Precious Blood Read Online Free PDF

making any noise. And he kept talking to her, but I just knew she was dead. I could feel it. And I think he was taking pictures, too; I think I heard a Polaroid camera—I recognized that sound when the print comes out.”
    “And you were in the kitchen? Did you see a flash or anything?”
    She closed her eyes, trying to remember. She shook her head.
    “No, I didn’t see a flash. But I was tucked all the way under the counter, and I wasn’t looking out. I knew if he came back to the kitchen to get his stuff, he’d find me—he’d left his badge on the table, and his jacket was on a chair, with his walkie-talkie.”
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    Garcia asked if she’d got a good look at the badge; she hadn’t. It looked like a typical white metal police badge.
    Jenner asked if Andie made any noise after she’d first heard the camera.
    “No, I don’t think so. But the TV was really loud. And there was some kind of burning smell—I don’t know what that was.”
    Garcia said, “Did you see or smell smoke?”
    “No.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t like a smoky smell, more chemical, like metal or something. I didn’t recognize it.
    “I was trying not to hear what he was doing to her. It took him a long time, and then he stopped moving around, but he didn’t leave. I was lying there waiting for him to come in and find me and hurt me, but he stayed in the living room. And then I realized he was just watching TV. And that was when I decided I was going to get out of there alive.”
    She looked up at them, her words now fast.
    “I checked his jacket for his gun, but it wasn’t there. So I took a kitchen knife and started to crawl down the hallway to the bathroom, trying to stay in the shadows. I’d only made it halfway to her door when he said,
    “Ana?”
    She lunged to her feet and ran, but he was incredibly fast. His fist grabbed her hair, jerking her backward, the knife flying out of her hands, her hair ripping out of her scalp as she spun around the corner.
    She stumbled to the door handle, slammed the door hard on his reaching hand. He gasped and pulled back.
    She closed the door and slid the bolt, and he was instantly pounding at the door, trying to kick it in. She ran to the window, threw it open, and screamed as she tried to squeeze through the bars, the whole room booming as his foot smashed against the door.
    She could hear the door splintering as she breathed in 28
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    and out, trying to wedge herself through the gap. There was a shattering noise as he burst through, and she pushed hard, and finally swung out onto the trellis, but immediately lost her grip and fell onto the trash barrels fifteen feet below.
    Half-conscious on the wet flagstones of the yard, unable to breathe, she looked up; he was standing there in the window, looking down at her in the rain. His face and chest were covered in blood—he was naked.
    He was smiling through lips smeared with Andie’s blood, smiling at her as he said, “Ouch! That had to hurt!”
    He watched her struggling to catch her breath, struggling to crawl.
    “Run along. I’ll come for you so we can play later . . .”
    Then she was crawling, moving across the rotting leaves and glistening flagstones toward the back wall.
    “But where will you go? No more Mommy. No more Daddy. Poor little Ana! All alone . . .”
    He heard her sob, and his tone changed abruptly.
    “I hope you’re not crying for that bitch! You know, she wasn’t really your friend. I’d barely started on her when she gave you up: she told me you were there, tried to get me to play with you instead!” He laughed sharply. “I didn’t believe her, but I guess the little whore was telling the truth . . . So, where were you hiding?”
    She’d reached the sundial now, and managed to pull herself to standing.
    He started to clap slowly, the sounds echoing in the wet garden. Then he stopped and said, “You do know there’s nowhere you can go, don’t you? Wherever you go,