“That can’t be …” He rubbed his face with his hands.
“I’m going to keep in touch with you,” I said. “From my point of view, you are involved in this case. I’m prepared to acknowledge that could simply be bad luck.”
I would like to think it was bad luck.
Nothing tingled to let me know something bad was happening. “Meanwhile, I need you to remain accessible.”
“Of course.” He moved forward. Frown lines furrowed his brow. “I swear I didn’t kill anyone. What if this has something to do with me? What if Sarah—”
“I’m going to ask the PD to up patrols. Give me her address.”
I spun my notebook toward him and passed him my pen.
“You don’t know a woman called Violet Cramer do you?” I said as he passed the notebook back. I glanced at the address then at him. His frown deepened. He swallowed hard. Beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead. His shoulders heaved.
I jumped up and opened the door as he threw up all over the table.
Deep breath. Another deep breath.
Bile rose. I swallowed hard and used the wall outside the door for support. Retching continued from the interview room, the smell of vomit thick in the air. A horrible shaky feeling swamped me, sending the blood rushing from my face. Trying to control my breathing and focus on something nice took all my energy.
Just when I thought I’d lost, a shadow fell over me. Lee’s voice gave me something to focus on. “Chicky, hit the restroom. Get some water. I got this,” he said, sticking his head around the open door. “Collins, I’ll get you some water and someone will come clean that up. Sit tight.”
I pushed myself off the wall and hurried to the nearest restroom. Splashing cold water on my face helped. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. No living person should ever be that pale.
Maybe I wasn’t alive?
Eight
Welcome To My World
“You okay?” Kurt wanted to know as he entered my office.
“Yep, never better,” I replied, looking at him from over my screen. “You need something?”
“We could try the truth, how would that work for you?” He sat on the edge of my desk.
“About?”
“Whether you are feeling all right … because, Conway, you’re not usually spectral in appearance.”
As I suspected, I’m dead.
“I’m good.” I tried to dislodge the image of the interview room Kurt had stirred up. “I just …” It wasn’t happening. I switched gears and filled my mind with a flower-filled meadow and watched a dragonfly dart about.
“Not like you to have a sensitive stomach,” Kurt replied. “I’ll get you some water.” He chuckled as he opened the small fridge in the corner of the room.
“It’s not funny,” I grumbled as my meadow vista gave way to the computer screen.
“Oh, but it is, Conway,” Kurt replied, sitting a bottle of water next to my right hand. “It really is.”
I swigged on the water and concentrated on the screen. Ignoring Kurt.
“I’ve got Fairfax Police Department set up to patrol Sarah Ng’s home during the night and tomorrow morning,” I said.
My finger tapped the mouse button opening our email client. I scrolled through the latest forty emails. Nothing from Winchester about the sketch, yet. I’d hoped it’d set off a sudden flurry of information and we could stop more deaths.
Damn me and my Pollyanna ways.
I did a quick background check on Sarah Ng. Never been in any kind of trouble, twenty-five and a paramedic with the four-forty. Facebook tossed up family photos. Parents both Asian. I surmised adopted, like her older brother who appeared to be African-American. Digging around some more confirmed adoption from a Russian orphanage at age three. Her brother was adopted from an orphanage in Louisiana as an infant.
But if the deaths had something to do with Collins and not just the type of woman the Unsub enjoyed killing, then the danger level for Sarah Ng had ramped up a few notches. Leaning back in my chair I thought about Sarah Ng and her
“I’m going to keep in touch with you,” I said. “From my point of view, you are involved in this case. I’m prepared to acknowledge that could simply be bad luck.”
I would like to think it was bad luck.
Nothing tingled to let me know something bad was happening. “Meanwhile, I need you to remain accessible.”
“Of course.” He moved forward. Frown lines furrowed his brow. “I swear I didn’t kill anyone. What if this has something to do with me? What if Sarah—”
“I’m going to ask the PD to up patrols. Give me her address.”
I spun my notebook toward him and passed him my pen.
“You don’t know a woman called Violet Cramer do you?” I said as he passed the notebook back. I glanced at the address then at him. His frown deepened. He swallowed hard. Beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead. His shoulders heaved.
I jumped up and opened the door as he threw up all over the table.
Deep breath. Another deep breath.
Bile rose. I swallowed hard and used the wall outside the door for support. Retching continued from the interview room, the smell of vomit thick in the air. A horrible shaky feeling swamped me, sending the blood rushing from my face. Trying to control my breathing and focus on something nice took all my energy.
Just when I thought I’d lost, a shadow fell over me. Lee’s voice gave me something to focus on. “Chicky, hit the restroom. Get some water. I got this,” he said, sticking his head around the open door. “Collins, I’ll get you some water and someone will come clean that up. Sit tight.”
I pushed myself off the wall and hurried to the nearest restroom. Splashing cold water on my face helped. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. No living person should ever be that pale.
Maybe I wasn’t alive?
Eight
Welcome To My World
“You okay?” Kurt wanted to know as he entered my office.
“Yep, never better,” I replied, looking at him from over my screen. “You need something?”
“We could try the truth, how would that work for you?” He sat on the edge of my desk.
“About?”
“Whether you are feeling all right … because, Conway, you’re not usually spectral in appearance.”
As I suspected, I’m dead.
“I’m good.” I tried to dislodge the image of the interview room Kurt had stirred up. “I just …” It wasn’t happening. I switched gears and filled my mind with a flower-filled meadow and watched a dragonfly dart about.
“Not like you to have a sensitive stomach,” Kurt replied. “I’ll get you some water.” He chuckled as he opened the small fridge in the corner of the room.
“It’s not funny,” I grumbled as my meadow vista gave way to the computer screen.
“Oh, but it is, Conway,” Kurt replied, sitting a bottle of water next to my right hand. “It really is.”
I swigged on the water and concentrated on the screen. Ignoring Kurt.
“I’ve got Fairfax Police Department set up to patrol Sarah Ng’s home during the night and tomorrow morning,” I said.
My finger tapped the mouse button opening our email client. I scrolled through the latest forty emails. Nothing from Winchester about the sketch, yet. I’d hoped it’d set off a sudden flurry of information and we could stop more deaths.
Damn me and my Pollyanna ways.
I did a quick background check on Sarah Ng. Never been in any kind of trouble, twenty-five and a paramedic with the four-forty. Facebook tossed up family photos. Parents both Asian. I surmised adopted, like her older brother who appeared to be African-American. Digging around some more confirmed adoption from a Russian orphanage at age three. Her brother was adopted from an orphanage in Louisiana as an infant.
But if the deaths had something to do with Collins and not just the type of woman the Unsub enjoyed killing, then the danger level for Sarah Ng had ramped up a few notches. Leaning back in my chair I thought about Sarah Ng and her
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