Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
JADEON
I was panicked.
If dawn hit Alex’s prison window . . . it would kill him instantly. A tight knot of panic coiled in my gut; every nerve screaming.
It was hard to think straight, but I had to move fast. I lingered in the dark alley in the center of the old Salisbury town, not caring who she would be.
I just needed a body. The tipsy girl walked alone, her provocative appearance confirming her prostitution, and her drugged-out face gave away her death wish.
I followed her.
Covering her mouth, I dragged her into the dark passageway, pulling her along, giving her no time to react. The alcohol deadened her senses and made it easy to penetrate her mind.
She was nineteen.
With shame, I let her go and pushed her back into the street.
Orpheus had done this to us—set Alex up, orchestrated everything, just to watch me unravel.
His cruelty wasn’t just deliberate . . . it was astonishing.
“I’m sorry,” I told her as if that would prevent the damage.
Stunned, she staggered off, not quite sure what had just happened. I withdrew into the shadows and leaned against the wall of a house, feeling monstrous. With no time to feel sorry for myself, I mustered the strength to return to the police station on Wilton Road.
I leapt onto the police station’s roof in order to gather my thoughts.
It would be easy to break down Alex’s cell door and expedite his release, but not only would we both be on England’s most-wanted list, we would lose the castle.
It was imperative we did not arouse any more suspicion than we already had.
Was it too late for that now?
With a leap, I made it onto the side of the building.
I yanked at the surveillance camera’s wires, disabling them.
Checking to see the place was deserted, I headed into the parking lot and quickly found Ingrid’s black Honda Civic parked in her personal space.
I pulled up the hood and ripped at the engine wiring.
Moving swiftly, I proceeded toward the coroner’s green Range Rover and did the same to his.
With that accomplished, I spotted a window ajar and scurried up the wall until I rested at the window ledge.
With a shove, the glass frame gave, enabling me to climb through.
Following the deathly scent down the stairs, I was soon standing in the macabre presence of the cold storage room where layer upon layer of closed shelves housed the recently deceased.
Thanks, Alex.
This was not the evening I had in mind.
Searching the contents of the huge mortuary fridge, opening the long drawers one by one, I found her—Gillian Stewart, her flock of purple hair a harsh reminder of when I had been trapped with her in that room back at Belshazzar’s.
And yet, she was here in Salisbury.
I slid her corpse out of the chamber and wrapped her cold limp body in a white linen gown, disturbed by the deep incision marks—the telltale signature of the coroner. I lifted her onto my shoulder and returned with my find to the window, cringing in response to her head pounding against my back.
Ingrid wanted another body, so I would give her one.
On arriving at Stonehenge, I hid among the trees and lay the dead girl down, noting the several police officers guarding the site.
Relying on my unearthly nature to see me through, I waited for the policemen to turn their focus away.
Swiftly, I flew too quickly for the human eye to catch.
At the center of the stones, I placed Gill’s body onto the stony altar. It was strange to imagine she would not leap up and start cursing me as she had done back at the club. I hated Orpheus for doing this to her. Taking advantage of her desperate need, seducing her in with empty promises.
He was evil incarnate.
I waited for the guards to look that way again.
This . . . the cruelest twist of the mind with his final strike.
I remembered the first time I came here alone—this was the place where Orpheus had turned me, the moment everything changed. A birthplace of sorts . . . sacred, in its own twisted way. The origin of what I had become.
My thoughts wandered in the fractured stillness. Sirens blaring signaled their arrival. Following protocol, the first police officers on the scene covered Gill’s corpse with a sterile plastic covering.
Ingrid soon followed. I could see her clearly, despite her distance.
With her usual self-assurance, she climbed out of the police car.
I winced, aware that the woman I had grown so fond of would soon be standing over the dead girl.
Despite the fact that it was her job, it felt wrong.
I considered myself Ingrid’s friend, but now she was close to discovering my secret.
I was heavyhearted at having failed her.
Her love was never meant for me.
She headed toward the stones, her oversized boots slugging in the deep black mud. Turning on her flashlight, she stopped at the perimeter. Her colleagues had sealed off the area with a yellow strip of tape around the periphery of the stones. She gazed past this in awe at the megalithic monument.
Ingrid flashed her ID to a young police officer who stood guard.
“It’s her,” he said, clearly disturbed.
“Who?” Ingrid said, putting his reaction down to the gnarly crime scene. “You were all meant to be watching this site.”
“Ma’am,” the officer strained to answer. “I literally looked away for a split second and then—”
“Clearly, this took longer than a split second.” She pointed toward the flat stone in the center and the female sprawled on it— “Is not something you miss happening.”
“Hey, Ingrid, wait up!” A short, tubby, out-of-breath man hurried toward her, pulling on a white forensic suit with ‘Coroner’ stamped on the back in bold letters. He had arrived just behind Ingrid. “We have another one?”
“Hey, Dr. Ellison.”
“Usually, I don’t mind you being right,” he said.
Her face pained that she’d predicted this.
Breathless, he caught up. “Is it true you had car trouble, too?”
“Yes I did. I hitched a lift with Blake,” Ingrid answered with a quizzical expression. “You had a car problem, as well? That’s a freaky coincidence?”
They took a moment to mull over this and then turned toward the center.
Together they ducked under the tape, joining the other officers and lingering a few feet away from the central stone.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” Ingrid said.
“Good point.” Ellison pulled his surgical gloves onto his hands. “This town doesn’t get a murder for months, then three young women murdered this week. I wonder if she’s been bled out like the others. Looks like the same positioning as the other girl.
“I thought we had the suspect, but now I’m not so sure. He’s been in lock-up back at the station, so his alibi is solid,” Ingrid said.
Ellison stared at the stone structure. “Truly remarkable.”
Ingrid followed his gaze. “Is it true that they still don’t know how they got those larger stones to lie on top of the others?”
“Lintels. Yep, still a mystery,” Ellison said.
“I’m ready.” Ingrid took the examination gloves Ellison offered, handing him her flashlight before pulling the gloves onto each hand.
They both huddled over the body, barely protected from the rain by the umbrella held by the nervous young police officer at their side.
Her colleagues worked quickly, assembling a tent to shield the victim, desperate to preserve any evidence before the scene could shift.
Ingrid eased back the plastic covering placed over the corpse.
They jolted back.
“Bloody hell!” Ellison dropped the flashlight. “Ingrid, this is—”
“Yes, I recognize her. But how the hell did she get back here?” Ingrid glanced at the left side of the girl’s neck.
“Well, she didn’t bloody walk here!” Ellison snapped.
Ingrid looked around for the police officer who had tried to warn her. “Why did they bring her back here?”
“How and who?” Ellison fumbled for the dropped flashlight.
They silently absorbed what they were seeing. The sheer improbability of it. Yet, there lay Gillian. Her body recently discovered, processed and examined back at the lab. Resting in the morgue no more.
“Not a twin, I take it,” Ingrid whispered, riveted. “Autopsy scars.”
“There’s my work.” Ellison blinked in disbelief.
This felt like the beginning of a nightmare—but it was real, raw, and unfolding before their eyes with stomach-turning clarity.
Throat tight, her voice strained to say, “These are sick minds.”
“Shameful.” Ellison ran his gloved fingers over the girl’s face.
“Who placed her in the mortuary fridge?”
“That’ll be me,” Ellison said. “So far, I’m seeing no indication of further injury.”
“What motivates someone to do this?”
“Good luck with that one.”
“She’s positioned identically to when we found her before. Where are the bloody guards? How did they not see this.” Ingrid searched the horizon. “Heads will roll.”
“We’ll have to work fast before the elements compromise our evidence.”
“Let’s hope forensics gets something this time.” Ingrid frowned. “My men had strict orders: Do not leave your post. Do not take your eyes off the stones.”
“This is a first for me.”
“They literally missed a crime in real time?” Ingrid snapped.
“And someone snatching a body from my morgue.” He looked pained. “At least we have cameras.”
“What a mess.” Ingrid studied the female and surveyed the surrounding area.
“As soon as forensics have worked their magic, we’ll get her straight back to the morgue.
” Ingrid removed her gloves. “I’m hoping your second postmortem will give us something.
I’ll have our cars fingerprinted, and then we’re going to have a good look at your mortuary. ”
Ellison wiped the rain off his glasses. “The good news is we’re back down to two bodies. The bad news . . .”
“Go on.”
“The press will have a bloody field day!”
Ingrid backed away from the body, deep in thought.
She stopped in her tracks to answer her phone. “Alex Artimas? What are you talking about? What happened?” She stared at the screen aghast.
Ingrid stomped through the rain back toward her car.
Something had gone wrong back at the NIC.
I turned toward Salisbury, heading for Alex, predicted to reach the NIC before her. Desperate to save my brother.
Only, I made it as far as the tree line. Unseen and unheard, they descended upon me, my capture fast and violent. A black hood was shoved over my head, rendering me incapable of fighting back. Through muffled screams, I yelled for Alex.