Page 1 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

1

IZZY

“Get your ass back in your car, Izzy!” Laina’s voice cuts through the night air, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. I've barely crossed the halfway point to her door when she's already barreling down the apartment stairs.

“Why?” I hold up the bag of chicken fried rice and an extra order of egg rolls—our go-to order for nights binging shitty reality television.

“Because…”

A flash of her chestnut hair passes by my peripheral. Laina is tiny, standing at five foot three, but she somehow manages to command everyone’s attention whenever she is present.

“Izzy, let’s go!” she urges once again before she climbs into the passenger seat of my car, clutching her Canon camera to her chest. She waves her hand frantically as if I’ve been the one keeping her waiting.What the hell is she doing?I sigh as the idea of a relaxing night fades away, then turn in my worn boots to join her in my beater.

As soon as I buckle my seatbelt, she pulls out her phone.

“I’ve got the GPS ready to go,” she announces.

“Laina, what the hell?”

I’m wearing old sweatpants and an old navy sweatshirt from college, definitely not dressed to be seen by anyone in public. We are supposed to be chilling on her sectional, binge-eating Chinese food and drinking wine. It’s what we do every other Thursday, our very own best friend therapy session. At least she’s had time to put on a pair of jeans, I’m a mess fit for my session!

Laina’s deep hazel eyes widen with pure excitement like a child coming down the stairs Christmas morning. Her curls are splayed around her heart-shaped face. But there are only two things Laina Mitchell gets excited about - Beyonce tickets and breaking news on a case. And neither of us have tickets to see the queen.

It’s the same look she had when she snapped photos of her first big news story.

She leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper as though everyone on the block is listening to us.

“My police scanner got a call about a murder.”

My stomach tightens and every part of me becomes stiff like a board. I told her to get rid of that thing. She bought it off the blackmarket, put it in her living room, and refuses to shut it off just in case some news broke.

“Laina, we can’t. Not-” I start, but she doesn’t let me finish.

“Yes. Yes, we can.”

“Listen, I have been working doubles all week, and I just want to turn my brain off and shovel delicious Chinese food into my mouth.”

“Izzy. I’m almost certain it’s The Puppeteer’s next target.”

I stare at her for a moment. A heavy silence surrounds us both, charged with the weight of her words.

“Are you serious?” I ask in a small voice that feels far from me now. No one expected The Puppeteer to strike again. We all thought the dangerous serial killer had vanished after a two-yearkilling spree. Perhaps he’s been caught, charged with another offensive, or met some terrible fate. Though, I doubt there’s a punishment enough for a monster like that.

His two years were a reign of terror, a series of staged murders that seemed to him more art than gruesome. Like something from a nightmare, he would leave life-like marionette dolls of the women he’d attack, earning his twisted nickname.

My heart thuds in my chest. She nods slowly as the realization of her words settles over the both of us.

“And if you don’t start driving this damn car, we could be missing out on the biggest story to break the news,” she says.

Most people would go back inside, have their dinner, and lock their doors, staying far away from danger. But Laina and I aren’t most people.

We met in college, both studying photojournalism. She went down the path of freelance journalism, always on the hunt for breaking news, and I found myself working for the police as a forensic photographer. This was going to be my first night off in a long while.

“What if Reynolds sees me?” I ask her. There's a chance of encountering my boss, Detective Sergeant Eric Reynolds, at a crime scene as big as this. He’s a stickler for rules, and the only reason I got this job was because he was friends with my dad, the old chief of police. He’d want to know what the hell I was doing at a crime scene on the day off I begged him to give me.

“We’ll be ghosts, Izzy, barely there. In, grab a few pics, and out. Just like that.” She snaps her fingers before continuing. “Out before anyone catches a glimpse.” She tilts her head. “Besides, I need your help getting past the yellow tape.”

“Well, I’m not letting this bastard get away this time,” I say. My grip tightens around my steering wheel. I’m taking a huge risk. We both are, but it could pay off.

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