THIRD (DC After Dark Book 1) by Robin Covington

Author:Robin Covington [Covington, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780990543282
Publisher: Burning Up the Sheets, LLC.
Published: 2017-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

Thirty-One

A DC After Dark Novel

by Robin Covington

Thirty-Two

AIDEN

Senator Nathan Marsden was dead and as naked as the day he was born.

I crouched down beside the king-sized bed, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as I took in the all-too-familiar scene before me. Not that I'm used to seeing dead national-level politicians every day. Contrary to the constant parade of thriller movies with dead senators and judges littering the streets, it doesn't happen that often in Washington DC. Street people, junkies, gang bangers, sad domestic cases . . . that's the usual victim I'm called to see in their worst moment and then charged to catch whatever shit bag did them in.

Very rarely was the victim a guy whose face was splashed all over the cover of TIME magazine.

I swore under my breath, already wondering whose karma I pissed on to catch such a high-profile case. I could look forward to everybody in DC with any connection to this case to be up my ass 24/7 until this one closed. Fuck.

The room was very quiet except for the sounds of technical crews doing their part to catch a killer. The air was rank with the odor of death and sex, the vibe in the atmosphere all wrong. Each scene felt off and finding out what caused it was usually the first step to solving the case.

For a dead guy he didn't look too bad. I'd definitely seen worse. His pale body, eyes wide open and covered in the haze of death, was sprawled in the middle of a mess of sheets. Legs splayed wide, his flaccid cock lying against his thigh. He was in shape, a healthy male in his mid-thirties who took care of himself. The bullet hole in his chest and the dark spread of blood under his body were out of place in the upscale surroundings of the hotel room. This was not a by-the-hour joint, catering to the rich and self-important who flocked to DC to broker deals, make money, or fuck somebody over. I wondered which vice lead to the bullet in the chest of the up-and-coming junior Senator from some square state in the middle of the country. I could predict some unhappy Bible-toting constituents who probably weren't going to be okay with why and how this went down.

"What's the estimated time of death?" I asked the M.E. kneeling on the opposite side of the three-billion thread count sheets. I didn't know this one, just one of the new faces in that office that appeared on a semi-regular basis. She was small, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, her eyes tired and I wondered how long she'd stick around. The Office of the Medical Examiner was busy and it wasn't the place for everyone.

Just like the Homicide Division wasn't for every cop. No, you had to be my particular brand of crazy asshole to endure year after year of people killing each other and still love the job. And I fucking loved the job.

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