worry,” she said. “I’ll take care of you ’til then. Don’t you think he has beautiful eyes, Zach?”
21
T he clatter of silverware startled him, and Danny jerked up his head. Five thirty. Where the hell was Zach?
He stared at his notes, which trailed into an indecipherable scrawl down the page. It didn’t matter. If Zach was right, Kevin was wrong. The Inferno wasn’t a sex club. It owned clubs.
Danny rubbed his eyes. He signaled the waitress and stared at the fat, red plastic elf that sat propped against his menu holder. It leered at him through beady eyes and held up a sign that read, “Happiness Is a Holiday Heart!”
Danny looked up when the waitress approached with a pot of coffee. Her Santa cap jingled with each step, and he wondered how any human could maintain a holiday facade at this ungodly hour. She gave him a cheerful smile.
“Y’want anything else, hon? A donut for the road?”
“No, but thanks. Hey, nice hat.”
She winked and slapped his bill on the blue Formica table. “Have a great day.”
*
Clammy, warm air greeted him when Danny walked out of the diner and up toward the side street where he parked. In three hours, the temperature had risen thirty degrees. Thick fingersof mist curled around the lights and floated in ribbons of gray across the rain-slick street. A few cars and trucks passed up and down Spring Garden. In the murky darkness, their headlights glowed like lidless eyes.
He glanced around and wondered if Beth ever watched him from wherever she was. Sometimes he thought he could feel her with him in the darkness. A whisper he couldn’t quite discern, her hand almost brushing his. Or maybe the memory of love was strongest, most bittersweet, when love itself was irretrievably lost.
He reached the Jeep and hit the keyless entry button. Nothing happened. The lights didn’t blink. The car sat, silent and dark. What the fuck was this?
He took a step closer and saw the doors were unlocked. Maybe it worked after all. Christ, he was more out of it than he thought.
Danny yanked at the handle and swung open the door. The overhead light snapped on, and he stared down at his seat. It took a second for his brain to process the lump of tissue congealing in a gooey mass before Danny took a step back. The keys slipped from his fingers and clinked onto the road.
On the driver’s seat, wrapped in a black G-string, sat a human heart.
22
“H e’s clean,” the first tech said. “Not a trace of blood.”
Danny looked at his hands and refrained from making a smart remark. He was too exhausted. The CSU folks had recorded the temperature of the heart and bagged it, and the cops had verified his statement with the waitress at the diner. He’d told his story four times.
“It’s still warm,” the second tech said of the heart. “Bet that scared the shit out of you.”
Danny gave him a wan smile. He tapped out a text message to Andy and hoped he was lucid enough to read it.
“Might be arrested for murder. Will be at Center City Division soon. Please help.”
*
“Where are you, you little shit?” The monster banged the wall.
Danny edged back into the winter coats. He knocked against the open boxes of mothballs, and they spilled onto the floor. Conor pulled at Danny’s arm. Fear pinched his white face, but he clutched his blue lightsaber. “Hurry, Daddy.”
He shoved Conor into the darkness. “Run!”
Danny tried to push through the coats, but something clamped him by the shoulder and wouldn’t let go. In the flickering bluelight, he could see her. The delicacy of the butterflies and dragonflies, the twisting vines and flowers painted on her smooth, pale skull, a hideous contrast with her hollow eye sockets. Jane Doe One touched his face with her mutilated hands.
Danny tried to move, but she held him tight.
She started to shake him, and her voice grew harsh and deep.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Goddamn it!”
Danny jerked backward. His head banged against something
21
T he clatter of silverware startled him, and Danny jerked up his head. Five thirty. Where the hell was Zach?
He stared at his notes, which trailed into an indecipherable scrawl down the page. It didn’t matter. If Zach was right, Kevin was wrong. The Inferno wasn’t a sex club. It owned clubs.
Danny rubbed his eyes. He signaled the waitress and stared at the fat, red plastic elf that sat propped against his menu holder. It leered at him through beady eyes and held up a sign that read, “Happiness Is a Holiday Heart!”
Danny looked up when the waitress approached with a pot of coffee. Her Santa cap jingled with each step, and he wondered how any human could maintain a holiday facade at this ungodly hour. She gave him a cheerful smile.
“Y’want anything else, hon? A donut for the road?”
“No, but thanks. Hey, nice hat.”
She winked and slapped his bill on the blue Formica table. “Have a great day.”
*
Clammy, warm air greeted him when Danny walked out of the diner and up toward the side street where he parked. In three hours, the temperature had risen thirty degrees. Thick fingersof mist curled around the lights and floated in ribbons of gray across the rain-slick street. A few cars and trucks passed up and down Spring Garden. In the murky darkness, their headlights glowed like lidless eyes.
He glanced around and wondered if Beth ever watched him from wherever she was. Sometimes he thought he could feel her with him in the darkness. A whisper he couldn’t quite discern, her hand almost brushing his. Or maybe the memory of love was strongest, most bittersweet, when love itself was irretrievably lost.
He reached the Jeep and hit the keyless entry button. Nothing happened. The lights didn’t blink. The car sat, silent and dark. What the fuck was this?
He took a step closer and saw the doors were unlocked. Maybe it worked after all. Christ, he was more out of it than he thought.
Danny yanked at the handle and swung open the door. The overhead light snapped on, and he stared down at his seat. It took a second for his brain to process the lump of tissue congealing in a gooey mass before Danny took a step back. The keys slipped from his fingers and clinked onto the road.
On the driver’s seat, wrapped in a black G-string, sat a human heart.
22
“H e’s clean,” the first tech said. “Not a trace of blood.”
Danny looked at his hands and refrained from making a smart remark. He was too exhausted. The CSU folks had recorded the temperature of the heart and bagged it, and the cops had verified his statement with the waitress at the diner. He’d told his story four times.
“It’s still warm,” the second tech said of the heart. “Bet that scared the shit out of you.”
Danny gave him a wan smile. He tapped out a text message to Andy and hoped he was lucid enough to read it.
“Might be arrested for murder. Will be at Center City Division soon. Please help.”
*
“Where are you, you little shit?” The monster banged the wall.
Danny edged back into the winter coats. He knocked against the open boxes of mothballs, and they spilled onto the floor. Conor pulled at Danny’s arm. Fear pinched his white face, but he clutched his blue lightsaber. “Hurry, Daddy.”
He shoved Conor into the darkness. “Run!”
Danny tried to push through the coats, but something clamped him by the shoulder and wouldn’t let go. In the flickering bluelight, he could see her. The delicacy of the butterflies and dragonflies, the twisting vines and flowers painted on her smooth, pale skull, a hideous contrast with her hollow eye sockets. Jane Doe One touched his face with her mutilated hands.
Danny tried to move, but she held him tight.
She started to shake him, and her voice grew harsh and deep.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Goddamn it!”
Danny jerked backward. His head banged against something
Similar Books
