Overpass penthouse in Brooklyn. “That’s as specific as I can get. I wish I could tell you more. But I can’t. All I know is that it’s urgent. Search the area. And hurry.”
“I’m on it.” She could tell that Detective Werner was on his feet, ready to grab his partner and take off. He and his precinct had worked with Claire often enough to know she was the real deal.
“Please keep me posted.”
“I will.”
Claire disconnected the call, feeling ill as well as oddly attached to the vision. Like it was personal. But she’d never met the victim. She was sure of that. So why couldn’t she shake this sense of personal dread? She’d consulted for the NYPD and local police departments for years before coming on board at Forensic Instincts. She knew the drill. And this was out of the realm of normal. There was something more going on here.
And that something involved her Forensic Instincts family.
She knew what she had to do next.
* * *
Casey had just arrived back at the office. She was on her way down to Ryan’s lair to compare notes when her iPhone rang.
The number was blocked.
“Casey Woods,” she answered.
“You’re putting your energy in the wrong place, Red.” The weird tinny words told Casey that, whoever the caller was, he was using a voice scrambler. “That girl’s case is as cold as her body. But the one who just died? Her body is still warm.”
“Who is this?”
“The last person you’re going to see before you close your eyes forever.” A chilling laugh. “The blood chain is under way. It will end with you. Spin your wheels and try to stop it.”
The line went dead.
“Casey?” Marc had been parking the van. He walked inside and was standing behind Casey in time to see her ashen expression. “What’s the matter? You’re white as a sheet.”
Before Casey could answer, her phone rang again. She startled, then stared at the caller ID. It was Claire.
“Claire, I can’t talk now,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“You have to.” Claire was literally vibrating. “I just called the Eighty-fourth Precinct. Something’s happening. Someone’s being tortured and killed. It’s happening in Brooklyn. And it’s drawing me to you.” Claire’s voice broke. “Oh, my God—she’s dead. He killed her. He raped her and he killed her. He’s still with the body. He’s doing something to it. But she’s dead. And you have to know that. I don’t know why. But you do.”
Casey’s own stomach was turning over. “Claire. Listen to me. I need you to focus. Tell me everything. Everything. ”
“I did.” It was clear that Claire sensed the rising hysteria in Casey’s voice. “Why?”
“Because I think I just got a phone call from the killer.”
Chapter Seven
The body was located just after 1:00 a.m. at a warehouse on Jay Street.
Identification was no problem, since Kendra’s purse hadn’t been touched, so neither had her driver’s license or student ID.
The medical examiner did his job and filed his report. The parents were notified. They lived locally, so they rushed over to identify the body. It was a heartbreaking scene.
Tom hated this part of his job.
Once he’d dotted his i’ s and crossed his t’ s, he dropped wearily back in his chair and rubbed his temples. His tired gaze fell on the phone and he stared at it for a long time. The case was now a wide-open homicide. No aspect of it should be discussed. But Claire had been instrumental in their discovering it. She had a right to know.
Tom picked up the phone and punched in her cell number.
Claire answered on the first ring. She was with the entire FI team, gathered around the second-floor conference table, downing cup after cup of coffee.
“This is an unofficial call, Claire,” Tom stated flatly. “I shouldn’t even be making it. But given our prior professional relationship and the fact that you initiated this entire search, I’ll tell you what I can.”
“Thanks, Tom.” Claire
“I’m on it.” She could tell that Detective Werner was on his feet, ready to grab his partner and take off. He and his precinct had worked with Claire often enough to know she was the real deal.
“Please keep me posted.”
“I will.”
Claire disconnected the call, feeling ill as well as oddly attached to the vision. Like it was personal. But she’d never met the victim. She was sure of that. So why couldn’t she shake this sense of personal dread? She’d consulted for the NYPD and local police departments for years before coming on board at Forensic Instincts. She knew the drill. And this was out of the realm of normal. There was something more going on here.
And that something involved her Forensic Instincts family.
She knew what she had to do next.
* * *
Casey had just arrived back at the office. She was on her way down to Ryan’s lair to compare notes when her iPhone rang.
The number was blocked.
“Casey Woods,” she answered.
“You’re putting your energy in the wrong place, Red.” The weird tinny words told Casey that, whoever the caller was, he was using a voice scrambler. “That girl’s case is as cold as her body. But the one who just died? Her body is still warm.”
“Who is this?”
“The last person you’re going to see before you close your eyes forever.” A chilling laugh. “The blood chain is under way. It will end with you. Spin your wheels and try to stop it.”
The line went dead.
“Casey?” Marc had been parking the van. He walked inside and was standing behind Casey in time to see her ashen expression. “What’s the matter? You’re white as a sheet.”
Before Casey could answer, her phone rang again. She startled, then stared at the caller ID. It was Claire.
“Claire, I can’t talk now,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“You have to.” Claire was literally vibrating. “I just called the Eighty-fourth Precinct. Something’s happening. Someone’s being tortured and killed. It’s happening in Brooklyn. And it’s drawing me to you.” Claire’s voice broke. “Oh, my God—she’s dead. He killed her. He raped her and he killed her. He’s still with the body. He’s doing something to it. But she’s dead. And you have to know that. I don’t know why. But you do.”
Casey’s own stomach was turning over. “Claire. Listen to me. I need you to focus. Tell me everything. Everything. ”
“I did.” It was clear that Claire sensed the rising hysteria in Casey’s voice. “Why?”
“Because I think I just got a phone call from the killer.”
Chapter Seven
The body was located just after 1:00 a.m. at a warehouse on Jay Street.
Identification was no problem, since Kendra’s purse hadn’t been touched, so neither had her driver’s license or student ID.
The medical examiner did his job and filed his report. The parents were notified. They lived locally, so they rushed over to identify the body. It was a heartbreaking scene.
Tom hated this part of his job.
Once he’d dotted his i’ s and crossed his t’ s, he dropped wearily back in his chair and rubbed his temples. His tired gaze fell on the phone and he stared at it for a long time. The case was now a wide-open homicide. No aspect of it should be discussed. But Claire had been instrumental in their discovering it. She had a right to know.
Tom picked up the phone and punched in her cell number.
Claire answered on the first ring. She was with the entire FI team, gathered around the second-floor conference table, downing cup after cup of coffee.
“This is an unofficial call, Claire,” Tom stated flatly. “I shouldn’t even be making it. But given our prior professional relationship and the fact that you initiated this entire search, I’ll tell you what I can.”
“Thanks, Tom.” Claire
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