Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) Read Free Page B

use.
    He cursed to himself, his theory shot down. “Maybe she froze in shock…fainted,” he speculated, trying to imagine all possible scenarios of what might have occurred that terrible night. He just prayed she was unconscious when the blood was drained from her body. To be conscious would have been torture of the worst kind. A torment fit for hell.
    Sheriff Pierson massaged the back of his neck to loosen the tense muscles giving rise to a migraine. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and rooted around until he found a bottle of aspirin. Popping the top, he shook out two tablets and tossed them back with a swig of black coffee that had turned cold after sitting too long, wrinkling his face at the awful taste. He took a deep breath and tried to expel his frustration. This case was impossible! What purpose could the killer have had for draining the victim’s blood?
    “O positive,” he said. Someone might have needed that particular blood type for some critical reason, possibly emergency surgery.
    He’d always been a “keep your feet planted firmly on the ground and your head out of the clouds” kind of man. However, he delved yet further into the pit of absurdity as he considered the possibility that Hixton might have even become an abode for a cult. Could Louisa Jaffler have fallen victim to ritualistic murder? It might be improbable, but not unheard of. He’d read about such occurrences happening in small, out-of-the-way places.
    Releasing another groan, he lit a Marlboro , took a long, deep drag and slowly let it out. The smoke lingered in front of him for several seconds before dispersing. He rubbed at the twitch in his left ear, a signal that always alerted him something wasn’t quite right. An inner alarm that, to date, had never failed him.
    There hadn’t been a murder in the Jackson County area for more than thirty years, and news of the killing had the community stirred. Bigger than anything he’d ever faced during his career in law enforcement, the pressure to supply answers weighed heavily on his shoulders. His small force consisted of good, honest people, but they had no experience when it came to handling a homicide investigation. They normally dealt with less severe crimes, more along the lines of shoplifting, breaking up domestic disputes, or running down speeders. But like him, his team was dedicated, and would never veer off a road just because it got a little rocky. They had a job to do, and with him personally overseeing the case, they would absolutely get it done. This was his county, and he was determined to do everything in his power to keep the residents here safe.
    He wanted to believe this murder would be a one time incident, but that nagging spasm just wouldn’t let up, smothering him with an intense fear that more killing would follow.
    Someone needing the victim’s specific blood type for emergency surgery was a far-reaching scenario, but one he couldn’t rule out. He refused to dismiss any possibility without at least some minor consideration. With that in mind, he grabbed his hat from the stand next to his door and set a course for Black River Falls Memorial Hospital.
     
    * * * *
     
    The sheriff approached the information desk and stated his position.
    “I’m conducting an investigation and I’d like to speak to someone in charge, anyone having the authority to relinquish information.” He removed his hat revealing his reddish-blond, recently trimmed, hair.
    “I’ll see if our hospital administrator, Patricia Watson, is available,” the receptionist reached for her phone handset and tapped several digits on the dial pad.
    Thanking her, Pierson took a seat, waiting no more than a minute, when a tall, shapely brunette woman appeared in a doorway to his right. He held an unflinching gaze on her as she strode toward him, loving a woman with a strong mind and self-assurance to match, and by the way this woman moved—shoulders squared and head held high—she appeared to