Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“Thanks, Clyde.”
Ambrose walked with Lennon out to her city-issued vehicle and got in the passenger side. He pulled his seat belt over his chest and then looked at Lennon, who was now just sitting there, moving her fingers distractedly on the steering wheel as she stared out the window. She stretched and tapped as though playing on an invisible set of piano keys. “What are you thinking about?” he asked her.
“I was thinking about the items we found at the first two scenes. I’ll have to look back at the list because I don’t remember it all. Mostly, it was stuff the victims carried around in their backpacks or bags . . . extra clothing, a blanket, a hairbrush, et cetera.” She paused. “But at the first scene, there was a belt lying near the man.”
“Were there other things strewn around, or just that?”
“Just that, which is why I remember it. The other things were cataloged from the bags lying nearby. No identifying information, but it all seemed like stuff a homeless individual would carry with them.”
“But the belt had been removed.”
“Yes. And it was right near the man’s body, just like the teddy bear at the most recent crime scene.”
Ambrose thought about that. “Are you thinking those specific items are clues? Or . . . messages?”
She played a few inaudible notes on the steering wheel again. “Maybe. Or maybe the belt is a prop like the teddy bear, also used as part of a role-play.”
“What sort of role-play would involve a belt?” Although he had his own ideas, ideas that were making him more and more uncomfortable by the moment. In fact, a feeling of mild dread was beginning to drift nearer. He wanted to know what the inspector thought, however. She was familiar with murder scenes, while he was not. Not only that, but he had his preformed suspicions, and he didn’t want those to get in the way of clear sight.
“Well,” she said. “There’s the obvious bondage angle. S and M? Fifty shades of fucked up?”
He huffed out a small chuckle. “A singular belt is a pretty skimpy prop collection for a domination scenario.”
“Red rooms of pain are expensive. Our victims weren’t exactly rolling in dough.” She frowned as she ran her tongue over her teeth. “But yeah, one belt doesn’t tell us a lot. It might be a role-play, and it might just have fallen out of one of their bags.”
“Or one of them could have removed it to use as a weapon.”
“Maybe, but there was no blood or tissue found on it.”
He looked away out the passenger-side window as he pictured the photographs he’d seen of the two people who’d died bloody deaths in the abandoned building, thinking about what exactly might have happened there. Lennon had proposed that the belt might have been a prop because she’d made a guess that the toys at the other scene were used that way. But . . . “We have no direct evidence the teddy bear was part of a role-play, so this line of thinking might be moot.”
“No, I know. I’m just thinking aloud.” She turned toward him. “It helps me sort through things. Does it bother you?” There was no sarcasm in her voice. She seemed to be posing an honest question, and so he took a moment to think about it.
He usually worked alone, so it’d never been an issue. But for Inspector Lennon Gray? It wouldn’t be a sacrifice. “It’s not my usual style, but I can adjust.”
She let out a small breathy laugh, and in the bright daylight of the car, he could see the faded freckles scattered across her nose. The glow caught the golden hazel of her eyes and brought out the pale ring of green. Her eyes were like the clearing he’d once stood in in the redwood forest, gazing up at those impossibly massive trees as sunlight seeped between the gaps in their feathery branches. He’d closed his eyes and felt connected to some greater whole even while he’d never been more aware of his own smallness. There had been something . . . wonderful about that feeling. A letting-go. An acceptance. An understanding that was beyond him and yet was more real than anything he’d ever experienced before that moment. And for whatever reason, he felt some small remnant of that feeling now, though he couldn’t begin to explain it, couldn’t imagine how that moment and this one were remotely similar. “I appreciate that, Mars,” she said. “There might be hope for this partnership yet.”
He smiled. He couldn’t even remember what she was responding to, his mind had drifted so far away. But regardless of why, he liked what she’d said. And despite his deep uneasiness about this case, he hoped that was true, because he enjoyed being around this woman who was a confusing mix of traits that he hadn’t yet managed to make sense of. Typically, that bothered him. He liked categorizing things, identifying and naming them. He found comfort and satisfaction in both the process and the result. But in Lennon’s case, he didn’t mind being in somewhat uncharted territory. Interesting. What is it about you that makes me comfortable with a lack of boundaries?