The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [152]
Ten more minutes and she’d call it a night. And she’d give the landlord a free blowjob if she was short on the rent.
She pushed off the post and began to walk, slowly on aching feet, in the direction of the one room she’d been reduced to. She remembered she’d once had a high-toned apartment on the Upper West Side, a closet full of beautiful clothes, and a full appointment book.
Illegals, as her counselor had told her, sent you into a downward spiral that often ended in miserable death.
She’d lived through it, Jacie thought, but she was right dead center of misery.
Six more months, she promised herself. And she’d be back on top again.
She saw him walking toward her. Rich, eccentric, and out of place—you didn’t see many guys wandering around this area done up in evening clothes. With a cape and top hat, no less. He carried a black satchel.
Jacie put on her game face, and slicked a hand down her hip. “Hey, baby. Since you’re all dressed up, why don’t we have a party?”
He smiled at her, a quick, appreciative smile that showed her a flash of white, even teeth. “What did you have in mind?”
His voice suited his dress. Upper-class, she thought, with both pleasure and nostalgia. Style, culture. “Whatever you want. You’re the boss.”
“A private party then, somewhere . . . close.” He glanced around, then gestured toward a narrow alley. “I’m afraid I’m a bit pressed for time right now.”
The alley meant a quick bang, which was fine with her. They could get the business done, and if she played it right, she’d get herself the fee and a nice tip. More than enough for the rent and the boob job, she planned as she led the way.
“You’re not from around here, right?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Don’t sound like it, don’t look like it.” She shrugged, none of her business. “Tell me what you want, baby, and we’ll get the financials out of the way.”
“Oh, I want it all.”
She laughed, then reached out to run a hand over his crotch. “Mmm. You sure do. You can have it all.” Then I can get out of these shoes and into a nice, cold drink. She named a fee, elevating it as much as she thought possible. When he nodded, didn’t blink at the inflated price, she cursed herself for not adding more.
“I need to have it up front,” she told him. “Once you pay, we start having fun.”
“Right. Payment first.”
Still smiling, he spun her around to face the wall, jerked her head back by the hair. He slit her throat so she couldn’t scream, sliced it with one stroke with the knife he’d held under his cloak. Her mouth opened as she gaped at him, and she made a gurgling sound as she slid down the dirty wall.
“And now the fun,” he said, and went to work on her.
Chapter 1
You never saw it all. No matter how many times you walked through the blood and the gore, no matter how often you looked at the horror man inflicted on man, you never saw it all.
There was always something worse, something meaner, or crazier, more vicious, more cruel.
As Lieutenant Eve Dallas stood over what had once been a woman, she wondered when she would see worse than this.
Two of the uniform cops on scene were still retching at the mouth of the alley. The sound of their sickness echoed back to her. She stood where she was, hands and boots already sealed, and waited for her own shuddering stomach to settle.
Had she seen this much blood before? It was hard to remember. It was best not to.
She crouched, opened her field kit, and took out her ID pad to run the victim’s fingerprints. She couldn’t avoid the blood, so she stopped thinking about it. Lifting the limp hand, she pressed the thumb to her pad.
“Victim is female, Caucasian. The body was discovered at approximately oh three-thirty by officers responding to anonymous nine-one-one, and is herewith identified through fingerprint check as Wooton, Jacie, age forty-one, licensed companion, residing 375 Doyers.”
She took a shallow breath, then another. “Victim’s throat has been cut. Spatter pattern indicates wound was inflicted