Drained (Edgars Family #6) - Suzanne Ferrell Page 0,27

Brianna. “Do you think you could use your phone to video the crowd while I talk to reporters, maybe a little distance away, maybe while Stanley takes a whiz or something?”

“I want do that because…” She let her words fade into the unspoken question.

“Sometimes, a killer returns to a crime scene, especially if it’s getting news coverage,” Jaylon said, nodding Aaron’s direction. “Good idea. You want me to get one, too?”

“No, if Brianna can do it inconspicuously, we might catch someone unawares.” They all headed to the stair exit at the far end of the hall. “If nothing else, we might get some images of other homeless people in the area to talk to tomorrow. Did you have the patrols check out the rest of the building?”

Jaylon nodded as they headed down the steps. “Yeah, no other vampire victims posed inside.”

Aaron shot out a hand and grabbed his colleague by the shirt, stopping him mid-step and fixing him with his I’m-pissed-so-don’t-argue-with-me glare. “Do. Not. Use. That. Word. Again.”

Jaylon threw his arms up in surrender. “Whoa. Okay. No Vlad the Impaler jokes.”

“I’m serious, Jay. The last thing we want to do is give this guy a nickname to gain cult followers and imitators. Not to mention sending a panic into the homeless community. So, this is just a routine dead body for now, got it?”

“Got it,” Jaylon answered, finally all serious cop again.

Aaron liked the guy. One of the best partners he’d ever had. Quick to assess situations, not one to rabbit hole a case until all the facts were in. Willing to think outside the box, but not too far that they couldn’t stay focused. Pushed the rules without breaking them. But he liked to make jokes that were sometimes out of place and of course there was the constant hitting on any female with a pulse within fifty feet of him. Someday the kid would run into the wrong female who would either put him in his place permanently or sue his ass. Until Jaylon got his crap together and grew up, it was his place to keep the guy in check.

“Okay, let’s go face this hoard of leeches,” Aaron said, walking through the loading dock area, now lit with police lamps to the exit, he and Jaylon flanking Brianna and Stanley. From this moment forward, officially she was a bystander who found the pup and he led her here. End of story. The last thing he wanted was putting her in the crosshairs of the killer.

Brianna stood a few yards to the left and slightly behind where Aaron and his partner were talking to the reporters. Stanley had taken advantage of the tree just outside the loading dock entrance to relieve himself, so she’d taken the time to turn on her camera’s video recording device, and then pretend she was talking on it, all the while aiming it at the crowd.

She was glad she’d been given the assignment of minding Stanley and was out of the center of attention. It was an eclectic group surrounding the two detectives. Trucks from three local news stations lined the sidewalk halfway down the block and beyond the perimeter the police had marked off. Reporters and cameramen ringed the front row where Aaron stood to answer questions. Passersby milled around behind the media. Most looked to be part of the homeless community. The lineup of vehicles on both sides of the street suggested some of the gawkers were drivers who’d seen the police and stopped to find out what was going on.

Could Aaron and Jaylon be right? Could one of these people be the one who tortured—and given the description of how Ramos thought Art had died, she couldn’t think of it as anything less than torture—and killed Art be standing here quietly gloating in what they’d done?

A shiver ran over her.

Get yourself together, Bri. Aaron gave you a job to do. Don’t wimp out on him now. You want to help Art? Get good videos of the crowd.

Why did her conscience always sound like Abby? Because Abby had always been the one person who didn’t buy her sweet little dumb blonde routine. She saw through the bullshit and called her on it.

Taking her Abby-conscience’s advice, she shoved the idea that she might be a few yards from a sadistic killer into a dark box in her brain and buried it. “Come on Stanley,” she said, pulling lightly on his leash until he lost interest in whatever he was sniffing on the