bits of glitter. The effect was oddly like being trapped inside a snow globe.
Hope didn’t dare ask how he’d done it. She worried her voice would give them away.
What if it was the killer coming back?
A door on the far side of the room opened and Hope saw the faintest edge of an aura slip through a moment before a man entered the room. From this distance, with sparkling flecks blocking her vision, she couldn’t see him clearly, but his aura was familiar.
Faded with time and bent with age, the halo of color surrounded the man, gliding along as his constant companion. Red streaks of pain slid through swaths of cool green acceptance. Pale golden strokes of happiness hovered behind him, and ahead of him was calm, fearless, brilliant hope. Sections of color were simply missing, as if his aura was too old and weary to fill in the gaps.
Hope had seen this before. It was the aura of the elderly—of those who were ready to go to meet their maker.
The man shuffled forward, a paper sack clenched in his gnarled hand. His plaid coat hung open, showing off baggy clothes beneath. He lifted his head, giving her a glimpse of his face.
“It’s Charlie,” she whispered close to Logan’s ear. “I know him. He’s harmless.”
The glittering column dissipated, taking with it the odd tingling energy that had created it.
“Hello, Charlie,” said Logan in a low, calm voice.
The man stopped in his tracks, clutching his sack to his chest. “Who’s there?”
Hope stepped forward so he could see her clearly, shining the flashlight on her face. “It’s me. Hope Serrien.”
The man sagged in relief. “Hell, girl. You nearly scared me out of my skin.”
“Sorry. What are you doing here?”
“The shelter was crowded. I couldn’t take it tonight, so I thought I’d slip up here for a bit. Who’s the fella?”
Logan ignored his question. “There’s blood on the floor. Do you know how it got there?”
Charlie’s rheumy eyes narrowed. “Son, you’d best leave that alone if you know what’s good for you.”
That sounded suspiciously like he did know.
Hope crossed the space, hurrying to his side. “Was it Rory? Was she here?”
“You’re a sweet girl. No good can come of you poking your nose into things. Understand?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t. If Rory was killed here, you would have reported it, right?”
Charlie turned around as if to leave. “The less I see, the safer I am. You, too.”
Hope took his arm, feeling his bones easily through the layers of clothing. “You have to tell me. I won’t make you talk to the police. I’ll do it myself.”
Charlie shook his shaggy head. “Girl, there’s nothing the police can do to fix some things. What happened here is one of them. You’d best leave it be. Walk away.”
“Perhaps I can help,” said Logan.
Charlie looked him up and down, wearing a dismissive expression. “If so, I’ll eat my hat.”
“You’re afraid. Understandably so. But I assure you that if there is some kind of creature lurking here, I’m more capable of dispatching it than any policeman would be.”
“That so?” asked Charlie.
“It is.”
“What makes you think it’s some kind of creature?”
Logan’s chest expanded with a frustrated breath, but it didn’t come out in a sigh. “I killed one here last night. Typically, these things congregate in nests. When you see one, there are more lurking nearby.”
“Like cockroaches.”
“Precisely.”
“Guess I need to find myself a new place to sleep, then.”
Hope couldn’t let him get away. Not until she knew the truth. “Please, Charlie. At least tell me if it was Rory. I have to know what happened to her.”
The old man paused, his thin lips mashing together in hesitation. “I didn’t see who it was. By the time I got here, her head was already gone. There were things feeding on her, though. And they weren’t no rats.”
An image of Rory’s lifeless body being gnawed away by animals flashed in Hope’s
Hope didn’t dare ask how he’d done it. She worried her voice would give them away.
What if it was the killer coming back?
A door on the far side of the room opened and Hope saw the faintest edge of an aura slip through a moment before a man entered the room. From this distance, with sparkling flecks blocking her vision, she couldn’t see him clearly, but his aura was familiar.
Faded with time and bent with age, the halo of color surrounded the man, gliding along as his constant companion. Red streaks of pain slid through swaths of cool green acceptance. Pale golden strokes of happiness hovered behind him, and ahead of him was calm, fearless, brilliant hope. Sections of color were simply missing, as if his aura was too old and weary to fill in the gaps.
Hope had seen this before. It was the aura of the elderly—of those who were ready to go to meet their maker.
The man shuffled forward, a paper sack clenched in his gnarled hand. His plaid coat hung open, showing off baggy clothes beneath. He lifted his head, giving her a glimpse of his face.
“It’s Charlie,” she whispered close to Logan’s ear. “I know him. He’s harmless.”
The glittering column dissipated, taking with it the odd tingling energy that had created it.
“Hello, Charlie,” said Logan in a low, calm voice.
The man stopped in his tracks, clutching his sack to his chest. “Who’s there?”
Hope stepped forward so he could see her clearly, shining the flashlight on her face. “It’s me. Hope Serrien.”
The man sagged in relief. “Hell, girl. You nearly scared me out of my skin.”
“Sorry. What are you doing here?”
“The shelter was crowded. I couldn’t take it tonight, so I thought I’d slip up here for a bit. Who’s the fella?”
Logan ignored his question. “There’s blood on the floor. Do you know how it got there?”
Charlie’s rheumy eyes narrowed. “Son, you’d best leave that alone if you know what’s good for you.”
That sounded suspiciously like he did know.
Hope crossed the space, hurrying to his side. “Was it Rory? Was she here?”
“You’re a sweet girl. No good can come of you poking your nose into things. Understand?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t. If Rory was killed here, you would have reported it, right?”
Charlie turned around as if to leave. “The less I see, the safer I am. You, too.”
Hope took his arm, feeling his bones easily through the layers of clothing. “You have to tell me. I won’t make you talk to the police. I’ll do it myself.”
Charlie shook his shaggy head. “Girl, there’s nothing the police can do to fix some things. What happened here is one of them. You’d best leave it be. Walk away.”
“Perhaps I can help,” said Logan.
Charlie looked him up and down, wearing a dismissive expression. “If so, I’ll eat my hat.”
“You’re afraid. Understandably so. But I assure you that if there is some kind of creature lurking here, I’m more capable of dispatching it than any policeman would be.”
“That so?” asked Charlie.
“It is.”
“What makes you think it’s some kind of creature?”
Logan’s chest expanded with a frustrated breath, but it didn’t come out in a sigh. “I killed one here last night. Typically, these things congregate in nests. When you see one, there are more lurking nearby.”
“Like cockroaches.”
“Precisely.”
“Guess I need to find myself a new place to sleep, then.”
Hope couldn’t let him get away. Not until she knew the truth. “Please, Charlie. At least tell me if it was Rory. I have to know what happened to her.”
The old man paused, his thin lips mashing together in hesitation. “I didn’t see who it was. By the time I got here, her head was already gone. There were things feeding on her, though. And they weren’t no rats.”
An image of Rory’s lifeless body being gnawed away by animals flashed in Hope’s
Similar Books
