Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Chapter 2
I’m not saying that your perfume is too strong, but the goddamn dog was alive before you walked in the door.
-Things you shouldn’t say to a person who’s wearing too much perfume.
Kayla
The first week wasn’t bad. Not at all.
In fact, I kind of liked the forensics aspect of the investigation process.
What I didn’t like was the whole hurry up to do nothing aspect.
However, since those were the ups and downs of the job, I didn’t think that it much mattered that I didn’t like all the paperwork.
The second week, however, was what convinced me that I wasn’t cut out for this job.
It all started out as a fairly normal day.
Until the second a shit storm started to rage, shitting lightning down on top of the shit parade that was shitting on the streets of Benton.
I was dressed in my mandatory ‘citizen’ t-shirt. The bulletproof vest that I was also required to wear was on the seat in my car, and I’d slip that on once I got out of the car at the station.
I walked into the station, shrugged on my vest, and headed straight for Loki’s office.
He was waiting for me and stood up grabbing his field kit the moment I walked in the door.
I frowned.
“What’s wrong?” I asked the moment I got a good look at his face.
“Bad shit, KK,” he said, using the nickname he started calling me the first day of my apprenticeship.
Apparently, I said ‘k’ a lot, and because of that and the fact that my name began with a K, he dubbed me ‘KK’ within a few hours after I’d started.
Which led to now.
“What kind of bad shit?” I questioned.
“The kind of bad shit that involves multiple murders. Those murders connected to a vast array of other murders that started in Florida and are making their way, state-by-state, here. They got to us this morning. Well, last night, technically,” he answered.
I bit my lip.
“So, you’re thinking what…that it’s a serial killer here?” I clarified.
He nodded once. “Don’t just think it, I know it. You’ll see why I say that when we get to the scenes.”
“Scenes,” I said.
He nodded. “Ready?”
I swallowed, not sure that I was. But I wouldn’t give up. Not at the first sign of bad stuff.
I had to know if I could handle this, and how would I know if I never exposed myself to it?
“Ready,” I confirmed as I fell into step beside him.
I honestly thought I was, too.
At least, I thought I was until I arrived at the first murder scene.
They say you’ll never forget seeing your first dead body.
I knew for a fact I never would.
Why?
Because he was chopped into a billion, cagillion, tiny little pieces.
Starting with the tips of his toes.
Then he was lined up perfectly, as if someone was putting the pieces of a puzzle back together.
At first, I wasn’t too sure what the hell it was I was looking at.
Then, it all hit me, and my belly revolted.
One second, I was standing in a bedroom staring at what was once a very alive human being, and the next I was on my knees in the grass puking my guts up.
I’d had pancakes, too.
At least they tasted semi-decent coming back up.
The moment my stomach was empty, I stood up, then put my hands on the back of my head as I tried to breathe through my nose, and out through my mouth.
I closed my eyes and then realized too late that that was the wrong thing to do. Especially when I only replayed that scene in my head over and over again.
“You okay?”
I looked up to see a crime scene tech staring at me.
“Yeah,” I croaked. “Peachy.”
He grinned. “I’ll have to take your word for it, I guess. Because honestly, you don’t look peachy.”
I shrugged and wiped my mouth on my wrist, then turned on my heels to head back inside.
I could do this. I could do this.
I chanted that to myself as I made my way back inside, stopping in the living room, just beyond the large pool of blood laying underneath the desecrated body.
The only thing that was bigger than about four inches was the man’s scalp, which sat on top of his fucked-up head.
“God, this had to have taken at least a day,” I observed. “He’d have had to have used a bone saw to cut all of this up so precisely. And he has to have done this before, otherwise it wouldn’t have been done so neatly.”
“I agree,” Loki said at the same time a man cleared his throat from behind us.
I looked over my shoulder to see a man standing there.
“Hello,” I found myself saying.
The man smiled. “I’m Lynn, the FBI agent on this case. Tell me what’s going on?”
I didn’t bother opening my mouth again.
Stupidly I berated myself for talking when I should’ve kept silent. I was nothing here, an observer