Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8), Kaylie Hunter [best motivational books txt] 📗

turned biker who works private contract missions. He does a full cardio, weight lifting and martial arts training every day. He’s also a better shooter than me, both with handguns and sniper rifles. Did you think I hired some wanna-be to babysit me?”

“Shit,” Crater said, running a hand over his buzz cut. “If he comes asking for me, my name is Fred. Crater left already.”

I laughed before turning back to the scene and walking a wide circle around the body. I was careful to stay out of the path of the pool of blood. When I returned to the front, I squatted to look closer at the large red ribbon and note taped to the body.

With the ribbon and note, the staging of the body looked almost playful. Not like mad psycho, but a quirky humor. The kind of humor one gets when they’ve seen a lot of bloodshed. If this was Mr. Tricky, then it would make sense. After the altercation with him in the ally, and again behind the truck stop, I was pretty certain he’d had some type of military training in his past life. And the death wasn’t drawn out like you’d see with someone with mental issues. It was quick. Efficient. Maybe a little too bloody for my taste, but hey, I was never in combat. But the way he left the body, tied up with a makeshift bow on him, suggested he knew I was coming after Grenway. He was playing with me. Having fun while letting me know he was three steps ahead of me. And I had to admit, Mr. Tricky was good. I doubted there would be any DNA left at the scene.

My phone rang at the same time the forensic team arrived. “Hang on a minute, Kelsey,” I said before looking at the forensic team. “I need a full sweep of the house for prints. Doors, windows, the works. And I need everything searched, bagged, and tagged. This case will be reviewed by I.A. later, so be thorough.”

“You got it,” one of the women on the team said.

“Oh, and that recliner,” I said, pointing behind me. “I think the killer sat in it. Bag it.”

“You want us to bag a lazy boy?” she asked.

“Or whatever the equivalent is, yes,” I said before turning my attention back to the phone. “Sorry, Kelsey. What’s up?”

“Now who sounds bossy?” Kelsey said.

“Did you need something or are you bored and decided to derail my day?”

“Touchy. Ouch. I called to find out why Wild Card and Bones went running out of here so fast. You in trouble?”

“No. I’ve got SWAT watching my back until the boys get here. I found my serial killer. We’re processing his house right now.”

“Great. Case closed. So why do you sound even more stressed out than before?”

“My serial killer is dead.”

“Did you shoot him?”

“No! He was dead when I got here.”

“Good. Stick to that story. Should I call a lawyer?”

“I didn’t kill him! He was taped to a chair and his throat was slit. I think even I.A. would know that’s not my style.”

“Then who killed him?”

I looked back at the note taped to Grenway’s chest. “I’m pretty sure it was Mr. Tricky.”

Kelsey was silent on the other end.

I glanced at my phone, but we were still connected. “Hello? Nothing to say?”

“I’m calling Bones. Do not ditch your security team again!”

She hung up as I heard Beast bark. I stood to look out the window. Wild Card leaned over to pet Beast, as Bones pulled his phone from his back pocket, moving it to his ear. I watched him smile, then frown, then his head snapped my way. He pointed at me, then at the ground in front of him. I shook my head no. He snapped his fingers, then pointed again. I shook my head no again. Wild Card watched Bones, then me, and back and forth. He was smiling ear to ear.

“Detective?” one of the forensic techs said. “We found something.”

I smirked and waved at Bones before following the tech down the hall. In the bedroom, the tech waved a hand toward a walk-in closet. Inside the closet, multiple guns were mounted to the wall. A small desk sat along the back wall with a laptop and several files. Above the desk were what looked like hundreds of pictures taped to the wall. They were grouped in sets of four or five each, showing several different shots of individuals. I spotted Roseline’s picture and studied the grouping. In one, she was at work, behind the checkout counter. In another, she was entering our apartment building. In yet another, she was getting into her car. He’d stalked her. Ran recon on her for at least a few days.

I took a step back, looking at the wall again. “There must be at least fifty victims,” I said to myself.

“Detective? Sorry, I couldn’t hear what you said,” the tech said, standing by the closet door.

“Photograph everything in here before bagging it. And call for extra help. It’s gonna be a long day.”

“Will do,” the tech said, pulling the camera strap off her shoulder to start taking pictures.

I walked down the hall and out the door, calling Quille as I stepped outside.

“I’m still in the evidence room. Do you have Grenway at the station?”

“Not exactly.”

“He got away?”

“Not exactly,” I said glancing back at the house.

“I’m not in the mood, Kid. Spit it out.”

“Grenway’s dead. But he’s got a shitload of evidence in the house that’ll prove he’s our hitman. I think it’s time to ask Internal Affairs to take over the investigation. Let them sort this shit out.”

“Did you shoot Grenway?” Quille asked with a big sigh.

“Why does everyone keep asking if I killed him?”

Wild Card laughed, standing in front of me.