Page 70 of Natural-Born Cullers

“What you got for me?” Simon took the hand offered over.

“Glad you could make it, Officer Andrews.” Simon was always “officer” in the field, never agent. Agents of MI5 only ever existed in the movies.

Reeves thumbed behind him. “Sheryl Jones. A twenty-two-year-old freelance development editor who’d also worked with a few publishers. She has a six-month-old baby who’s since been taken in by the grandmother until the father can be traced and questioned.”

Blood stains on the laminate flooring thickened more over by the TV that still played some afternoon show, and Simon went over.

Sweatpants, T-shirt, bare feet, the woman looked like she’d just finished a workout. Considering a wine glass spilled not far from her hand, it wasn’t a healthy one. Hair was supposed to be tied back, but clumps escaped, yet it wasn’t from any struggle Simon could see. The lock to the flat had been working with how he’d needed to be let in, and no furniture was pushed out of place to suggest anyone had gotten in and caused chaos. A baby bouncer sat close by, and it had every sign of a single mom easing stress by a glass of wine as the TV kept the baby busy.

Yet none of it explained why the woman lay on her back, head tilted towards the baby bouncer as if looking at the baby even after someone had gouged her eyes out.

“No other wounds bar the trauma to her eyes?” he asked quietly.

“None.” Reeves messed with something on the settee, but Simon went and checked anyway.

“Any CCTV?” He’d noticed the cameras on the street outside.

“We ran a check on the cameras, and amazingly, they were working. No one but the grandmother came in this apartment with some shopping, and she was the one to find the body.” Something else was sorted through; swipes on an iPad. “Pathologist puts her death at roughly two hours ago. He’s not calling murder yet, not until we’ve had someone look this over.”

Simon cocked a brow as he glanced up. Reeves picked up something off the table and handed it over.

A tablespoon sat inside the evidence bag, and Simon narrowed his eyes.

“Doc said the angle of the wounds could have only been done by the victim, which ties in to there being no evidence of a break-in. Nothing’s been taken either.” Reeves winced. “The bulletin said you wanted notifying of anything odd, so….”

Simon glanced around. The apartment sat in London’s Minster Court, two bedrooms, with two balconies and a roof terrace. Everything was open-plan, with dining room just behind him, a second office area, lounge…. Editing paid well, by the look of things. The apartment was hard to access, with security in the lobby, and although they had a full 360 view of London, penthouse meant the odds of really being disturbed were more than significantly reduced. That didn’t bother him too much.

The correlation between enucleation and tablespoons, not to mention gouged-out eyes, niggled more under his skin.

But the MO was so different to the See no Evil killers here. Yeah, he’d sent out a bulletin across departments to notify him off any mutilations, more so with the Blood Eagle killer in mind, mostly because sometimes basic police work could trip up killers where they might be able to hide more under coding and the web. But this… where it was unusual, it didn’t carry Blood Eagle’s level of… unusual. The See no Evil killers were also dead, so…?

“That’s not why I called you in particular.”

Simon glanced back, and Reeves straightened and thumbed to the table he stood at. “Over here.”

Hearing joints crack, Simon got to his feet and went over.

“You been fighting, sir?”

Simon tugged the second evidence bag closer to him. The bandages still wrapped his hands, and he flicked Reeves a look. “Something like that.” He held the bag up.

An envelope found a home inside. Blood stained the bottom of it, soaking through the one side, and the green of an eye looked back at him through it.

Simon snorted and Reeves nodded.

“The mother confirmed it: it’s her daughter’s handwriting. She intended to mail her eyes back to herself.”

Now that… thatwas….Simon looked at him sharply.

“Yeah, thought that would get your attention.” Reeves pointed at the laptop not far from where he placed the letter back on the table. “I went through MI5 training and failed when it came to this, so I saw the signs, albeit a little too late.” He tugged it over but didn’t press play to bring the black screen to life. He did stop Simon reaching to it.

“You can’t, not whilst I’m here.” Reeves eased his touch off. “I’ve had one officer make that mistake already, and he’s over at The Royal London now, getting his one eye seen to after he tried to dig it out with a knife.”

Simon straightened, the dots falling into place in huge neon warning signs. Whatever this woman had tried to watch, someone didn’t want her seeing it. Literally.

“Okay.” He tugged the laptop to him. “Step out for five minutes.”

Reeves patted his arm. “When you’re done, take the laptop with you. I’ll log it in. Just let the pathologist know your official call on it.” Anger settled in his eyes. “I don’t want this kind of voodoo shit around my station.”

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