Writhe: A Vile Tale of Psychosis... and Bloodworms by Erica Summers & H. M. Wohl

Author:Erica Summers & H. M. Wohl [Summers, Erica & Wohl, H. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rusty Ogre Publishing
Published: 2024-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

December 30th

4:15 p.m.

In the locker room back at the Midtown North Precinct, Luca’s mind whirled with gory mental snapshots, each depicting some element of the crime scene at the convenience store from the night before.

The young woman’s broken jaw.

The blood-filled gouges on her face.

The floating in her throat.

The look of terror plastered on her ruined face.

Clearly, it had been a frenzied attack. Unplanned. Chaotic.

The image of her punctured, dangling eyeball, like a split grape on a bloodied stem, made his stomach lurch.

Lost in thought, Luca was startled by the painful sting of an overzealous slap on his back.

“Morning, Han. Heard you were hiding out here,” Mel teased. She plopped on the worn wooden bench beside him and noted the bags under his bloodshot eyes. “Hello? Earth to Han? Ugh, you look like shit.”

Luca’s gaze was transfixed on a red speck in the confetti’d epoxy floor, reminding him of a drop of the woman’s blood. His mind shot back to the bloody fingerprints on the white tile floor.

Mel waved her hand in front of his face. Luca seemed to stare straight through it. “Han, what the fuck? You’re a million miles away.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” She fired back, making a sour face.

“Why her? Why that particular convenience store? It wasn’t robbed. Cash was still in the register. He didn’t even care about leaving fingerprints… or footprints. He just fucking… brutalized her.”

“You’re still stuck on that, huh?” Tredo snickered callously.

That got Luca’s attention. “What the hell do you mean? Are you not still stuck on that? You didn’t lose a wink of sleep last night over that fucking horror show?”

“We aren’t medical examiners. We aren’t CSI’s. We’re beat cops. We take calls. We arrive first. We protect the scene. We take witness statements. We write reports. Then… we dust ourselves off and start each day anew. That’s what we do. That’s how we survive. That’s how we have any kinda longevity in this career. That’s all we can control.”

“How can you be so cavalier about this? A person fucking died.”

Mel frowned. “People die every day, Han. Some in more horrible ways than others. One died, but the other million-and-a-half need you.” She scrubbed the floor with her shoe. “I need you.”

Luca felt his melancholic heart leap. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because if you aren’t here, they’re gonna stick me with Fisher. I hate that guy. He has no sense of humor, and his coffee breath is fucking rancid.” She winked.

Luca chuckled.

A pale, redheaded officer rounded the corner and jumped like a frightened cat. He clutched the towel around his waist, skin still glistening from the shower.

“What the fuck, Tredo! Captain told you to stay the hell outta here. What if I was walking around with my dick out?”

“Your dick is already out,” Mel fired back. “It’s that fuckin round thing on your shoulders.”

“Fuck you,” the startled cop snapped back.

“You wish, O’Brien.” Mel Tredo rose and waltzed past O’Brien. “Han, let’s roll.”

Luca snatched his duty belt and followed Tredo out.

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