Soul Stealer (44 page)

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Authors: C.D. Breadner

BOOK: Soul Stealer
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Sacrificial Savages
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Sacrificial Savages

 

Constable Trevor Vance was completely exhausted, wishing just once for a crime scene to help with that didn't look like a slasher film. Like some old guy that just fell and hit his head at the end of a long and fulfilling life.

Not two young kids, tied to beds in different rooms, naked and ripped open at the chest.

Two university students, home for the end of the holiday break. One kid lived here, Stanley Tracher, his parents were out of town and had to be reached by phone. The other one, Josh Holmes, was a long-time friend of Stanley. The kitchen held two empty bottles of wine and an ashtray containing a few joint roaches. They'd had company; two of the wine glasses had lipstick on them; shell-pink on one, blood red on the other. The boys' pants were both in the living room, dried semen could be seen on the couch. Then the fun had apparently moved to the bedrooms.

Josh was in the parents' room, Stanley in his own. They were both floating in their blood, chests gaping holes. The latex-foam mattresses had held the blood nicely, causing it to pool in the “memory foam” ruts they were laying in. He may not have been a doctor, but even Vance could see that pieces of whatever inside were missing.

He was guessing the heart, just like that kid the night before.

Vance took off his glasses, wiping the lenses on his tie as new voices joined the chatter in the kitchen down the hallway. It was Nailor leading the way down the hall, Sergeant Bauer on his heels. He knew the moment the smell hit them; they both wrinkled up their noses.

Apparently in his fear poor Josh lost control of his bowels.

"Well that's nice," Nailor muttered, snapping on gloves. His shoes were already covered in booties.

Vance shook his head. "I'm getting sick of young bodies ripped up like this. Why can't it be old men?"

Nailor looked at Claudia over his shoulder. "Vance wants an eyeful of old elephant sack, Sergeant."

She just made a face but Vance was always uncomfortable when Nailor tried to break the tension. He was always so fucking inappropriate.

"Twenty bucks says the hearts are missing," Claudia muttered.

"Not taking that bet." Nailor moved closer to the bed. "So they were tied down in anticipation of sex," he motioned to the kid's groin. "Hence the rubber."

Vance shrugged. "For all we know they were killed after. We'd have to check the contents."

"They could have been killed
during
, too," Claudia muttered.

Both men looked at her with a big WTF?

She shrugged defensively. "I'm seeing some pretty sick shit at these scenes. You don't think they'd get off on killing them?"

"If it was a guy, yeah. But I'm betting these were women. Look at the position, Bauer."

She crossed her arms. "Women can be sick fucks, too. Equality, Nailor. It's the twenty-first century, you know. We even get to vote now."

"Yeah yeah, burn your bra on your time." It was playful razzing but Vance was noticing that Claudia's jaw was clenched pretty tight.

"Lipstick prints are on some wine glasses in the kitchen. Maybe we'll luck out and get some DNA," Vance interjected, always a peacemaker.

"That would be amazing," Claudia muttered, checking the floor from the doorway. "This is a nice place."

"Yeah, Lauerton Heights. Not our usual spot." Nailor leaned over the body's face. "Good-looking kid."

"Basketball player," Vance added. "Attending Columbia on a scholarship."

"Shit." Nailor leaned back. "CSI's already gone over everything I see?"

There were tented neon cards all over the place, pointing out possible evidence. Vance nodded. "Just waiting on the coroner."

"Poor Gladstone," Claudia said. "He's getting pretty busy."

"It's job security," Nailor said on a sigh, turning away from the mess on the bed.

"The kid that lived here is in his own room," Vance offered. "You wanna see that one too?"

"Of course, lead the way."

Nailor and Claudia followed him down the hall past two doorways to the next open portal, with more camera flashes and people in special suits. Apparently CSI wasn't done in here yet. The scene was normal for a teenage boy's room; nudie calendar on the wall. Basketball trophies on the shelves outnumbering books. Then there was the dead boy, naked, tied to his bed, eyes staring at the ceiling with a horrified and shocked expression forever frozen in place.

That face was oddly one of the more disturbing sights for Vance. Blood and gore aside that expression was never going to leave him to rest at night. Stanley Tracher had been terrified at the moment of his death.

"Shit," Claudia whispered. "They're so damn young."

"Stanley was eighteen, Josh was nineteen," Vance confirmed. "I'd even prefer car accidents right now. A nice, messy but simple car wreck."

"I know," Claudia nodded along with him. "This is getting fucking ridiculous."

Vance studied her profile, knowing the pinched look on her face. "Are you okay?"

She looked to him, her mask of cool efficiency falling back into place. "Yeah. I'm good. Thanks."

"Let's get out of their way," Vance suggested loudly to Nailor. "The first guys on the scene are filing their reports. I don't think there's much in there either but ... it might be worth a read."

Claudia frowned. "Who called it in anyway?"

"
Neighbors noticed the front doors left open this morning. Found it odd, and the lights in the front room were still on, so they called in a break and enter. They knew the Trachers were gone."

"This place is giving me the creeps," Nailor said, turning away from the scene. "I could use breakfast, actually."

He pushed between them, and Vance caught the raised eyebrow that meant Claudia was also finding his behavior a bit more unusual than expected.

"What's with him?" Vance asked.

Claudia shrugged. "He's been man-whoring as far as I can tell. I hope he didn't drink so much last night he's still drunk."

"What? What makes you think he's drunk?"

Claudia shook her head. "He had two women in his apartment this morning. He was embarrassed with them around but now ..." she shrugged. "Now he's all big man on campus."

Vance shrugged. "Poor guy. What do you want me to say here?" He asked when she smiled. "Let's get breakfast and brainstorm this shit. Okay?"

She nodded. "Right behind you, Vance."

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