Collared by TA Moore

Author:TA Moore [Moore, TA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal
ISBN: 978-1-64405-717-9
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2020-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

5

“THE DEVIL made me do it” is what people say when every other justification has fallen by the wayside. The truth is, the devil never coerces anyone to do anything. It’s more fun to let us get there on our own. And we do.

THEY WERE miles and years apart, but somehow the Craven and Jasper police stations smelled the same—blood, fear, and a whiff of Hell worked into the mortar like blood. It was always one of the last places that Hell blossomed in a town—creepy slaughterhouse stories are urban legends, but if all the police in town suddenly murder their families, that’s national news—but it was always the quickest to succumb.

Too many bad things soaked into the walls—the seventy-two hours a murderer spent behind bars while he replayed every squeal of his victims in his head to get to sleep, the tears of an innocent man in the wrong time at the wrong place, a crooked cop’s lust as he unlocked a door and made a scared drunk girl a sick offer. None of that ever went away, and it was like compost for Hell’s bloom.

Jack slouched back against the wall in reception, a crumpled “See Something, Say Something” under his shoulders, and tried not to think about the last time he was there. It was a fool’s game, of course. The more he tried not to think about something, the more vivid it was. He was still the only one who knew why Detective Jenny Stillman had killed herself and that it hadn’t made much difference. None of it had gone away.

The desk sergeant on duty looked up as though the bleak turn of Jack’s thoughts had made him uncomfortable. He checked the time and reached for the phone.

“…still here,” he muttered as he swung his chair away from Jack. “I don’t care. If Ambrose isn’t here yet, send someone else. Just get rid of him.”

He hung up and swung back around, a fake smile on his narrow face. “Someone will be with you shortly, sir.”

Jack crossed his arms. “Don’t worry,” he said grimly. “I’ll wait.”

The desk sergeant stared at him for a second and then made another call. This time he took the phone into the back office. Jack only caught the stressed words of the conversation, “fuck” and “now” and “creepy bastard.”

Jack would have been offended, but there was no point. No one liked someone who reminded them of things they worked so hard to forget. Everyone in the Craven PD, except the rankest of rookies, had seen things their sanity depended on explaining away.

Five minutes later a fat man with a detective’s badge clipped to his belt came down to reception, halfway into his jacket. Detective Harris Elroy had been fifty pounds lighter and a lot happier before his die-hard skepticism had, well, died. He stopped in front of Jack without looking at him and glanced sidelong at the desk sergeant.

“I’m going for lunch,” he said stiffly. Sweat stained his shirt, and dark crescents were

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