Needing by Sarah Masters Read Free Book Online Page B

me.”
    Oliver smiled, holding back a rejoinder that would proclaim Langham anything but a bloody optimist. Now wasn’t the time for their sniping. “Uh, he’s in that room.” He pointed to the door closest to Langham. A snapshot of what lay behind it flashed through his mind. “And it isn’t pretty. You might want to take a few deep breaths. He’s, um, he’s a fucking mess.” He swallowed down bile, shaking his head to remove the image, though why he bothered when he’d see it for real any second now he didn’t know. Habit, he guessed.
    “Right. Bloody wonderful.” Langham walked towards the door, taking a tissue from his pocket to turn the handle. “Get ready to be hit in the face by the reek, man.”
    Oliver covered his nose and mouth. Langham opened the door, and, expecting the stench to override anything else, Oliver was shocked to find the smell was the last thing he needed to think about. Blood soaked the walls, near-black now it had dried, arcs and splashes, rivulets and streams that spoke of a violent death. The bed was soaked with it, the quilt looking hardened with the stuff, and the carpet was ebony in small, circular patches where the victim had possibly staggered around the room, falling every so often as his life had ebbed away.
    But there was no corpse.
    “What the fuck?” Oliver said, his frown hurting. “I saw him. Saw the man all cut up and shit. He was on the bed. Face up. Eyes open. Arms hacked off.”
    “Well, he isn’t here now.” Langham stepped back—right onto Oliver’s toe.
    “Shit! You might want to watch where you’re stepping, man.”
    “It would help if you wasn’t right up my arse.”
    Oliver refused the bait. He was not going there with a ribald response. Not when they stood at the site of someone’s death. And then it struck him. The press of spirits wasn’t plural. It was one spirit. Reynolds. It had to be. “Uh, I’m going to let them in. Him in.”
    Langham spun to face him. “You got Reynolds on at you?”
    “I think so.”
    “Then open the hell up! What are you waiting for?”
    Oliver sighed and unlatched the locked door inside his mind. The spirit came tumbling in, as if he’d been leaning against it with all his might, and Oliver felt the spirit’s disorientation as it fought to regain its equilibrium. Heavy breathing filled Oliver’s mind, and the sense of a panicked man covered him in a heavy sweat.
    “Calm down,” he said. “Take a moment before you speak.”
    Oliver waited, staring at Langham. The detective’s face showed how impatient he was for information, but this was Oliver’s domain and he called the shots here. The breathing lightened, became less ragged, and a low humming began, like an abused kid trying to drown out the sound of his parents fighting.
    “It’s all right. Just take your time. We’re not going anywhere. And we’re here for you. To help catch who did this to you. I know it’s difficult. Know how painful this is for you. How much hard work it is. But just focus on what you need to tell me, and if you can give me images, too, then that would be great. If not, no worries at all, okay?”
    The humming stopped, leaving only the sound of breathing—from all three of them.
    “Eyes like madness. Couldn’t get over them, the way they flickered like that. Eyes like madness. Didn’t used to be that way. Weird. Can’t get to grips with it. Didn’t like it. They weren’t real. They were…freaky. He’s been tested on, like those kids. He wasn’t like he was before…he said…he…”
    “It’s okay. Slow down. Just take a deep breath and start at the beginning. Don’t tell me about your death, either, tell me about him. Concentrate only on him.”
    This guy was going to burn out his connection if he wasn’t careful, then Oliver and Langham would be left with fuck all new to go on. He quickly shielded his thoughts from Reynolds while he awaited his next outburst. It wouldn’t do for the guy to feel under