Son of Cerberus (The Unusual Operations Division Book 2) by Jacob Hammes Read Free Book Online

behind. Her dark hair held the most blood, for some reason. As the water rained down over it, it created rivers of red that pooled in the shallow hospital shower stall before a whirlpool took it down the drain. Swiftly, it cascaded over her olive skin, down past the mosquito bites she called breasts, past her belly that was just skin and muscle, past her shaved nethers, and down her stick legs. Even with all the filth that coated her entire body, she couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds. At just over five feet tall, she was considered both small and skinny.
    Her features were no less defined because of her obvious skinniness. Though ribs poked through her sides and sinewy muscles striated her legs and arms, she held a gaunt and powerful look. Her chin ended at a point that made her otherwise pretty face somewhat distracting. Her nose was petite, though it stuck out from prominent cheek bones like a jetty shooting out through still waters. She let the water fill her mouth and spit it out through the tiny gap in the front of her otherwise perfect teeth.
    There were also these odd wounds. They seemed as if garden hoses had been shoved into each of her arms just above the crease of her elbows. The scabs were painful to the touch and stung as the water flowed over them. She pondered them thoroughly. Something had happened to her and she had no recollection of what it might be. She hoped they would go away soon.
    She could be considered pretty, or at least she thought so. Though she looked like she was fifteen years old and just over the crest of pubescence, she had a woman’s body. Her legs might be skinny, but they were powerful enough to take her running whenever she liked. She retained nothing of her previous life—before the boat ride—but she remembered being able to run. It was something she felt she had enjoyed, though she couldn’t recall ever participating in the activity.
    The water cut off too suddenly and an elderly woman in hospital scrubs flung the shower curtain open roughly. Her permed white hair looked ridiculous on top of that aging face with those coke-bottle glasses. The old woman hated the young woman. There was no denying it. Ever since she showed up to the hospital, escorted by police, she had been assumed guilty of murder.
    All she could remember was waking up in the hospital. She didn’t remember anything about the boat, nor anything about how she had arrived in America. She didn’t know her own name, her family, her home, where she was from. Though she had been a passenger aboard that horrifying vessel, she couldn’t say with any degree of certainty whether or not she was a murderer.
    Now, the only thing that mattered was what would become of her and her life. If she couldn’t figure out what had happened aboard the boat, she would be spending the remainder of her life behind bars. One country or another would want answers. Undoubtedly she had been accused of the murders, as she was the only witness alive. Though the truth was there, she remembered nothing but shadows. The one thing she felt entirely sure of was that she couldn’t be responsible for something so horrifying.
    “Out you come,” the old lady said, coaxing the younger woman out with her hands. “You’ve had enough time to shower yourself off. It’s time to put some clothes on so that you can start meeting with the police. You’re going to have a lot to explain, from what I’ve heard.”
    The young woman obliged her elder and stepped her petite feet out onto the blindingly white tile floor of the hospital bathroom. It was cold to the touch, something she could not remember feeling for a very long time. A gentle shaking hand took her naked arm and steered her over to a bench on which she could sit and clothe herself.
    Like a handmaiden, the older woman hovered over the younger one with a towel in one hand and a brush in the other. She took the liberty of drying her off completely, from head to toe, while