Page 46 of Deadly Lineage
I felt torn but knew where my loyalties lay, and it was with the man kneeling beside me. “Harrison, you okay?” I asked.
“No,” she quickly answered. “No, I’m not, O’Hare. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again. Fucking shit, what the hell wasthat?” She pointed a finger in the victim’s direction. “Is that what the others have been like?”
I’d already discussed the case with Detective Harrison, but seeing truly was different than hearing it second hand.
“It is,” Boone answered before I could. “It’s exactly like the others, only…he’s a shifter, Franklin.”
Boone’s neck twisted until he could look me in the eyes. “That’s why he’s like that—caught between forms. His soul’s shredded just like the others. The best I can explain, his body is the physical representation of what was done to his essence. The killer ripped him apart on the inside, and since he’s a shifter, his physical form reflects that horror.”
“Christ,” Harrison swore. “This is worse than awful. Who would do something like that?”
Boone moved and made to stand. My hands immediately went to his waist, helping him up. Boone leaned heavily on me as we made our way back to the window. I helped him settle on the windowsill and held out the second piece of unwrapped candy.
“Thanks, Franklin,” Boone said before popping the sweet into his mouth. He sucked on it in silence for a bit until he finally said, “We’re assuming whoever’s doing this is doing it on purpose.”
Harrison and I exchanged a questioning glance before she said gruffly, “Explain.”
Boone didn’t act offended by the harsh tone. “I’m not exactly certain, only… The killer has to be getting something out of this.” Boone waved his hand in the victim’s general direction. “This isn’t something one typically does for shits and giggles.”
“Not everyone has your moral code,” Harrison said, and I reluctantly agreed. The world would be a much better place if Erasmus Boone’s moral compass led the way.
“No, I know that. All I’m saying is that the killer’s gone through a lot of effort. They buried the first body in someoneelse’s grave, dumped the second into a lake, and hauled this one into an abandoned house in a crime-riddled neighborhood. That’s a lot of effort to go to if they aren’t gettingsomethingout of it.”
“Something beyond sick emotional gratification,” I pondered.
“Exactly,” Boone agreed. “I said their souls feel shredded and I hold to that, but you could describe it other ways, like the fabric analogy I gave you the other day.”
“The fabric analogy?” Harrison asked. Boone quickly gave her the rundown. Her eyes slowly widened with understanding. “So, what you’re saying is that the killer is taking something from the victims?”
Boone shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m just throwing a theory out there. I think we’d have to know who the killer is and what they’re after to know that for certain. What I can tell you is that who we are, who everyone is, is tightly intertwined with our souls. The physical, emotional, magical—all of it’s connected. If you take one part away, then—”
“You take other parts too,” I finished, and Boone nodded.
Silence filled the room as Harrison and I contemplated Boone’s idea. It made sense, and yet I wasn’t sure how that helped us find our killer.
“Careful, doc. The floor’s falling apart.” Johns’s warning indicated Dr. McCallister had finally arrived.
“Thank you, but I believe I’ll be fine,” McCallister argued back. His footfalls sounded heavier than I’d expect for a man his size as he climbed the stairs. He’d just reached the doorway when a loud crack echoed through the space.
Instinct made me lunge for the door even though I didn’t have a prayer of reaching it before McCallister fell through.
With surprising agility and speed, McCallister hopped to the side, avoiding injury. He stared at the hole and the piece of flooring now lying on the level below.
“Are you okay, Doc?” Harrison asked, pushing past me and hurrying to the doctor’s side. “The whole place is rotten. We’ve all walked over that spot. It must have been weaker than we thought and all our activity stressed it further.” Harrison grinned and released a tension-laced laugh. “Excellent reflexes though, Doc. I’m not sure I would have been that quick.”
McCallister blinked before his finger tried to push up a nonexistent pair of glasses. Clearing his throat, McCallister said, “Yes, well, I’ve been taking some classes, and…” His chin raised and his nose twitched before the color drained from his face.
Harrison’s eyes flew wide, the signs clear. Quickly pushing the coroner back into the hall, Harrison managed to avoid the new hole while getting McCallister as far from the crime scene as possible. Boone and I cringed when we heard the sound of McCallister’s retching.
“Puking is the worst,” Boone said, voice hushed.
I didn’t disagree, but I was unsettled. I’d been to dozens of crime scenes with McCallister, several fouler smelling than this, and I’d never seen him toss his cookies. Maybe he’d contracted a stomach bug.
I couldn’t make out Harrison’s comforting words, only their soft cadence. I was staring at the doorway when Boone jumped and said, “Gaia, I need to put a bell on you.”
My head whipped around and my lips parted while my hand automatically went to my service weapon. In one swift move I reached around Boone and shoved his body behind me. I had the business end of my gun levered on the strange creature with glowing, Caribbean-blue eyes before she could blink. I didn’t know who or what this was, but they weren’t getting near Boone.
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