Page 42 of Oohs, Ahhhs, and Orbs

I ran a hand through my hair and had the fleeting thought that I needed to make time for a haircut. “Not good. She sensed it, I guess. She woke up crying and begged me to check on Mrs. Donaldson.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” I replied and looked toward the open door. Together we walked up to the porch and walked inside the warm, inviting family home. The Donaldsons were in their forties and had two grown children. Luckily, both were away at college and hadn’t been in the house.

When I stepped into the living room, I took in the carnage. The blood was still fresh, and the room smelled of the candles that were still burning, slowly melting into the carpet. The scent of blood was easy to recognize over the candle wax, though. Loud sobs could be heard from the direction of the kitchen, where I guessed Officer Moody had taken Mr. Donaldson to keep him away from the crime scene as well as to spare him from having to stare at the dead body of his wife.

The scene was identical to the previous two. All the furniture had been moved aside to make room for the killer to work their magic. The circle was drawn with what I would bet was chalk, the same as before. Bundles of herbs were placed in strategic locations along with the same type of stones. I had the brief thought that all of the items used for the gruesome ritual could have come from Oohs, Ahhhs, and Orbs, and Bridgette might have never realized the things were missing.

“Has Bridgette checked her inventory to see if any of this shit came from her shop?” Mac asked me as he looked around, just as I was.

I blew out a breath and ran my hand through my hair again, yanking on the strands. “I had the same thought. It’s a possibility that the killer has been in to buy this fucking shit. They could have been face to face with her and she never fucking knew.”

“Hey,” Mac said, walking over and placing a hand on my shoulder. “She’s safe at home, right?” I grunted in confirmation. “Then try not to stress out. We’ll have her look first thing in the morning. She can check receipts. If the killer did purchase their stuff from Bridgette’s shop, hopefully, they paid with a card, and we can track them down.

I didn’t think for a second it was going to be that easy, but agreed. I scanned over the body and looked for anything that was different from the other murders. Every single thing seemed to be identical down to the position of the body.

Movement at the door caught my attention, and I straightened. I lifted my arm to shake the head tech’s hand. “Sorry it’s so late.” I received a grunt and a nod, not expecting anything more. The crime techs were known for their quiet, antisocial demeanors.

Mac and I stood back, watching the techs work and listening to the mournful tears of a man who I expected had lost his soulmate. I crossed my arms and looked out the window, the dim rays of a first-quarter moon shining through the glass.

“Detectives,” one of the techs called out. “I found something.”

Chapter

Twenty-Two

LOGAN

Istood in front of my Captain’s desk, my hands folded behind my back and my jaw set in a firm line. Every so often my eyes would land on the evidence bag sitting on his desk and my blood would start boiling all over again.

“She’s done, Storm!”

I eyed the man whom I’d respected for the last several years and gritted my teeth. “She’s the only help I have on this case, Captain.”

I watched as he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I get what you’re saying, but her DNA was found at the scene of a murder, Storm. She’s off the case.”

I wanted to punch the wall as I clenched my fists at my sides and let my eyes drop back to the evidence bag again. “She wasn’t there, sir.”

“I don’t give a fuck if she was there or not!” he shouted as his fist slammed down on the wooden desktop. “I’ve had the Commissioner up my ass for the last two weeks and haven’t been able to tell him fuck all about this investigation. Now my lead Detective’s girlfriend’s DNA was at the latest scene of fuckingmurder. What do you think he will have to say? You’re damn lucky I’m not pullingyouoff the case as well. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were thinking with your fucking cock instead of that brain of yours.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’ve never let my cock get in the way of anything.Sir,” I ground out.

“And that’s the only reason you’re still active on this investigation, Storm.” He pointed his finger at me and narrowed his eyes. “She doesn’t help you. You don’t talk to her about it. You don’t casually mention details or anything regarding this case at all. Do you hear me, Storm? She’s officially in the dark, or you will be joining her there while your badge rots in my desk drawer. Have I made myself understood?”

“Crystal,” I growled.

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my office and catch me a goddamn killer!”

I looked back at the evidence bag that had a long strand of dark red hair that could be no one else’s but Bridgette’s. I wanted to burn the fucking thing, to forget that it existed. How the fuck the killer managed to get my mate’s hair and then plant it in the hand of Mrs. Donaldson was a mystery that I desperately wanted to solve. With one last nod to the Captain, I turned on my heel and stalked out of his office.

I walked past the center of the room where officers and detectives were milling about or pretending to work. I wasn’t stupid. I knew the reason why there were so many more bodies standing around was because they’d heard the news that one of our own had a girlfriend who was associated with a murder case. The stupid fucks were placing bets on whether or not Bridgette was a goddamn serial killer.

I heard a snicker and jerked my head around to see who the fuck thought that my life was a fucking joke. Nothing about this situation was funny. While these idiots were thinking that it washilarious that a homicide detective was fucking a serial killer they failed to see that Bridgette wasn’t a fucking suspect. No. The fucking killer basically painted a bullseye on her forehead. And now my Captain thought it was wise to cut her out of the investigation altogether, all because his boss said so.

No one was looking at me when I turned on my heel, all pretending to be working. I turned in a circle. All I could do was glare in warning. I needed one motherfucker to challenge me so I could let some of the frustration out that was building inside me. I felt like a pressure valve that was ready to explode.

After shooting one last snarl at a beat cop who had no business being on this floor, I turned back, heading in the direction I had been going. I slammed into the men’s restroom, not caring that the door hit the wall so hard that bits of plaster rained down from the place the door handle had impacted.

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