Pieces of Ivy Read Online Free PDF

turned. “This old place has running water?”
    Vicki pointed at the corner. “Rain barrel.”
    “Right—missed that.”
    She saw him scanning the space, unsettled. “What is it, Dashel?”
    “I don’t know,” he admitted.
    † † †
    Ages had passed since the last time, and already it was back—the feeling that had always separated him from his colleagues. The frustrating knowledge that something wasn’t right but was impossible to quantify. With the intuition came that familiar coil of isolation.
    Then Agent Starr’s voice shared his misgivings. “Something feels off, doesn’t it?”
    He looked at her for the first time without contempt or professional restraint—an unexpected glimmer of respect.
    † † †
    Vicki knew this was supposed to be a crime scene, but somehow it didn’t feel like it. Inhaling the thick musty smell, she scanned the barn’s decay. “So where’s the body?”
    Charlie motioned toward the back. “This way.”
    Two men in white coveralls exited their way. Something felt off with them too. They weren’t staring at her, undressing her with either fleeting glimpses or longing stares. This wasn’t arrogance on her part; most men enjoyed looking at her. Even under the most inappropriate circumstances, men tended to be men—it was the natural order of things. Vicki had grown so accustomed to the ogling that it felt far more uncomfortable when it was withheld. She confirmed it as the men moved to avoid her. They were aware of her presence but wouldn’t look at her— couldn’t look at her.
    Entering the back, she stepped around Hank so she could see. A long stainless-steel table sat on wheels in the middle of a dim chamber tucked behind four stalls—a white sheet draped over the body. It shouldn’t have been covered yet. The agents approached, calm with professional objectivity. Unfortunately Vicki knew what to expect. She had seen her share of brutal murders.
    “What?” she asked Cooper.
    He stood on the far side of the table, watching them both, hesitating to expose the body.
    “Come on, Charlie. Let’s see it.”
    Hank shot his friend a furtive glance. Working a decade of homicides with the man, Coop had never shown a moment’s hesitation. If he was unsure, it was for good reason.
    Cooper drew back the sheet. Vicki’s hand jumped to her mouth as it sucked in a short gasp of vicious death.
    The file reported the brutal slaying of a young woman—that did her death no justice. This was grotesque. Wrong on every level imaginable. The killer didn’t just hate this woman—he hated all women, which showed in his atrocity.
    “You okay, Vicki?” Charlie asked gently.
    All she could muster was a quick nod as she forced her eyes forward. She was a professional, goddamn it.
    “Hank?” Cooper asked.
    Vicki glanced upward. Hank’s face mirrored the terrified revulsion she felt to her core. She had never witnessed such a twisted blend of horror, disgust and anguish on a sane man’s face. His lips had drained to become a sickly white—matching the pallor of his skin; only the variance in texture betrayed them as lips. Still, it was better than looking back down upon her .
    † † †
    Hank cut his nails into his palms—pain to rupture his trance. They were here to do a job. He locked onto the safety of Coop’s eyes, while Hank secretly begged his brain to flush the image from his mind. His voice cracked, fighting to regain professional composure. “What can you tell us?”
    Cooper lingered on his two friends for a long moment—his voice grave and sincere. “I’ve never seen so many different mutilations—one on top of another. Separate desecrations, again and again. This should never, ever have—” He glanced down at the defiled woman for only a second. “It’s going to take time to piece together what actually happened—and when.”
    Hank barely nodded. Vicki watched his eyes swell—his mouth resisting emotion. His pocket buzzed. He quickly turned and stepped away