Drained (Edgars Family #6) - Suzanne Ferrell Page 0,14
a hospital room with someone who needed to rest. That the only one qualified to do that was her. And she marched me out to her big old Cadillac and said, let’s go.”
“She’s right,” Aaron said, putting Stanley in the back with Kirk F and climbing into the driver’s seat.
“Which shelter are we going to first?” Brianna asked, scrambling into the front passenger seat.
Aaron pulled out of the parking lot. “We’re not.”
“But you promised Paula we would look for her friend.”
“And we are. But first we’re going to get something to eat. I’m starving. Then we’re going to go look in the place your friend hasn’t got access to search.”
Brianna studied him. “And where’s that?”
“The morgue.”
6
After placing the bags of blood in the cold storage container, he stared across the room at the carcass.
A week.
He’d only gotten a week out of it. The previous one lasted past ninety days and he’d harvested an extra pint of blood before its heart finally gave out. It had been younger than this one, with a healthier heart and kidneys. That was the key to maximizing his crop. He’d have to try and find young ones to use.
Trouble was that the young ones were often riddled with drugs that had to be purged from their system in order to get acceptable product. And if they were working the streets for cash, the possibility of unusable blood tainted with AIDS or Hepatitis made the whole effort futile. Too bad he couldn’t screen them before he chose them. It was all part of the recycling process. You pick up the trash and then you sort through the mess to see what’s still useful.
He walked over to the sink and scrubbed down his hands and arms before putting on the first layer of latex-free gloves. Over those he stretched on a pair of heavy yellow rubber cleaning gloves. Picking up the spray bottle of bleach water and a scrub brush, he started cleansing away any remnants of his possible DNA or fingerprints or stray hairs that might have escaped the previous hazmat suit he wore while harvesting. The one he had on now had come fresh from the package.
It was his process.
One suit for harvesting. One suit for sanitizing. One for disposal.
The more meticulous he was, the less likelihood he’d be caught. For months he’d been hunting down and draining his prey of their blood, carefully depositing the early attempts to perfect his technique where no one would accidentally find them and storing the special few remains until his collection was complete. Now it was time to show the world what true recycling looked like.
Squeezed into the booth between Aaron and the wall of the restaurant, Brianna, who was comfortably full from her meal, watched both him and Kirk F devour their second plate of fried chicken and waffles. Every so often one of them would pass a piece of food to Stanley who occupied the other booth with Kirk F. Somehow, Aaron had convinced the manager that the crazy-haired dog needed to be in the restaurant while they ate. Since it was almost closing time, the young man gave in.
“He’s got better manners than some of our customers,” the little brunette waitress said with a grin at Kirk F as she filled their coffee mugs again. “Did you teach him that?”
Kirk F swallowed the food in his mouth, shaking his head, but a brightness lit his dark eyes as he realized the girl was flirting with him. “Nah. He’s not mine.”
Disappointed he hadn’t flirted back, the waitress turned to look at her and Aaron, assuming they were the dog’s owners.
Brianna smiled at her. “We’re just watching Stanley for a friend who’s in the hospital.”
“Oh, that’s awful cool of you,” she said, sliding the check onto the table. Focusing once more on Kirk F, she smiled and said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
The color in his cheeks had darkened with embarrassment, but he managed to nod at her. His eyes focused on her swaying hips as she walked away. Brianna almost laughed when he realized that she, Aaron and even Stanley were staring at him.
“What? I’m a healthy straight nineteen-year-old male.” He slipped the last chunk of chicken on his plate to Stanley. “So why are we heading to the morgue?”
“Because Stanley’s owner is missing,” Brianna said.
“Wait?” Kirk F shot her a brow-lowered confused look. “I thought the girl in the bed Nana is watching is this guy’s owner?”