“What do you mean?”
“These symbols aren’t what you’d use if you were really trying to summon or sacrifice something to a demon. If demons were even real at all,” I quickly add.
“That makes me feel better. Maybe. Actually not. Because now we’re dealing with an even crazier psycho killer.”
“Maybe. Or maybe someone is trying to cover up a murder by making it look like the vampire murderer but got their facts wrong.”
Her lips pull into a half-smile. “Good thing you’re in charge of this investigation.”
“Yeah. Good thing.”
“See ya later, Ace.”
I nod a goodbye and get back to work, having a hard time concentrating again on my case. It’s unlike me and it’s frustrating as hell. Rubbing my forehead, I rest my head in my hands.
The blood in the basement…the newest layer was fresh. How did whoever put it there know Mrs. Green would go look at the house that night? She rented out the shitty space and rarely went there. It was unoccupied so it’s not like she was checking on a tenant issue.
I open up my laptop and log into the system, ready to pull up Mrs. Green’s name and get her address so I can go talk to her.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself. I’m getting further and further away from my investigation, the one I’m getting paid to work on. But the blood…the Dark Ones…the ghost…I can’t stop thinking about them. They’re calling to me, and I know it’s important.
“Detective,” an officer calls, standing in the threshold of a conference room. “You ready?”
Ready? Ready for—oh fuck. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.” I gather up the case files and go into the conference room to discuss the case with the rest of the team. I don’t have much to go on, which is outside of my norm. Though, with a murder like this, no one questions me.
I comb through missing persons’ reports after the meeting and come up empty-handed. I refill my coffee mug and sit back at my desk. Staring at the crime scene photos again, I try and get inside the mind of the killer. Why this church?
The murder was premeditated, obviously, but I feel the killer is new to this by the mistakes made. Fingerprints were wiped down, but we were able to get a few partials off the marble altar. Nothing that matched in the system, of course.
We got decent skin scrapings from under the victim’s nails. Being able to match fingerprints and DNA to the fucker who killed her will bag us a win in court. Well, as long as we can catch the guy.
The phone on my desk rings, and a glance down tells me the call is coming from the front desk of the office.
“Bisset,” I say into the receiver.
“There’s a young woman here to see you,” the secretary says. “Gemma Hayes.”
“I’ll be right up.”
I close my files, lock them away in my desk, and go to the front of the building.
“Hey,” Gemma says, face tight. She’s holding two coffees, and looks nervous. “Sorry to barge in here on you like this. I don’t think I actually thanked you yesterday. I was a little flustered.”
“It’s all right.”
She holds out a coffee. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I just got my usual order, an iced caramel frap.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, and take the drink. I don’t go to Starbucks often, but when I do, this is what I order.
“Have you had lunch yet? I’d love to buy you something to eat. It’s the least I can do, and I feel like such an asshole for leaving without thanking you.”
I’m about to tell her no, but I am hungry. “I haven’t, but you don’t owe me anything.”
“Please. It’d make me feel better. I could hardly sleep last night I felt so bad.”
“Fine. Let me grab my shit.”
I go back to my desk and get my purse, then lead Gemma out of the station. “I was just doing my job, you know,” I remind her as we stop at a crosswalk.
