Page 28 of Savage Seduction

I sit back on my heels and sob. How could this be happening to me? Haven’t I already endured enough? I’ve had to change careers, been unable to seriously date, and spent more hours awake from insomnia and fear of my own dreams than anyone should have to endure.

And now it's happening again.

A knock at the door shakes me back to the present. I scramble to my feet and wipe the remaining sweat from my face, rinse my mouth out in the sink, remove my gloves, and wash my hands. I unlock the door and apologize to the line of people waiting to go inside and hurry back to London.

“Babe, you okay? I would have come to you, but I didn’t want to leave this unattended.”

“It’s okay.” I take a few sips of the coffee, which suddenly doesn’t taste good to me. “Did you read the letter?”

She nods. “What are you going to do?”

“First things first. I’m going to open the container and then decide.” After putting on a fresh pair of gloves, I reach a trembling hand into the box and pull out the container. It is white and opaque. I unlatch the lid and open it.

Unsure if it's the fact I’ve already thrown up my breakfast or if I am still in shock, but the sight of a severed finger doesn’t rock me as much as the letter had. I place the container on the table and slide it to London.

She looks away and gags. Waving her hands, she says, “Get the lid back on quick.”

I put the lid on and say, “It’s clear he has taken someone, but who? The finger definitely was severed pre-mortem by the amount of dried blood. The finger looks to me like it belongs to an adult male. Do you agree?”

She nods. “The fingernail was definitely a male’s, and it was too thick and creased to be a child.”

“How can we get this to the police without him knowing it? I am sure he is watching me. Maybe he’s staking out the police station?”

London shrugs. “I don’t know, but we can’t keep the finger.”

“I know that.” I sit back in my chair and tap the end of my chin while I think. “What if we keep the letter and box, but wipe down the plastic container and mail it to the station?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The container might have an embedded tracker. I can check for that at my house to be sure. What I’m concerned about is if we do something and get caught by The Butcher, not only are our lives in danger, but this hostage. It could be someone’s dad or something.”

I think about it for a while and then sigh. “You’re right. How about this? Since I don’t think The Butcher can surveille you, me, and the police station at the same time… you take the container and scan it for a tracker. If there isn’t one, put it in a mailer and drive all over the city. Stop for gas. Stop for food. Shop if you want. Take all day and then sneakily drop it into one of the postal boxes along the sidewalk.”

London takes it all in for a moment and then agrees. “I can do that, but I have some new tech I’ve been learning to use, and I think this will be the perfect time to implement it.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a digital fingerprint collector and printer. I found a guy online who knew a guy on the dark web… anyway, none ofthat is important. We can basically scan the finger and digitally enhance the fingerprint to be used to search databases for who it belongs to. We can also print the fingerprint onto a latex glove to use for fingerprint authentication. Not that it’ll come in handy here, but it’s my favorite part.”

“Wow, that is badass. Do it,” I say. “If we can identify who he took, we might be able to find him before the man is murdered.”

My watch vibrates. “Dammit. I have to go to work. I really appreciate you, and trust me, I could never do this without you.”

“Damn straight you couldn’t.” She smiles and blows me a kiss. “You owe me.”

“I sure do,” I say, getting up from the table. I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “Love you, bestie.”

“Love you too.” She gets up and collects the items she is now in charge of keeping safe. “I’ll call you when I have something to report.”

“Sounds perfect.” I hurry out the door and to my car. My mind is spinning with possibilities.

Was The Butcher watching me right now? Even if the police find out who the finger belonged to, how would they find him before it’s too late? I don’t think I could survive another run-in with the most notorious serial killer the city of Los Angeles has ever encountered. But could I leave another person to suffer at his hands? The only thing I am certain of—evil has returned, and it feels like it is right behind me.

CHAPTER 13

Max

There hadn't been enough time after leaving London to go home and pack a lunch before heading into work. But that's what fast food was invented for—people too busy to take care of themselves.

I sit in my car outside the museum and eat some fries. They aren't particularly good—a little too soggy, a lot too salty—but my mind is occupied with things other than my budding arteriosclerosis. I reach into the bag once more, and my fingers settle on the salty, greasy bottom. The disappointment pulls me from my imagination and quickly darkening musings.Am I being taunted by a ghost?I close my eyes for a second and actually feel The Butcher’s body shudder with each shot my partner took, successfully filling the monster with hot lead.

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