Savannah Savior: A Meredeth Connelly Mind Hunt Thriller (Meredeth Connelly Mind Hunt Thrillers) by E.H. Vick

Author:E.H. Vick [Vick, E.H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Meredeth Connelly Mind Hunt Thrillers
Publisher: Dark Triad Publishing
Published: 2022-05-28T06:00:00+00:00

The buzzing wouldn’t stop, no matter how tightly Meredeth squeezed her eyes shut. She rolled on her side and clamped a pillow over her aching head, and as she did so, a cold, wet washcloth—the remains of her previous night’s attempt to curb the monster eating her head from the inside out—dribbled down onto her neck. Heaving herself over, she snatched her phone off the nightstand and pressed it to her ear. “What?” she snapped.

“Good morning, Mere,” said Van Zandt.

“Dammit, Bobby, I just got to sleep and‍—‍”’

“It’s five-thirteen, Meredeth. And anyway, there’s another body in the Savannah River.”

“What? When?”

“I just took the call from Bristol. He’s on his way over here to fetch us.”

Her stomach roiled, and the red and blues danced in the edges of her vision. “Who? Where?”

“The vic’s identity is unknown at this point. She’s on a muddy bank, same as the rest. This time a little past the Talmadge Memorial Bridge in the Savannah. The good news is we can get there without the boat ride.”

Her mind moved sluggishly, her thoughts feeble, and her tongue tasted of dryer lint. “Boat…” She shook her head. “Four o’clock, you said?”

“Five-fifteen, now. Bristol will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Twenty.”

“Yeah. Listen, Mere…”

She waited, but he said no more. “What? What, Bobby?”

“Are you…fit to go to the scene?”

“Fit? Of course, I’m fit.”

“It’s just that you sound…off, and you did go to the‍—‍”

“Off? What the hell does that even mean, Van Zandt?” Normally, she wouldn’t have spoken to Bobby in such a querulous tone, but with the ravening monster behind her eye, she found it difficult to care if she was being rude to her partner or not.

“Well… Did you…”

Her head throbbed as her anger stirred. “Spit it out.”

“Did you eat?”

“No.”

“Oh. I, uh… Okay. We’ll stop and get you some food.”

“I don’t want food, Van Zandt. What’s wrong with you this morning?”

“Nothing, Mere. It’s just that you sound…funny.”

“Funny? Funny, how? Funny like a clown or funny like I’m from Toledo?”

“You’re slurring a little.”

“It’s four in the damn morning, Bobby! You woke me out of a deep sleep—so deep I feel like I just lay down.”

Bobby grunted. “It’s five, Mere.”

“Give me a break. It was one drink to put this headache to bed.”

“Ah. And did it work?”

“Now, don’t you start.” She sighed and pushed herself to her feet. She stumbled to the side a step, a little overbalanced, and bile surged in her guts.

“No judgment, Mere. How’s your head?”

Clamping her teeth together against the sick, she grunted and lurched over to the ice bucket. Tearing the paper protector off one of the plastic coffee cups that came with the room, she dipped a cup of ice water out of the bucket and sipped, gritting her teeth to combat the nausea the taste of the water evoked. She forced another swallow down her throat and set the cup aside. “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “My head’s fine.”

“Yeah? You sound like it.”

“Are you going to need me to repeat every answer to every goddamn question from now on? Christ, Bobby, the drink wasn’t worth all this mother-henning.

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