“I can see that, Donna! Why are you impersonating your sister?”
“I’m trying to draw out whoever is trying to kill her.”
Niyah’s eyes flew open from shock. “So they can kill you!” she yelled in a whisper.
Donna rolled her eyes. “Come on, Doc,” she said with a huff. “I’ve already been through this with Linc. I don’t wanna go through it again. Now, can we work this case?”
Niyah blinked in disbelief. “You don’t even work homicides! Do you even know what you're doing?”
“I’m a detective, a trained and seasoned investigator. Of course, I know what I’m doing.”
Niyah exhaled a harsh breath. She didn’t like the position Donna was putting her in, but she wasn’t about to blow her cover. “So, what we got here?” she relented with a huff.
Donna sighed with relief. “Okay, we got a male black, probably between 25 and 30, with multiple puncture wounds, concentrated in the center of his torso.”
“Did you get any info from canvasing the neighborhood?” Niyah asked while slipping on a pair of gloves.
“Nothing yet.”
Niyah walked over to the body and noticed right away that the victim had “WWM” tattooed on his left pectoral muscle and dried bodily fluids on his stomach and genitals. “Donna, this is gonna be a problem.”
“Why? What is it?”
“Bella and I were working this case. It’s the fourth homicide with the exact same MO.”
“Damn,” Donna mumbled.
Yeah. So, it can never get out that you are impersonating your sister. Because now, we’re dealing with a serial killer and if we’re lucky enough to catch him, this could blow up in our faces at trial.
“Okay, then, let’s keep it tight. No shortcuts.”
Niyah glared at Donna. “I don’t take shortcuts.”
Donna grinned. “Okay, okay. Do yo’ thang, body lady.”
Niyah grabbed the decedent's arm to check for rigor mortis. But when trying to gauge the flexibility of his joints, the glare from a piece of jewelry pinned under his arm caught her eye. Niyah pressed her lips together and closed her eyes tight before returning her attention to the dead man’s arm on the bed. “Donna, I just need a second to check his body temp. I’ll be ableto give you a time of death. Can you check the canvas info for me?”
“Why do you need canvas info? How does that help you?” Donna inquired.
Niyah made work of looking busy with the body. “It helps with time of death.”
“Mm-kay. Be right back.”
Niyah hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until Donna left the room. She exhaled and nervous breath, lifted the dead man’s arm, and retrieved the bracelet that was underneath it. It was a silver Tiffany bracelet, but it was the charm that had caught her eye. She lifted the bracelet and studied the charm in the shape of half a heart. Niyah clutched it tight in her fist and closed her eyes. She was in complete disbelief of what she’d come across at the scene of a serial homicide. Before a crisis of conscious or belief in civic duty could kick in, Niyah stuffed the bracelet into the pocket of her coveralls.
DONNA
Donna hopped into Bella’s old-school whip and drove toward the expressway. She had every intention of seeing what it could do. Since she knew Bella hadn’t, Donna planned to push her sister’s ride to the limit of its MPH.
After connecting her phone to the Bluetooth, Donna searched for 95 Degrees by Glorilla. As soon as she heard, “It’s 7PM Friday,” she turned the volume to ratched mode and shifted into drive.
It had been an exceptionally long day. Not only had she filled out endless reports about Bella’s serial murders, but she’d also had to do paperwork on the open narcotics case that she’d been neglecting.
When they were younger, impersonating her sister was much easier. Other than their personalities, they weren’t very different. Because of their parents, they’d had the same hobbies and had participated in the same activities. And even though they were both cops, she and Bella couldn’t be more different. They had the same face, but very contrasting personalities, which led to completely dissimilar styles.
Donna merged onto the expressway and looked in the rearview mirror. The black sedan, driven by the man Lincoln had charged with her protection. “I hope he can keep up,” she muttered to herself before gunning it. Empty expressways were one of the luxuries of getting off work in the middle of the night.
After an invigorating fifteen minutes of speeding down I-94, Donna took the exit leading to Bella’s house. She’d been living there for a little over two weeks with the hope of drawing out whoever shot Lucas and had tried to kill her sister. Every day, she went to work as Bella, driving Bella’s car, and living in Bella’s house. And, so far, nothing. She hadn’t even gotten so much as a prank call.
