Cold Blooded Read Online Free PDF

forehead was suddenly lined, her
    eyebrows pulled together, and she leaned back in her chair as if
exhausted.
"It's genetic?"
"I don't know how it works, okay? That's just what happened in my
    family. And it's not always at night, in dreams. Sometimes it can happen in the middle of the day, driving down the Interstate."
    "Could be dangerous."
"That's right, it is. And it's ... a royal pain telling people about it
and trying to make them understand. To believe."
    "It's a big leap for most of us mere mortals," Bentz agreed.
    Behind her Montoya tried to keep his expression bland, but there was a glimmer in his dark eyes as he took a sip of coffee. He didn't say it, but / told you so was written all over him.
    "I already admitted that I know it sounds crazy," she said, as if she, too, felt the skepticism in the small room.
    She seemed so small and out of place in the station where, though it was barely eight in the morning, the place was a beehive of activity. The door to Bentz's office was ajar and through the opening he caught glimpses of officers and civilians, heard snatches of conversation and muffled laughter, watched as more than one suspect was dragged to a desk for a statement But this woman didn't belong here.
    Whatever she was, it wasn't a cop, a criminal, or, he suspected, a valid witness.
    Slumping down in the chair, she rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold to her bones though the room was stuffy, hot enough that he'd cracked the window open. The sounds of the city waking up wafted inside--pedestrians walking and talking, the tires from passing cars whining, engines rumbling, and pigeons cooing and flapping their wings from an upper ledge. She ran long fingers along her jaw. "I shouldn't have come here," she said as if to herself. "I knew you wouldn't believe me ... but I had to try."
    "Detective Montoya, maybe you could scour up some coffee for Ms. Benchet?"
    "I'm fine--" she protested, but Montoya was already out the door.
    Oh" via leaned forward, as if now that they were alone she could confide in him. "You have to believe me, Detective Bentz. A woman was murdered early this morning. Brutally.
    I saw it."
    "But you weren't there."
    "No, no, in my mind's eye."
    "While you were sleeping," he pointed out
    "It wasn't a dream!" she said emphatically, not so much angry as desperate. "I know the difference." Montoya, carrying a paper coffee cup, slipped into the room again. "The priest tortured her and--"
    "Priest?" Montoya repeated as he handed her the cup.
    Some of his cocksure bravado slipped. "A priest was the killer?"
    "Yes. He was dressed in robes. Vestments."
    Bentz scowled as he understood why she'd singled him out. He set the pen on his notepad and leaned back in his chair. "Let me guess. You read about Montoya and me solving the other case this past summer, so you thought that we'd be able to help out. Because we're kind of experts on the whole Catholic-homicide thing and you've seen a priest." He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
    "I hoped so," she admitted, and she looked so guileless he had the unexpected urge to believe her. But he knew better.' ', I get it," she said, and those amber eyes sparked as the light dawned. "You actually think I read about the serial killer last summer, and because I didn't have anything better to do, I just bopped down here with a wild story about a priest to try and stir things up, right? To gain some attention, my ' minutes or seconds of fame'?"
    He didn't reply.
    "Oh, give me a break. Who would do that? Come on!"
    "Ms. Benchet--"
    "Don't patronize me, okay, and it's Olivia. Let's get that straight, right now. I realize my story sounds hideous, and believe me it was, but I witnessed the murder, as surely as if I was in that tiny bathroom."
    "A bathroom?" Montoya interjected again.
    "That's where it happened. Where a priest, a man who was supposed to have dedicated his life to God, killed a woman he had chained to a
    sink."
    Montoya arched a brow. "So, Ms.