Twist Read Online Free PDF Page B

shock. She was alive when he cut off her eyelids. Probably when he gutted her.”
    “Any sign of sexual activity?”
    “Doubt it, but I’ll know more when I get her to the morgue.”
    “So what do you know for sure?”
    “That’s an unfair question.”
    “I don’t care.”
    “She was cut with a serrated blade,” Nift said. “Sawed. It also had a sharp point with which to make the initial opening. Looks like the killer wore something over his feet, maybe surgical slip-ons, judging by the footprints. He was prepared for the large amount of blood.”
    “From experience,” Renz said, looking meaningfully at Quinn. He knew Quinn wasn’t yet committed to the serial killer assumption. There were no such previous murders in New York, but the manner and ritual of this one strongly suggested there would be more.
    “Same knife used to remove her eyelids?” Quinn asked Nift.
    “Looks that way. It’s not a neat job. But the eviscerating job is fairly neat.”
    “Like he’s a medical doctor?”
    “No. Like he’s done it before.”
    “Killer clean up in the bathroom?” Quinn asked.
    Nift nodded.
    Quinn walked down a short hall to the small bathroom. There were signs of blood there, but all of it was smeared and he’d bet it all belonged to the victim. He had run the shower, but it didn’t look as if he’d taken a full shower. Too smart to leave hair in the drain. This killer was careful.
    Quinn returned to the living room.
    “What’s that?” he asked, looking at a blood-smeared object protruding from the victim’s laid open abdomen.
    Nift had obviously seen the object before. He deftly used a large tweezers to lift it from the gore of Bonnie Anderson’s body cavity.
    “Statue of Liberty,” he said, grinning. “We’re dealing with a patriotic killer.”
    “It’s a cheap plastic souvenir,” Renz said. “Sold all over town. His calling card.”
    Quinn knew what Renz meant. Serial killers often left something behind so their crimes would be connected. They were interested in their grisly body count, yearning for the anonymous sort of fame that would eventually destroy them.
    Quinn was convinced now. There was ritual and compulsion here. And a certain kind of structured madness. In all likelihood, they had a serial killer on their hands.
    “Usual arrangements?” he asked.
    Renz nodded. Q&A often did work for hire for the NYPD and had a standing agreement as to terms. This worked because Renz had the public fooled into thinking he was brilliant and honest, and because Quinn had a well-founded reputation as the best there was in tracking and apprehending serial killers.
    “Let me know about the postmortem,” Quinn said to Nift, who was standing now and giving paramedics room to wrestle the corpse into a body bag. “And fax me photos.”
    “Will do,” Nift said.
    Pearl walked in, and he seemed to brighten. He was standing rigidly to his full height of under five-foot-five, his chest expanded and his expensively tailored suit coat buttoned. Pearl had opined that he had a Napoleon complex. In fact, she’d mentioned it to the little bastard to get back at him for insulting her. Nift had seemed pleased by the comparison, which had served to increase Pearl’s anger.
    Obviously for Pearl’s benefit, Nift absently inserted his open hand inside his suit coat lapel in the iconic Napoleon portrait pose.
    He noticed Quinn watching, and quickly removed the hand.
    With a last glance around, Quinn moved toward the door. Renz detoured around a lot of blood to join him. Pearl followed, saying nothing. She knew Quinn would fill her in later.
    As for the murder scene, she’d seen all of it that she wanted, and didn’t want to see any more of it than was necessary.
    They stepped around the uniform posted in the hall and walked toward the elevator.
    “You two had breakfast?” Renz asked Quinn. “I got some papers for you to sign, Quinn. And there’ll be more info coming in on the victim.”
    Quinn glanced at