Page 78 of Knotted their Beauty
“You don’t think—”
“Gotta go,” Ves grunts as he comes barreling down the hall, shoulder holsters already in place as he pulls his suit coat on.
I blink a few times then shake my head. “What the fuck do you mean you have to go?”
“Work. Got a body.” He grabs his keys and phone from the counter, stuffing them into his pockets as he walks toward the door. “Yes day today. I’ll try to come back for lunch.”
Then he’s gone.
“Did he really just leave?” Lennox asks, both of us staring at the closed door as if we can see through it.
“Sure did. Our omega just left to go to a crime scene he just created.” And if that isn’t the fuck all of it wasn’t me, it was the one armed man, I don’t know what is.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
VES
“That was quite the stunt you pulled.”
I lift my eyes from the mountain of paperwork on my desk and narrow them as Butler comes in and slams the door of my borrowed office. “Excuse me?”
He nods as he tugs on his lapels and stands across from me. “You got your ass on TV. Hope you’re happy.”
This bastard knows better than anyone how much I hate dealing with the press. I can’t stand doing interviews, I always refuse to give a statement. I despise when the reporters get in my way or nearly compromise a scene. They never report the right info anyway, and I’ll be damned if it’s because of something I said.
Marley tells me I have the look for it. I could easily be the spokesperson for every case because I’m easy on the eyes in a terrifying way and while I appreciate it, I’d sooner punch myself in the face until I blacked out.
Not to mention, I try to avoid putting myself out there to avoid any unwanted attention.
I’ve been catching serial killers for a long time but I didn’t start out chasing them. I have arrests that have been released for one reason or another. Appeals, good behavior, end of terms. I don’t need those fuckers finding me. Then you throw in my psychotic ex. I’ve avoided cameras like the plague because despite the PPO, I don’t trust that bitch to stay away if she knows where we are.
If I managed to get photographed, or show my face on TV like in this case, it was by complete accident, and I’m about to raise hell with whoever slapped my mug across screens everywhere.
“All eyes are on you now, March. They made you as lead on The Orphan, you’re going to have the press on your ass like flies on shit.”
“Techincally, you’re lead.” I arch my brow and lean back in my chair. “You’ve made that pretty goddamn clear. This is your case ever since the old lady at the beach, before that, if you ask me. Maybe I should make a statement and let them know who’s ass they need to cover in shit?”
Butler scowls, “Stay. Away. From the vultures.”
An image from early this morning slams into my mind, one that floods my senses and takes me back to it as if I was standing in the middle of the desert all over again.
The crowd was already huge by the time I got to Corvus’ body.
The news was everywhere.
There were more bystanders than any case I’ve worked before.
It didn’t help that the woman who stumbled across the bloody scene worked for an online station. A glorified blogger who never has a real story, or actual facts to back them. She was out for a morning hike and saw the vultures, followed them, and when she found Corvus, she called her colleagues before the authorities, and compromised the hell out of the crime scene in the process.
Not that I’m mad about that. If anything, it helps me out.
But that’s not what’s playing on a loop in my mind.
“Get away from those goddamn vultures, Charlie! You’re running through my shot!”
My dad calls my sister Charlie while the rest of us call her Lottie, and the nickname caught my ear.
