want them here, but this wasn't something I could brush under the proverbial carpet. Especially since her blood was still shining, wet.
She hadn't been dead for long.
"You should go," I said to Gina once I ended the call. "Unless you know anything about this."
"Not a thing." Her eyes were almost as wide as Erin's. She kept glancing around as if scared someone was going to jump out and kill us too.
"Go on then," I said. "I'll try to keep you out of this. I guess I'll…let you know when the restaurant is open again."
If she was game to come back.
"I'll keep paying you," I added quickly.
I owed her that much. I'd also understand if she wanted to work somewhere else. You didn't see something as horrific as this and then get on with life like nothing happened. This was going to take time for her to process.
I'd give her all the time she needed.
"Thank you," she said vaguely, backing toward the door, her eyes raking around the room, taking in everything.
I nodded and sent off a message to the group chat I had with the guys. They'd want to know what happened to Erin.
I found a clean section of wall and sank back against it.
This was about me. Somehow they knew we were looking for them and they came after us first. How long had they known? Had they targeted Erin's phone before they came for her?
I didn't even need to wonder who they were. I already knew.
This was what they did to my sister. Broke her, then sliced her into pieces. Scattered her like she was confetti. These people were sick. Sicker than anything I'd ever done.
Sicker than me fucking Boner while waiting for Archer to kill Jason.
Sicker than locking someone in a plastic box and waiting for them to drown.
Sicker than cutting out a dead person's heart.
"What the fucking hell?"
It took a moment to register it wasn't one of my boyfriends who spoke. Nor was it a member of the NYPD.
I suppressed a groan.
"Jules, what are you doing here?" Wasn't this day bad enough already?
"Cassius told me to come," he said, his eyes scanning the room in horrified shock. "I was close by."
