Page 79 of Insidious Heart
Despite my urge to do that, I slow my pace to a jog because it’s four in the morning and some big fuck dressed in a hazmat suit with various blood stains on it is enough of a red flag, but throw in my frantic speed, the goggles on my head, and mask around my neck, and I’ll definitely be turning heads if anyone is around.
I have to keep my wits about me.
While Stevie is mine, and it’s apparently my new mission to protect her, she’s already made me sloppy in all aspects of my life. Not enough for me to stop seeing her, stop fucking her, or obsessing over her, but enough to force myself to remember I can’t let my sweet little dove be the reason I fuck up and get caught. It’s bad enough I didn’t change before I took off out of Birch Creek, only shedding one layer of gloves and booties to avoid transference, so I can’t do anything else to draw attention to myself.
Slowing down to what hopefully looks like a nonchalant stroll, I wander down the alley between the laundromat and empty bar before turning the corner and sprinting toward Pope.
“Half hour, my ass,” he mumbles as I come to a screeching halt next to him. “Forty-one minutes,Bones.”
I flash him a grin before my gaze lands on the completely shredded body before us. “I told you I was busy.” My eyes immediately start scanning the scene but before I can ask any questions, Pope huffs next to me.
“What the fuck were you doing dressed like that?”
Oh right.
None of the Kings, no one that lived to tell save for Little John, has seen me like this, and Pope along with his brothers have seen me in my birthday suit more than anything else. So I guess it’s to be expected that he’s curious.
“Working.” I ignore the way I can feel him staring holes in my head and take a step forward.
“Working?” Pope asks again, his tone incredulous if not a tad curious. “You look like a fucking spaceman.”
I pause and turn to face him. “Aspaceman?”
He looks me up and down, lingering a bit at my mask before meeting my eyes with a shrug.
“Why, Pope Crenshaw, is that your personality coming through?Finally?” The walking blasphemy gives me a scowl as I cackle my ass off, grateful for the way our familiar banter grounds me some.
Refocusing my much calmer energy, I turn back to the scene and walk forward until I’m right on the edge of the blood spray.
My nose scrunches in disgust as I start to circle the woman, taking in the completely mutilated torso, the nearly decapitated head, and the limb severed by default. To anyone else it might look like the killer purposely cut off the right leg but I can tell it wasn’t intentional, simply a result of an ungodly number of stab wounds to the torso, pelvis, and genitals.
So messy.
So angry.
The Ripper issoincredibly angry,hateful,and trying to send a message. A message to someone he feels rejected by, that he wants in a more than platonic way, that he possibly could have made advances toward which resulted in actual rejection, but I can’t be certain of that.
What I do know is this asshole is acting out the rage and aggression he feels toward this person, and these kills are most definitely sexually motivated.
Which confirms what I thought before.
He’s most likely finding these women in a neutral setting, somewhere that his average look and unassuming vibe gets them to let down their guard in some way, and since he’s going for women who resemble the one he can’t have, he probably hits on them or outright propositions them, and when they say no he loses his shit.
And while all of his kills have been chaotic and messy as hell, they are progressively getting worse.
“What a mess.” I crouch on my haunches next to the largest pool of blood. With the level of mutilation it’ll be hard for the medical examiner to know if there was sexual assault, but I’d put money on it. Especially when something swimming in the puddle catches my eye. “Such a careless mess.”
“What? This too much, even for someone like you?”
I glance up with a smirk as Pope comes to stand across from me. “No, I’m just incredibly disappointed in how sloppy this is. I mean, look”—I sweep my hand through the air at the entire scene—“nothing is contained, there is blood and bits everywhere, and this…” I point to what is clearly a hair that doesn’t belong to the victim, based on length since color is hard to determine, that is sitting next to what might be spit. “Shows a level of carelessness that makes me cringe.” Then I frown. “What do you mean,someone like me?”
Probably that I’m so fucked up there isn’t a category forsomeone like me.
The stoic holy man rolls his eyes before looking at what I’m pointing to. “You left one crime scene for another, showed up covered in someone else’s blood as well as your own.” Pope gives me a pointed look, one that saysI saw the bullet hole, dumbass.“All I’m saying is you’re a different breed with a stomach of steel, Tor, and I’d be surprised if you were fazed by all this.”
“Which I’m not.” Not in any way other than worrying about Stevie, but he doesn’t need to know that. Especially since I don’t want to acknowledge it.
“Exactly.” He reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out… aTootsie Pop, unwraps it, then shoves it into his mouth. “For the record, it doesn’t faze me either. I might not do what you do in my spare time but there’s a reason Prez has me on this specific kind of job, and it’s not a bad thing. Just different.”
