Hell's Belle Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Are you going to be able to get back to your car later?” I asked.
    Max nodded, smiling, and laid his hand on my arm, giving my bicep a squeeze. “You and your concussion OK getting home?”
    “No problem.” I smiled back at him and started up the engine.
    Max nodded. "See you later." Then he thumped the top of my helmet and walked off in the direction of the red and blue flashing lights.
    Once Max was out of sight, I started up the bike and followed him in the direction of the cop lights, cutting into an empty lot about halfway down the block. I killed the engine and dismounted. Then I ducked behind a scrap metal heap.
    Because the Port of Providence was the largest exporter of scrap, mountains of twisted and rusting metal surrounded the docks. And in the valleys around these peaks, the garish signs from the strip clubs formed a neon oasis among the jagged metal.
    There must have been a ship that went out earlier in the day. The pile wasn't crazy high; it was far from the Mt. Everest of scrap. I could easily scale it.
    Since I saw one of the victims ghost out at the hospital, I wanted to get a bird’s-eye view of this murder scene. If he decided to go full-on haunt, maybe I’d pick up some clues that could help a medium send him along to his next life. Since he died violently, there was a good chance he’d need a little help.
    I carefully put my booted foot onto what looked like an old car bumper and pulled myself up. The pile shifted under my weight, but steadied right away. As quickly and as lightly as I could, I climbed my way to the top, tottering about fifteen feet off the ground, the metal groaning slightly with each step. I trained my eyes on the crime scene, wishing I had binoculars.
    The dock was abandoned, but it was covered with about a foot of well-trampled snow. The seclusion, plus the proximity to the strip clubs, made it a good spot for illicit activities. From what I could make out, five bodies were arranged in a circle, with the feet meeting in the middle. It looked like they formed the spokes of a wheel. There was an empty spot that had a human shape indented in the snow -- my ghostly friend from the hospital. Max stood over the bodies, his shape casting a dark shadow where it blocked the police floodlight.
    "Get out of the light, dammit," I muttered as the metal shifted under my weight. I readjusted my footing and a trickle of metal slipped down the pile. The uniformed cop by the crime scene tape stood a little straighter.
    Max walked towards a man I assumed was a detective, allowing the light to flood back over the bodies. I gritted my teeth. Two men and three women. There were dark spots in the snow near the bodies -- blood spatter perhaps. But it was tough to make it out from where I was positioned.
    Max huddled with the detective. He picked up a long, slender item. Murder weapon? It was hard to tell. This distance thing was a pain.
    A flash of headlights pulled my eyes out of focus. I blinked a few times. When I looked again, my hospital ghost was standing in a disturbed area of snow near the corpses. That must have been where my little Casper went down.
    He looked at the cops and looked back down at the bodies. He was growing increasingly agitated at what the cops were saying. His mouth moved rapidly, and his arms waved around, punctuating his silent words with an urgency that only I could see and sense. His defiance grew as the police continued to mill around the bodies. My hearing wasn't strong enough to pick up what the cops were saying, so I had no idea what had upset him.
    He threw up his hands and aimed them at the floodlights. With a pop, the lights went dead and the dock was plunged into darkness. One of the cops let out a string of impressive curses and then chaos broke out as they scrambled to get the lights back up.
    I shifted position again. The junk pile creaked under my weight. I lost my footing and slid several feet down the metal mountain, creating a loud crunching sound as