Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
15
Vincent
“Who’s the victim?” I drive Everly and Ian down the leaf-strewn lane along the outskirts of town.
“Imelda Gaskins.”
“Who?” Everly strokes my arm as I speed along.
“She’s actually kind of known around here. In her seventies, has a prize rose garden. I looked her up on Google, and that’s the first thing that popped up. She won some big Rosarian award a few months ago for one of her blooms. Apparently, she breeds her own roses and some other specialty flowers.”
I glance at him in the rearview. “Fascinating. Now tell me about how she was killed.”
He glares at me. “It’s important to know the victims as people.”
“It is.” Everly threads her fingers through mine. “She was someone’s Grammy, probably. That’s awful.”
“You’re right.” I squeeze her hand.
“She’s right? I’m the one who—”
“Go on.” I cut him off. “She had a nice rose garden and what else?”
“That’s really it. She lives alone, a widow, in a cottage on the north side of town.”
“She was killed at home then?” I ask.
“No.”
“She wasn’t asleep at three in the morning?” Everly asks. “That’s weird.”
“She was out in her garden, apparently. At least that’s where she was found.”
I turn left, following the GPS directions Ian gave me. We jet past a few houses, then go for a while before a small white cottage appears up ahead.
“That’s it.” Ian points. “I guess the police tape gives it away.”
“Yeah.” Everly shivers. “Poor Imelda. She had such a cute house.”
I pull to the side of the road just down from the cottage. Everly reaches for her door. I beat her to it, pulling it open and taking her hand again.
“So fast.” She grabs her crossbow and steps out.
“You stay close to me. Got it? Don’t leave my side.”
“I didn’t plan on it.” She gets up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek.
Ian gives us a peculiar look, and Buffy hops out of the car. I didn’t want to bring her, but Everly protested that she couldn’t go vamp hunting without her cat. I can’t say no to my little poppet.
“You miss Harry?” Everly reaches for Ian’s hand, but my growl stops her. She turns to me. “I love how possessive you are, Vinny, but you have to trust me. Okay?”
“Of course I do.” Except when you want to touch anyone else but me.
“Good.” She takes Ian’s hand, and I have to rein myself in before I go on a killing spree of one. “You’ll find someone else.”
“I know.” He nods, then slowly pulls his hand away as he side-eyes me. “I’m good. I just miss him sometimes.”
“Boyfriend?” I ask.
“Ex.” Everly shakes her head. “He doesn’t even know what he’s missing. Stupid Harry. He went off to search for ancient vampire lore and never came back.”
“Ghosted me … or worse.” Ian sighs heavily, and I don’t mention that I saw him kissing a man’s photo—presumably Harry—the night I spied on Everly at the warehouse.
“Let’s go.” Ian takes off briskly.
I can feel Everly’s worry for him. “He’ll be okay.”
“I know. It’s just been tough for him.”
“Here’s her garden gate,” Ian calls and swipes through the yellow tape criss-crossing over the white picket fence.
I tighten my grip on Everly as we slip through the gate. Lifting my nose, I sniff the air.
“Anything?” Ian asks, his face pale in the moonlight.
“Not another vampire.” I sniff again. “Roses, manure, and something else. Something like sulfur.”
“Brimstone?” Ian asks right as Buffy hops the fence and dashes into the flowery garden beyond.
“Could be.”
Everly grips her crossbow with her other hand. I could speed through the garden and have a look around, but that would require me letting go of her hand. Not happening.
“Nothing seems disturbed.” Ian flicks on his flashlight and swings it around. “Not a piece of mulch out of place.”
“This one smells so good.” Everly puts her nose into a red rose and inhales.
“Up ahead. Look.” Ian trains his light on a spot marked with yellow cones joined by rope. “She was found here.” He drops to his haunches and examines the ground.
“The sulphur is stronger here, but it’s not fresh.” I sniff again, closer to the marked spot. “It’s not here.” I turn and scan the garden, then move toward the scent.
“No blood in the grass, nothing except the trampled spot where she lay,” Ian grumbles in frustration. “No clues. Why was she even out here?”
Buffy jumps from the bushes ahead and darts onto a little stone patio.
“Be careful, Buff!” Everly hisses.
I follow the feline and find what I’ve been smelling.
“A fire pit?” Everly leans over and looks at the center of the patio area. “For roasting marshmallows? I bet that was nice. Probably Grammy out here with the grandkids and the fireflies. What sort of monster would kill her?”
I can feel her anger. “We’ll figure it out and find the killer.”
“I know we will. It’s just so awful.”