[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
blustering would just have sounded like begging.
Collars and Cuffs - 43
Pleading.
Which was what she wanted to do.
I don t need another little girl. Not right now. Right
now I have you. His voice was so fucking close. Too
fucking close, and she had to fight not to cry out, not to
sob.
Don t hit me again.
Please God.
Not again.
Are you scared, you bitch? Scared of how bad I ll
make you scream?
Bring it on, you weak, dickless asshole.
Danny. Danny, please. Please come. I m right here.
He screamed, and the rage and fury buoyed her up a
little, prepared her for what was coming. What she knew
was coming. Hannah could hear the pounding, the
hammer, slapping into the cinderblock walls, slamming
into the concrete.
He was coming.
Coming for her.
Please God.
Please.
Not again.
She saw the sparks from the claw part of the hammer,
dragging across the stone. He had her pistol strapped to
his thigh, had her bite marks sunk deep into his cheek,
the flesh there red and streaky, starting to swell.
She was beginning to believe that bit of DNA she
would leave behind was the only thing he d leave of her
for the others to find.
Hopefully it would kill the son of a bitch.
Let s start with the good bits, honey. I bet you
break. Let s see what makes you cry.
Collars and Cuffs - 44
When the hammer flew, sinking into her lower belly,
the flesh bubbling around the metal, she found out. She
found out exactly what broke her.
Hannah woke screaming, curled around her hands
that were pressed into her belly with its scars, holding
tight to the mass of pain that Jenkins had left behind.
Her pillow was wet with tears, her head throbbing as the
adrenaline from the dream coursed through her, leaving
her shaken and dry-mouthed.
Two years and it still happened, over and over again.
Every fucking day.
He stole everything, in four days, eight hours and
seventeen minutes.
She thought about getting up, going for pizza or a
beer. She wasn t on call tonight, although she was going
in to look at the ME s report on the second vic, see if
there were any similarities. She hadn t seen any. The
second vic s death read like an accident -- a little too
much wine, a too-long scarf and a fall off a balcony and
boom. Still. The powers that be saw the connection.
Then there were the two strangulation vics over in
Garland and Grand Prairie. Both tall girls, long, curly,
bright copper hair. One was African American, one was
white. Still...
Maybe she ought to call, just to compare notes.
Her phone rang, and she grabbed for it, flipping it
open without looking. Only her mother or Nogales
would call her this early in the afternoon. MacTavish.
Hannah. It s... That familiar voice dragged over her
nerves like acid, washing the lingering fear from the
nightmare away from her.
I know who it is. What the fuck do you want?
Agent Donalds wasn t her motherfucking hero anymore.
Hadn t been in a very long time. Asshole.
Collars and Cuffs - 45
His sigh made her lip curl. Look, Hannah, honey, do
we have to be enemies? I want to be your friend. I want
to help you out.
Help me out? How? What do you have that I need?
I saw your name on the reports coming up. Saw that
maybe you had a hate crime situation. That s my
specialty.
La-di-da. Homicide wasn t good enough anymore? I
don t need you here.
I thought...
Don t think. Don t fucking come. We have it under
control.
It s a hate crime. It s a serial. You re going to get
assistance. Don t be stubborn, H.
She looked at the phone, considering just throwing it
across the room, letting it shatter. She could hear him,
though, going on and on, jabbering away like she gave a
good God damn.
She put the phone back up to her ear; he hadn t even
known she was gone. I thought maybe you d want to
know that they re sending me to Dallas to work the
case.
Yeah? You think you want to get lucky, Danny?
Have a little fling while you re out in cowboy country?
Fucker.
Hannah? I m married. I sent you an invitation, it
was returned. Maria... She s... she s due in June.
Oh. She blinked at the phone like it was some sort
of snake or something, something that had bitten her
bone deep. Babies. Shit, there must be something in the
water there in Maryland. Congratulations.
Thanks. I fly out in two days to consult.
Consult away. It s my case, Douglas. Mine. We
don t need the feds.
That s what all the cops say.
Collars and Cuffs - 46
She ran her fingers along her belly, staring at the
blank wall, and closed the phone without another word.
Shit.
Two years and Danny was an AIC, had a house, a
new car, a wife, a baby on the way out on the East coast.
She had a fifty-gallon tank of fish, the same partner,
the same beat and fading squares on the walls where his
art used to be.
Life was stone-cold.
Sort of like her.
***
He watched her, walking into the dance studio -- it
was popular, offering lessons and exercise and yoga and
daycare for dozens of little ballet-shoe clad girls in
pigtails with harried looking mothers and older siblings
in baseball uniforms and karate uniforms and whatever
uniforms snarly, pitted-faced, bored teenagers wore
when they were forced to tag along with their middle-
class families and pretend to be bored. This was a
Saturday afternoon, so the place was mostly empty --
four couples in blue jeans and suede-soled boots taking
line dancing lessons, a troupe of tweens in cheerleader
uniforms and then the Saturday afternoon beginning
Pilates class.
Seventeen of them. Twelve women. Four men. And
his Angel.
He d been following the police officer the first time
he d noticed her -- the fierce, scowling police officer
with her hair hacked short like she had been attacked by
a psychotic child with a pair of blunt safety scissors,
wearing a too-big jacket to cover her breasts, her
midsection, her weapon as she investigated the dancer.
The big blond dancer who d interrupted him and his
Collars and Cuffs - 47
work. The man who d stopped the rhythm of his dance
and startled his beautiful bird. The smiling bastard
who d caught her attention, turned her head, made her
follow him, necklace dangling in her hand. Made her
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]