Page 62 of Loving A Vampire Is Total Chaos

“Celine, here you go.” Captain Barnes huffs, now out of breath, and holds his own umbrella in one hand and an unused one in the other for me to take.

I give him a grateful smile as I open the umbrella to cover myself from the relentless downpour. “Thanks.”

I eye the scene before me, and Captain does the same.

“I think he might have an accomplice. Or at the very least a new muse,” I say softly. Rubbing a finger over my lip I scan over eyeballs plucked out of the man’s face and placed strategically to make a smiley within the limbs. “Something’s certainly changed.”

“What?” Captain asks, fuzzy brows knitting together.

“You asked why it’s different now.” I gesture to the crime scene and squat down. “The killer’s M.O. is the same, but the signature is slightly different. Whoever they are, they’re trying to make a statement.” I glance over my shoulder again, back to where I know my car is parked. I can’t see Zav from this distance but somehow I can still feel his eyes on me.

It’s hard not to shiver with how cold the rain has me in my soaked clothes, so I stand and shift from leg to leg to try and warm myself up.

“This killer? A statement?” A fellow detective asks with a scoff. “Every crime scene is a fucking statement piece.” He waves a hand in the general direction of the body although calling it a body is generous considering nothing is attached to anything at this point.

“I just mean serial killers like to use the same signature and posing to communicate something. Obviously, this is different and there’s some kind of reason behind it.”

Captain Barnes lets out a deep breath. “You’re on to something, Brennan. For it to change after all these murders there must’ve been something to cause this.”

The other detective huffs a laugh and mutters, “Maybe he got a girlfriend,” before walking off.

My frown deepens.

Dots are connecting right in front of me, ones I very much want to ignore.

The squad wraps up their on-site investigation and cop cars pull away as a few of us are left. Thankfully the rain lets up and allows us to put our umbrellas away.

It’s frustrating this case seems to go on and on without any path forward in sight. Even though I was recently assigned to it, I did my research, and it dates back years ago. Always executed in a gory positioning and somehow the killer manages to avoid cameras at every turn. Nobody is that good unless they have a lot of experience both with murder and getting away with it—or unless they’re not human.

Captain Barnes claps me on the shoulder. “Take the rest of the day. There’s not much we’re going to be able to do on this murder until evidence is processed.”

“But—” I protest.

He shakes his head. “Crime scenes like this take a strong mental toll. Believe me, I know, and you’re still dealing with the break-in. I’m just looking out for you, Celine.”

I nod. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

I trudge back to the car, shivering from my wet clothes.

“You need to put on dry clothes,” Zav says as soon as I open the car door. “I can’t have you catching a cold. I brought a fresh set for you. It’s in the back.”

My eyes dart from him to the backseat. Sure enough a set of my clothes rests on the bench.

When did he snag those and how did he know it was going to rain?

“Or we can head back to the apartment, and I can change there. Not in the back of my car. I’m not about to flash any pedestrians with my ass or boobs,” I gripe.

“I, personally, would welcome any flashing you’d like to do to me.” He gives me a smile that has my tummy doing somersaults. “But no, we aren’t going back quite yet. There’s somewhere we need to stop and it’s on this side of town. If we went back, it would be out of the way.” I can tell he’s trying to appease my more rational side. It doesn’t make sense to waste precious gas. Not in this economy. He pulls his thin chain out from under his sweater collar. “We’re already in a secluded section of the street, Celine. Nobody is going to see you.” The gleam in his eye tells me someone might and that someone is in this car.

With a sigh, and ignoring the raging storm of feelings attacking my stomach, I close the car door before opening the back and sliding in.

“Turn around,” I scold when he turns in his seat to watch me change. Like a kid that got caught in the cookie jar he slowly turns back around.

My face is probably a brilliant shade of red. I’ve never been the super confident type, and I can’t help it if my insecurities are raging their ugly head wondering what if he catches a peak and doesn’t like what he sees.

Silly, I know. Zav’s proved endlessly that he’s obsessed with me, but I’ve learned over the years that insecurities are rarely rooted in logic.

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