AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Bodies floated in a sea of blood, booze, and vomit. Some draped like rag dolls over the long bar or curled like grisly cats under broken tables. Jagged hunks of glass littered the floor, sparkled like deadly diamonds on what was left of tables and chairs—or jabbed, thick with gore, out of bodies.
The stench clogged the air and made her think of old photos she’d seen of battlefields where no side could claim clear victory.
Gouged eyes, torn faces, slit throats, heads bashed in so violently she saw pieces of skull and gray matter only added to the impression of war waged and lost. A few victims were naked, or nearly, the exposed flesh painted with blood like an ancient warrior’s.
She stood, waiting for the first wave of shock to pass. She’d forgotten she could be shocked. She turned, tall and lean, brown eyes flat, to the beat cop, and first on scene.
“What do you know?”
She heard him breathing between his teeth, gave him time.
“My partner and I were on our break, in the diner across the street. As I came out, I observed a female, late twenties, backing away from the door of the location. She was screaming. She was still screaming when I reached her.”
“What time was that?”
“We logged out for the break at seventeen-forty-five. I don’t think we were in there over five minutes, Lieutenant.”
“Okay. Continue.”
“The female was unable to speak coherently, but she pointed to the door. While my partner attempted to calm the female, I opened the door.”
He paused, cleared his throat. “I’ve got twenty-two years in, Lieutenant, and I’ve never seen anything like this. Bodies everywhere. Some were still alive. Crawling, crying, moaning. I called it in, called for medicals. There was no way to keep the scene undisturbed, sir. People were dying.”
“Understood.”
“We got eight or ten out—the medicals, Lieutenant. I’m sorry, I’m not clear on the number. They were in pretty bad shape. They worked on some of them here, transported all survivors to the Tribeca Health Center. At that time we secured the scene. The medicals were all over it, Lieutenant. We found more in the bathrooms, back in the kitchen.”
“Were you able to question any of the survivors?”
“We got some names. The ones able to speak all said basically the same thing. People were trying to kill them.”
“What people?”
“Sir? Everybody.”
“Okay. Let’s keep everybody out of here for now.” She walked with him to the door.
She spotted her partner. She’d parted ways with Peabody less than an hour before. Eve stayed back at Central to catch up on paperwork. She’d been on her way to the garage, thinking of home, when she’d gotten the call.
At least, for once, she remembered to text her husband, letting Roarke know she’d be later than expected.
Again.
She moved forward to block the door and intercept her partner.
She knew Peabody was sturdy, solid—despite the pink cowboy boots, rainbow-tinted sunshades, and short, flippy ponytail. But what was beyond the door had shaken Eve and a beat cop with over twenty on his hard, black shoes.
“Almost made it,” Peabody said. “I’d stopped by the market on the way home. Thought I’d surprise McNab with a home-cooked.” She shook a small market bag. “Good thing I hadn’t started. What did we catch?”
“It’s bad.”
Peabody’s easy expression slid away, leaving her face cold. “How bad?”
“Pray to God you never see worse. Multiple bodies. Hacked, sliced, bashed, you name it. Seal up.” Eve tossed her a can of Seal-It from the field kit she carried. “Put down that bag and grab your guts. If you need to puke, get outside. There’s already plenty of puke in there, and I don’t want yours mixed in. The crime scene’s fucked. No way around it. MTs and the responding officers had to get the survivors, treat some of them right on scene.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Record on.” Eve stepped back inside.
