She turned and crouched down near the stuffed bags. A damp wind blew the flannel open over her midriff, but this Gaby, Gaby in the zone, didn’t feel the cold. Her hair whipped past her eyes, and still she didn’t move, didn’t speak.
Finally, her thigh muscles flexing, she stood. “Tell them you saw him dumping body remains. Bones, brains. Tell them we have the grisliest murder evidence they’re ever going to see.” Her gaze swung around to his. “Tell them we need this prioritized.
“All right.” He lifted his phone.
“Wait.” She worked her jaw, solving some inner turmoil. “Tell them to keep us out of it. He doesn’t know us, and we don’t want him to. As long as we’re unknown, we can continue to investigate. Make them understand.”
Their gazes held. Luther didn’t relish the possibility of being caught in such a farfetched lie. “You’re sure about this?”
“Fuckin’ A, I’m sure.” She all but vibrated with purpose, with devotion to her certainty. She pointed at the garbage. “There is a mishmash of inedible human pieces in those bags, Luther. Body parts already stripped of chunks of flesh because our fiend likes to store his food.” She put her head back, closed her eyes. “When we find him, we’ll find a full freezer, too.”
“Christ.” Luther rubbed his eyes. He wanted to take Gaby away from this, but he couldn’t. He was a cop down to the marrow of his bones. And she was a paladin.
With her guidance, they’d get the cretin that much sooner, and save lives in the process.
She looked around, eyes narrowed, hands on her lean hips. “If you can get some units to check the rest of the neighborhood’s trash, I’m betting you’ll find more bags, too.” She glanced at Luther. “Our guy is smart enough to scatter around the remains.”
Luther’s guts knotted in rebellion to the vividness she described. “You can smell that?”
In the slightest movement imaginable, she slowly shook her head. “Oh no, I smell something far more important than blood and guts and intestines.”
He straightened. “What?”
Her eyes brightened in the darkness, and she said with enthusiasm, “I smell ink.”
Head down, music blaring in her ears, Gaby strolled along the curb toward Mort’s place. It was late afternoon, and she and Luther had already had a long day.
“I don’t smell it,” Luther had said about the ink, as if they operated on the same plane. As if anything about her was perceptible to him.
When would he get it? When it was too damned late?
Not much separated her from the ghouls she killed. When Luther realized that, would he revile her?
She just didn’t know, and it made her tetchy.
At least he had believed her, had thrown himself into her instructions without reserve. In record time, Luther had gotten half the damn police force out on the scene. Neighbors awakened to the racket and lights. News crews showed up on the scene.
From inside a dark cruiser, wearing a hat and sunglasses, Luther directed the search. Gaby tucked into the backseat and thought about what needed to be done, and how she’d do it.
Toward dawn they discovered the third and last bag, thanks to stray dogs that sniffed out the feast. At the sight of a mutt gnawing on a human foot, a young female officer puked up her morning coffee and Danish.
Luther didn’t relieve her of duty. He kept them all searching until the last of the garbage had been screened.
They now knew that their cannibal refused feet and hands, intestines, brains, and the spinal cord.
Internal organs were missing, so he either ate those or hadn’t yet had an opportunity to dispose of them.
After they concluded the search, Luther had trailed Gaby to several tattoo shops. He didn’t send other officers to do the same, because he had no legitimate reason to present for the search. He couldn’t very well announce that Gaby smelled the ink, especially when the overwhelming scents of dead flesh mixed with refuse presented a cacophonous assault on the senses, enough to drown out every other odor—at least for the average person.
But she wasn’t fucking average.
No, she wasn’t even in the realm of normal, and because of that, Luther hadn’t discounted her theory of a tattoo artist being involved. But neither did he want Gaby harassing tattoo parlors on her own.
The side investigation, Luther claimed, required finesse and subtlety.
They both knew she possessed neither virtue, and so he went with her. She didn’t mind his company, but she thought he could have done something more important, especially since the legwork hadn’t panned out. Yet.
Gaby was so drawn into her own thoughts that she didn’t see the duo of ragtag youths until they stepped out in front of her, blocking her path.
Slowly she looked up and took their measure. Oh yeah. This confrontation showed promise.
Few people in the quiet, disadvantaged area of tenement housing and crime cared when others got victimized. It was an everyday way of life. At the sign of impending trouble, a vagrant scurried away. Two hookers made a point of turning their backs. Across the street, sitting on a stoop, an obese woman in her nightgown smoked a cigarette and rocked a baby.
No cops. No one to care.
There were only two guys, probably between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. Given their sneers and aggressive postures, they wanted trouble.
A gift from heaven.
Because Gaby had trouble to spare.
Chapter 9
A stiff wind carried the odor of fetid refuse. It wafted around Gaby, but it didn’t come from the men. No, an overturned trash can was to blame. The bodies attempting to intimidate her were outwardly clean.
Their insides, their rotten morals and foul intentions, had no discernible odor. But Gaby knew. She saw beyond their young, handsome faces and healthy physiques to the burgeoning savages within.
Gaby anticipated the conflict to come. She could use a brawl right now. Physical combat had proven to be the preeminent release for her churning discontent.
That is, she’d found battle to be the greatest release before Luther showed her the draining effects of sex.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the lethargy and peace of mind imbued from carnal intimacy with Luther.
The realization of yet another drastic change Luther had perpetrated caused Gaby’s shitty mood to ramp up a paramount degree.
Slowly, savoring the possibilities, she removed the earbuds and turned off her music. She tucked them into her pocket alongside the new cell phone Luther had presented to her, the phone he insisted she carry on her person at all times.
It was a fucking leash and they both knew it, but what the hell? She could give a little on that score. If the cell phone ensured he could reach her whenever he wanted, the opposite was also true. She could contact Luther at any time.
And she would, just to emphasize that their relationship worked both ways. If he worried for her, well hell, she worried about him a thousand times more.
Luther was a prodigious specimen among ordinary people, but his skills didn’t come close to hers, and that made him far more susceptible to injury.
Utilizing her keen insight, Gaby surveyed the two males who’d separated to block her way. Their low-hanging jeans displayed a laughable amount of underwear, and their shirts were meant to show off tight upper bodies.
Cruelty and belligerence were now comfortable window dressings for them, but to Gaby, their insecurities
