Page 7 of Crown of Death
I wrap my arms around myself, even though it isn’t cold. I shake my head as my eyes wander down the street I know so well. “It was awful. I mean, this woman’s head was ripped—and I meanripped—from her body. It looked like…I don’t know, it’d been clawed off, or chewed on. And every bit of her was bruised and beaten. It was just so…inhumane.”
My eyes drift back to Eli’s. And that darkness that always resides in them, it grows a little more black. A littledeeper.
“How long ago was she killed?” he asks. And something in his voice soundstight.
I slide my hands into my back pockets. “Over two weeks ago. And the family wanted an open casket. I’ve…I’ve never had to do so much work on abody.”
Eli remains quiet, which isn’t unusual. He isn’t the most talkative person. But it feels weighted. Contemplative. I look into his face, trying to decipher what he’sthinking.
And he realizes I’m watching him. He blinks twice, his eyes coming back into focus. “I’m sorry today was so hard for you, Logan. It sounds like you could use somesleep.”
I nod, indeed feeling incredibly tired, like I could sleep from now until noon tomorrow. “Yeah,” Isay.
“I’ll meet you at your place tomorrow for our run?” he asks as he backs toward hiscar.
“See you tomorrow,” Isay.
Eli tries to give me a little smile before he slips into his car, but it’s tiny, and absolutely forced. He shuts the car door, starts theengine.
And tears off into the darkening evening, wheels spinning on theconcrete.
Chapter 3
Iwatchthe city move along, though it’s still sleepy on a Saturday at eight in the morning. A van full of kids drives by, the windows down. Noise spills out, a shrill scream from a baby cuts through the day. A couple on a bicycle speeds by, dressed in full gear. The coffee shop across the street only has a few caffeine-fueled customers at thispoint.
In my running gear, I wait, leaning against my car, watching forEli.
It’s been a tradition ever since he moved so close in Greendale. Eli is ripped and in incredible physical shape. Maybe he stays so fit because of his job, I don’t really know. But he likes to run. And I started running with him. So, every Saturday morning for the past nearly two years, we gorunning.
He’s always harping on me about staying in good physical shape. Once I got over myself and realized he wasn’t trying to call me fat, I came to see that he was saying it because he’s always been a little over-protective. He is the one, after all, who has told me how to protect myself from parking lot predators. The one who has showed me how to flip a grown man over my shoulder. Who showed me all the right places to strike if anyone came afterme.
The black car rounds into the parking lot and I stand, watching as Eli climbs out ofit.
He wears a tight black athletic t-shirt and track pants. Every bit of it highlights his tonedphysique.
But the second I meet his eyes, I know that something’soff.
“Ready?” he asks without a friendly word of greeting. He just nods his head down the road, down our usualpath.
“Uh, yeah,” I stumble through words. I scramble to my feet and follow after him. We cross the parking lot, and round to the sidewalk that cuts through the main part oftown.
“I did some research about the woman you told me about last night,” he immediately says as soon as we start jogging. I look over at him, my brows furrowed. He only stares forward with intense eyes. “The police found her just a block fromhere.”
My stomach flops, and rolls over, and at the same time my heart decides to try a little backflip. “Are youserious?”
Eli nods. “Just one block in the other direction. Between your apartment and your work. The police found her body, but no traces of who did that to her. They first suspected it might be an animalattack.”
“But those bruise and scratch marks,” I say, the sight of her black and blue flesh flashing across my vision. “Those were made by humanhands.”
Eli nods once more. “The police haven’t found any leads as to who did this. No suspects. For as much damage as they did, they left very littleevidence.”
I shake my head, huffing a bit as my heart rate increases and my lungs have to work a little harder. “So this person is still runningaround?”
“Two nights ago, another woman was attacked,” Eli says, and now he does give a little look in my direction. “On the other side ofGreendale.”
My step falters, and I catch myself before I trip. Eli slows, looking back at me, but we continuejogging.
“Same injuries?” I question, fearful of what the answer mightbe.