craggy-faced candy it wanted to taste.
Luckily for me, the moon fever had yet to fully begin.
I stopped when I reached the living room doorway and did a sweep of the room with my still-recording phone. There had definitely been a fight in this room—furniture was upturned, the TV and glass coffee table were smashed, and books and magazines scattered everywhere. So, if Dunleavy had fought for his life, why were there no marks on his body? Or could I simply not see them because he was lying on them?
Would I even see bruises on skin that had been stripped off?
The stench of shit was stronger here than anywhere else, but again, it was more human-based than the scent I associated with Gautier. Though that was here as well, just not as strong or as fresh. As I scanned the floor, looking for the source, I saw the feet.
Female feet, to be precise. Even from where I stood, I could see the pink nail polish on some of her toes. The rest of her body was covered by the upturned couch and several layers of book and magazine wreckage.
I glanced over my shoulder. Cole was kneeling beside an open bag, setting up the mobile recording device. Though why they called it mobile when it didn’t actually move anywhere, just hung from a ceiling and recorded a three-sixty view of the room, was anyone’s guess.
“There’s a second body in the living room. Hurry up with that thing.”
“Guardians are not supposed to interfere with investigations.” His voice was short, impatient.
“I don’t really care what guardians are and aren’t supposed to do.” Which was more of a truth than Cole would ever know—and a statement that would annoy the hell out of Jack when he heard it. Not that he’d be surprised by it, mind. “How about you quit worrying about what I’m supposed to be doing, and just put a little speed into what you’re supposed to be doing?”
“If you’d shut the fuck up and let me concentrate, I might be able to.”
I somehow managed to restrain my grin, and looked back at the wrecked living room. A glint in the left-hand corner of the room, near one of the rear windows, caught my eye. The sun had come out briefly from behind the clouds, and in the sudden beam of sunlight, something sparkled a pretty red. It didn’t look like the sort of sparkle you got with glass. Even glass covered in blood.
Frowning, I carefully picked my way through the mess. A muttered curse followed my steps, meaning Cole still hadn’t got the mobile unit together yet. I kept my phone on record and knelt near the shadows.
Sitting in the dust that had accumulated behind the now upturned TV was a ring. I recorded its position with the phone, then carefully picked it up. It was thick and silver and obviously worth a bit of money. Not the sort of thing a thief usually left lying about carelessly. So, where had it come from? Gautier? I’d never seen him wear rings or jewelry of any kind in the past. But then again, I’d never known he had a hankering for skinning before today, either. I suppose the ring could have belonged to Dunleavy—only this ring was designed for a man with thin fingers. Dunleavy had fat little sausages. And if he’d stolen it, he surely would have taken more care of it.
This ring would fit Gautier’s fingers. So, was it his? And was losing it accidental or intentional? With that psycho, anything was possible.
When I brought it into the sunlight the engraving on the heavy, flat top revealed itself. It was a dragon with three heads, its claws wicked barbed, and body snakelike. Six bloodred rubies gleamed in the dragon’s eyes.
Just looking at it had chills skating across my skin and I had no idea why.
“You are not supposed to be moving evidence.”
Cole’s sharp voice made me jump a little. I tried to cover the movement by turning the ring over in my hand and studying the inside of it. “I recorded its position.”
“That is not the point.”
“No, the point is I’m stepping into your territory and you
Luckily for me, the moon fever had yet to fully begin.
I stopped when I reached the living room doorway and did a sweep of the room with my still-recording phone. There had definitely been a fight in this room—furniture was upturned, the TV and glass coffee table were smashed, and books and magazines scattered everywhere. So, if Dunleavy had fought for his life, why were there no marks on his body? Or could I simply not see them because he was lying on them?
Would I even see bruises on skin that had been stripped off?
The stench of shit was stronger here than anywhere else, but again, it was more human-based than the scent I associated with Gautier. Though that was here as well, just not as strong or as fresh. As I scanned the floor, looking for the source, I saw the feet.
Female feet, to be precise. Even from where I stood, I could see the pink nail polish on some of her toes. The rest of her body was covered by the upturned couch and several layers of book and magazine wreckage.
I glanced over my shoulder. Cole was kneeling beside an open bag, setting up the mobile recording device. Though why they called it mobile when it didn’t actually move anywhere, just hung from a ceiling and recorded a three-sixty view of the room, was anyone’s guess.
“There’s a second body in the living room. Hurry up with that thing.”
“Guardians are not supposed to interfere with investigations.” His voice was short, impatient.
“I don’t really care what guardians are and aren’t supposed to do.” Which was more of a truth than Cole would ever know—and a statement that would annoy the hell out of Jack when he heard it. Not that he’d be surprised by it, mind. “How about you quit worrying about what I’m supposed to be doing, and just put a little speed into what you’re supposed to be doing?”
“If you’d shut the fuck up and let me concentrate, I might be able to.”
I somehow managed to restrain my grin, and looked back at the wrecked living room. A glint in the left-hand corner of the room, near one of the rear windows, caught my eye. The sun had come out briefly from behind the clouds, and in the sudden beam of sunlight, something sparkled a pretty red. It didn’t look like the sort of sparkle you got with glass. Even glass covered in blood.
Frowning, I carefully picked my way through the mess. A muttered curse followed my steps, meaning Cole still hadn’t got the mobile unit together yet. I kept my phone on record and knelt near the shadows.
Sitting in the dust that had accumulated behind the now upturned TV was a ring. I recorded its position with the phone, then carefully picked it up. It was thick and silver and obviously worth a bit of money. Not the sort of thing a thief usually left lying about carelessly. So, where had it come from? Gautier? I’d never seen him wear rings or jewelry of any kind in the past. But then again, I’d never known he had a hankering for skinning before today, either. I suppose the ring could have belonged to Dunleavy—only this ring was designed for a man with thin fingers. Dunleavy had fat little sausages. And if he’d stolen it, he surely would have taken more care of it.
This ring would fit Gautier’s fingers. So, was it his? And was losing it accidental or intentional? With that psycho, anything was possible.
When I brought it into the sunlight the engraving on the heavy, flat top revealed itself. It was a dragon with three heads, its claws wicked barbed, and body snakelike. Six bloodred rubies gleamed in the dragon’s eyes.
Just looking at it had chills skating across my skin and I had no idea why.
“You are not supposed to be moving evidence.”
Cole’s sharp voice made me jump a little. I tried to cover the movement by turning the ring over in my hand and studying the inside of it. “I recorded its position.”
“That is not the point.”
“No, the point is I’m stepping into your territory and you
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