A Cruel Season for Dying by Harker Moore Read Free Book Online

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    Zoe Kahn hailed from an unfortunate section of Queens. A fact that she took no pains to hide. Humble beginnings looked great
     when you made it big. And Zoe intended to make it. She owed it to God for the heavy dose of good looks and brains with which
     he’d seen fit to endow her. And she was not afraid of hard work. Zoe feared nothing.
    A handy trait given her current position as police beat reporter for the
Post.
And her intention to climb. Cable news contributor was the next logical step, and she’d been looking for a story that could
     get her an invite to the talking-head circuit. She figured she might have found it.
    Two fairly prominent homosexuals murdered in the city in the space of three days, and some sort of psycho ritual performed
     on the bodies. Homosexual thrill killings à la Cunanan, or a serial’s opening gambit. Either way it was juicy, though the
     serial angle had the better potential long term. Her headline this morning had screamed: SERIAL KILLER STALKING CITY ’ S GAYS ? The question mark thrown in to cover her ass.
    Her cell phone rang, sounding eerily in the basement garage.
    “Here,” she spoke into the unit.
    “He’s on his way down,” the voice said.
    “Thanks.” She flipped the phone closed and nestled back into the shadow of a concrete pillar, going over the moves in her
     head, the questions she wanted to ask. Not that she really expected Sakura to give her any real answers at this stage. She’d
     been through this dance with him before. A former deputy commissioner’s daughter murdered with plenty of mayhem and sex in
     suitably high places—a SpecialHomicide Unit case that had made her reputation on the police beat. So in a way, she supposed, she owed Sakura. He had played
     the case close but straight. He never lied, or even stretched the truth over-much. He just didn’t tell you a goddamn thing
     until he was good and ready.
    She knew his reputation with his men. Respected, if not beloved, for a harsh but scrupulous fairness, and a competence that
     made everyone around him look good. Her own appraisal was a cold man, but not without his passions. His eyes betrayed him
     with an intensity that could burn like dry ice. She’d felt their sting more than once. It was the same look he no doubt used
     to intimidate police witnesses into silence with the press, with that spiel of his about obstruction of justice.
    The elevator opened, disgorging passengers. She watched Sakura separate from the pack. His figure distinct. Ridiculously tall
     for an Asian.
    His height always surprised her, as if mentally she’d been trying to cut him down. Truth was, she found him attractive. Something
     in that deliciously cruel mouth and the way he never seemed to notice that she was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. That
     was the hook, the thing that got under her skin. She and Sakura were colleagues of a sort, both with their little tricks of
     intimidation. Except that hers never seemed to work on him. She had a fantasy of interviewing him entirely in the nude. See
     if he could ignore her obvious attributes then.
    “Lieutenant Sakura.” She stepped out in front of him. “The Carrera-Milne murders. Is it your belief we’re dealing with a serial?”
    To his credit, his reaction to her presence here was cool. He walked past her, shaking his head, as if her question itself
     were foolish. “Your article this morning was premature, Ms. Kahn. We have two deaths. It’s simply your assumption they’re
     related.”
    “My article stated that the condition of both bodies suggested a ritualized murder of some kind.” She managed to match her
     stride to his, despite the confines of her skirt. “Are you denying a ritual aspect to these deaths?”
    He had reached his car, and now he stopped and faced her. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information.”
    She smiled. “But you’re not denying it’s accurate?”
    His key was in his hand. He fitted it in the