Page 45 of Nightshades

“What if they didn’t? What if they are calling the shots from prison?”

“Maybe. I don’t know how they would know where I am. I suppose anything is possible. Usually, there are other threats though. Threats that are more personal. This isn’t personal. Someone knows I took her file. That’s the only connection. I wasn’t friends with Fireopal. She was on my list to open an investigation on.”

“I want you to walk this off. Go to Demi’s,” Sheriff says from behind me.

I spin around, groaning when he has his arms crossed with a ‘don’t argue with me’ expression on his face.

“Come on, Sheriff. You can’t be serious? I’m fine. I don’t know this person.”

“That you know of,” he adds. “We have the crime scene. Your expertise is welcome at the station later when we are done here. If the killer knows you, we will need to dig into your past. Do you have anything that you need to tell me now? Ever since you got to town, there have been deaths. There’s a connection there we can’t ignore, and you know it. I know you want to argue with me about it.” He holds up his hand to stop me from speaking. “But you know I’m right. Get out of here, Sanchez. I’ll call you if we need you.”

“This is bullshit, Sheriff. I’m the only detective in this town. You need me.”

“And we plan on using you. I’m asking that you separate yourself for a few hours. Think about everyone you’ve ever met in your life and come to the station with a list.”

I grit my teeth together, fury welling up inside me like the sea during a catastrophic storm. Holstering my firearm, and without saying another word, I leave.

“¡Qué maricada!” I hiss to myself, stepping over the destruction of the door to walk outside.

Zig runs up to me, sweating from canvassing the neighborhood. “What’s fucking ridiculous?” he asks, bending over to place his hands on his thighs.

“Jake kicked me off the case for now since the killer left me a message.”

Zig straightens, brows raise, and he wipes the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. “Come on, Sanchez. You know that’s the right call. You would have made the same one if you were calling the shots and you know it.”

“That’s what is more frustrating. I know he is right, but I’m pissed, Zig. I feel like this person is coming after me somehow, and I don’t know why. It’s my fault all these murders are happening. Ever since I came here, this department has been slammed with chaos. Maybe…” I exhale at the thought, but it needs to be said. “Maybe I need to go back to New York. They have more manpower to handle something like that. You, Waylon, Jenkins, even the Sheriff, you’re exhausted.”

“We’re doing our jobs. We’re happy to have you here, and if someone is messing with you, taunting you, or if you’re their next target, we want to be the ones protecting you. You are one of us now, Lula. You’re Cove Police Department family. We won’t risk your life just because this happened. We’ve had serial killers before. Hell, that’s the reason the old sheriff quit, and Jake took over. Granted, they were never caught, so maybe it’s the same guy.”

I slap his arm and walk away, deciding to use the stroll home to clear my head. “You’re sweet, Zig. You and I know that isn’t the case, but thanks for making me feel better.”

“Sure, no problem. If you need me, call me.”

I turn, giving a small, forced smile and half salute, half wave. A light mist of rain begins to fall, and the clouds churn a darker shade of grey, a storm brewing like it does every day.

I’m starting to wonder if I made the right choice transferring here. All I have brought is trouble.

I’ve seen these types of cases before. The endings are all the same.

I’m going to be this man’s last victim.

He’s going to kill me.

I follow Lula, keeping myself in the shadow of the trees so she can’t see me.

The wind blows her aromatic perfume in my direction, sweet and tempting, unknowingly feeding me enough not to kill another. I have a lot of blood on my hands, and because of that, her cop friends seem to think I’m putting Lula in danger.

I’dneverdo that.

Okay, I’m lying.

I would, but that would be for her as well. I’ve smelled and seen how wet she becomes when she is afraid. I’d use that to our advantage, but I’d never kill her.

Her blood is the last I ever want drenching my palms. Her life is too important to me. Her existence is vital to mine. If she ever did allow me to bleed her dry, I wouldn’t let any drop goto waste. I’d lick her from my hands and suck my fingers in my mouth, relishing the flavor that was made for me.

And only me.

Then, I’d have her feed from me. I’d cut myself open and allow my smoke to fill her veins, to bring her to life again.