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)
At the first scene, three months before, hallucinogens had been found in the abandoned building, next to the bodies of a man and a woman who were almost certainly homeless. Those two had gone at each other with their fists and fingernails, and at first glance, it appeared that the bloody scene was simply a case of a bad drug trip that had caused them to claw each other’s faces and then stab each other to death. And though there had been plenty of blood on both victims’ hands, no murder weapons had been found. Originally, it was surmised that perhaps another individual had come along and stolen the murder weapon or weapons. But it was strange that the drugs hadn’t also been stolen.
Then again, Ambrose thought, if the person who came upon a scene like that had any wits about them, they’d want no part of a substance that made you behave the way those two had.
The second case, a month ago, was similar to the first. Two homeless men had been found in a clearing in a park, the weird concoction of hallucinogens on the ground next to their bloody bodies. The medical examiner had determined they’d likely used a knife, or knives, on each other. But again, no weapons were found.
In both cases, no IDs had been made. Four people who had once frequented the streets in one neighborhood or another had disappeared, and no one had even noticed.
A heaviness pressed on his chest. The crimes described in the case files in front of him and the one he’d been at two days before had happened in three different neighborhoods, miles apart. And yet, the case had still come back to the TL. He wasn’t completely surprised. Something inside had known, hadn’t it? That’s why he was here. But he was even more unsettled than he’d been before. He—they—had to figure out what was going on. And if it was related to what he thought it was, they’d need to take care of it in whatever way necessary.
But he had a few leads, and he had the case files, so he’d acquired what he’d come here for. He could leave now, or he could stay and potentially collect even more. Because he had a strong feeling that whatever was going on had just gotten started.
Lennon came back into the room, where their desks sat next to each other, holding her own cup of coffee and sipping it as she walked slowly toward him.
She stopped to chat with a woman police inspector, bending forward slightly as she laughed. He didn’t like lying to her. He didn’t like lying in general, but especially to her. She acted sort of tough, but there was something vulnerable about her, something that told him maybe she’d been hurt. It was in the way she’d gazed at the people they’d passed, who were obviously suffering, on the streets of San Francisco. She was empathetic. She cared about others. Then again, maybe that didn’t have anything to do with something from her past. Maybe some people just came by that naturally.
Every once in a while, he still questioned his own assumptions, questioned what was innate under natural circumstances and what had to be learned in most. Practice knowing, a wise man had once told him. Everything you need to know is inside of you, he’d said, tapping Ambrose’s chest as though all life’s knowledge, his path, from beginning to end, were written on scrolls contained between his ribs. Or at least that’s what Ambrose liked to picture. It was all there, just inside, pressed against the underside of his skin. It’s just been covered up for a long time. So it will take practice. But it’s a worthwhile effort. Practice knowing.
And so he did. And one of those scrolls had told him that the crimes being committed here had everything to do with people he loved. Those imagined scrolls told him before he arrived that someone knew things they shouldn’t know, and now he had the evidence to back it up.
“Hey, Mars,” he heard from behind him and turned around. Lieutenant Byrd stood there, jacket on, briefcase in hand, obviously on his way out of the station. “I haven’t received your paperwork yet.”
Shit. His time here was ticking, and fast. “Really? Okay, I’ll call over and see what the holdup is.”
Byrd gave a nod and then raised his hand at the rest of the people working nearby and disappeared around the corner. Ambrose let out a long breath.
Lennon sat down in her chair as two officers came in, one stopping in front of the desk of the same female inspector Lennon had just been talking to. The other officer took a seat at an empty desk and bent his neck one way and then another.