Obsidian Butterfly - Laurell K. Hamilton [135]
Drawing a gun and shooting him was probably overkill, but I certainly didn’t have to stand there and help his imagination. I turned to Bradley. “Someone said there were other bodies. Let’s go see.” Five minutes ago, you’d have had to drag me into the next chamber of horrors. Now I grabbed Bradley’s arm and half pulled him, half let him lead me deeper into the house. I could feel Olaf’s gaze against my back like a hand, hot and close. I didn’t look back. Nothing ahead of me could be worse than watching Olaf paw through the woman’s remains, knowing that he was thinking of me while he did it.
33
BRADLEY LED ME to a door that had been half-torn out of its hinges. Something big had pushed through here. Bradley had to use both hands to get the door to one side. It seemed to have settled into the carpet, wedging itself. He jerked back, and I jumped, pulse in my throat.
“Damn splinters.” He held up the palm of his gloved hand and there was a small crimson spot on the plastic. He jerked the glove off. The splinter seemed to have come off with the glove, but it was bleeding freely.
“Some splinter,” I said.
“Dammit.” Bradley looked at me.
“You better let somebody look at it.”
He nodded, but didn’t turn to go. “Don’t be insulted, but not everyone is happy with me forcing you back on this case. I can’t leave you alone in here with evidence. If there were ever questions raised, it would be hard to explain.”
“I’ve never pocketed evidence from a crime scene in my life.”
“I’m sorry, Anita, but I can’t take the chance. Will you follow me out to the ambulance?”
He was having to cup one hand under the other to catch the blood so it didn’t reach the carpet. I frowned, but nodded. “Fine.”
He started to say something, then turned and walked back to the living room. We were about a fourth of the way through the room when Edward asked, “Otto wants to open the tablecloth and see what’s inside.”
“I’ll send the photographer and Agent Franklin in to oversee it.” Bradley kept going for the door having to hurry a little to keep his own blood from contaminating the scene.
Neither Edward nor Olaf nor the uniform that had magically appeared to watch them fondle the evidence, asked how he’d hurt his hand. Maybe no one cared.
I followed Bradley across the gravel turn-around to the ambulance. There were still too many people milling around outside. Shouldn’t they be out searching for the creature? It wasn’t my job to tell them their job, but this was the freshest crime scene yet, and there just didn’t seem to be enough frantic activity to suit me.
Bradley sat down at the end of the ambulance and let the techs treat his wound. Because it was a wound. Splinter, my ass. He’d stabbed himself. I tried to be a good girl and just stand there, but I think my impatience showed, because Bradley started talking.
“We did send people out to search when we arrived, and we arrived damn quick.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
He smiled, then grimaced as the EMT did something to his hand that hurt. “Walk far enough away from the house to give a 360 look. Then come back and tell me what you see.”
I looked at him. He motioned me off with his good hand. I shrugged and started walking. The heat was like a weight across my shoulders, but without humidity it just wasn’t as bad. The gravel crunched under my feet, louder than it should have been. I walked in the opposite direction from the horse corral. The horses were still running in their endless chase like a maniac merry-go-round. I threaded my way through the cars, marked and unmarked. The fire truck had driven away. I wasn’t sure why it had been here in the first place. Though sometimes when you call 911, you get more emergency vehicles than you need, especially if the caller panics and isn’t specific enough.
I stopped beside the silent revolving lights of a car. Who had called the police? Did we actually have a witness? If we did, why hadn’t anyone mentioned it? If we didn’t, then who had called for help?
I walked until the hot dry wind rustling through