Her Dying Breath by Rita Herron Read Free Book Online Page B

town. But he did nothing for Brenda.
    “Pickup belongs to the manager,” he said. “The RV, to a family who left it here while they drove the Jeep they were towing to Nashville. Had plans to see the Grand Ole Opry. They’re supposed to be back tomorrow.”
    “A dead end,” Brenda murmured.
    Two more cars turned from the road into the motel parking lot, the people jumping out. “Is this where that murder was?” a middle-aged man asked.
    The teens in the next car whipped out their cell phones. “Cool, man. Can’t wait to post this on YouTube.”
    Deputy Waterstone jogged over to circumvent the rubberneckers while Brenda watched the door, waiting for Nick or Jake to appear. Hopefully soon the ME would exit with the body, and they could get a shot of the medics wheeling the corpse to the ambulance to transport him to the morgue.
    Questions pummeled her. Nick would need to run a trace on her phone. But why had the killer chosen her? Was the perp from Slaughter Creek? Would she hear from the killer again? And why had the killer chosen this victim—as some kind of statement to Commander Arthur Blackwood?

    “What can you tell us about the body?” Nick asked the ME.
    Dr. Bullock pointed to the red slashes and bruises on the man’s neck. “It appears he died of asphyxiation, but I’ll verify that when I get him on the table.”
    Nick scanned the room again, noting the thick ropes used to bind the victim to the bed. “He weighs, what, about two hundred pounds?”
    The ME nodded. “That’d be my guess.”
    “So he probably agreed to be tied up. That is, unless the killer held a gun to his head.”
    “That’s possible,” the ME said, “although he wasn’t shot.”
    “Man probably thought he was in for a night of fun,” Jake muttered. “But the fun got out of hand, just like that damn choking game kids have been playing.”
    “I haven’t seen one of those yet, and don’t want to,” the ME commented as he scraped beneath the man’s fingernails.
    The crime unit had already photographed close-ups of the man’s body, including the cock ring around his penis.
    “Any scratch marks or body fluids evident?” Nick asked.
    “Not so far.” He shone an instrument onto the man’s genital area, then on the sheet. “Looks like she probably made him use a condom. I don’t see any evidence of vaginal or seminal fluids.” He began to untie the man’s wrists, and Nick untied the legs, allowing the CSI team to photograph close-ups of the bruises made by the ropes.
    Nick pointed to the torn, rope-burned skin. “Looks like he struggled.”
    The ME peeled back the wire from the victim’s neck. “Probably realized that his partner wasn’t playing.” He indicated the depth of the bruises and cuts in the man’s throat. “In fact, if I’m guessing right, the killer was sadistic. It looks like the victim was subjected to repeated strangulation.”
    Nick swallowed hard, contemplating the text on Brenda’s phone.
A present for the Commander.
    Was the text connected to the limerick his father had received?

    Seven felt the sweet satisfaction of watching Brenda Banks airing the story about the motel murder while she relaxed in a hot tub of lavender-scented water. She had to wash the stench of the vile man from her skin.
    Not the scent of the man she’d fucked.
    Arthur Blackwood’s black scent.
    His evil had permeated her years ago, and the only way she could purge the darkness he’d birthed inside her was to show the world what he’d turned her into.
    And to exact revenge on other men like him.
    She closed her eyes, the memories of her earlier years starting to take on new meaning. Memories of friends who had not been friends. Of babysitters and caretakers who, she realized now, had been guards.
    Red Rover, Red Rover
    Send Seven right over.
    She had obeyed the Commander because he was the only father figure she’d known. He was her family.
    Now she had no one.
    Only the mindless games of survival he’d taught her.