Edge of the Heat 5 Read Free Page A

everywhere. Her couch was drenched with it. A pile of  clothes in the middle of the floor were splashed in it and then kicked around, as if to be sure every item was touched. The lamps had bright spatters that looked like art. But the foot-high words scrawled on the walls in blood chilled his heart the worst.
    Conniving Abandoning BITCH
    Do your job you CUNT
    Your blood lesson is coming
    “Sara?” he whispered, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. Every step he took further into the room felt like it was through quicksand. His legs shook and tried to buckle. He’d never seen anything like this, even with all his years as a paramedic. Jerry didn’t think evil was something lurked in the hearts of men, or anything cliche like that. In fact, he thought the hurt that people usually caused each other was more from misunderstanding, and broken-ness, and love-seeking. But this was evil. Done by an evil person. He had no doubt about that.
    He broke to his left and ran down the hallway, his neat, black shoes thudding heavily in the confined space. He slowed at the bathroom, but didn’t stop. It seemed empty at a glance. The bedroom light was on and he entered at a run, slamming the door into the wall as he pushed it open.
    Empty.
    He whirled to the closet and ripped it open.
    Also empty except for plastic hangers hung askew with more littering the floor.
    He fought an insane urge to check under the bed like a scared child, and then thought better of it. Of course he should check under the bed. This was a crime scene and he wanted to be careful.
    Jerry dropped soundlessly to the floor, but there was nothing under the bed. He pushed up to his feet and walked slowly back down the hallway, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. The apartment was quiet. And it felt different.
    He turned on the light in the bathroom and looked inside, but there were no hiding places.
    The kitchen .
    Cautiously, he made his way past the closed front door into the kitchen. He turned on the light and scanned the room. The dining area opened up past the big refrigerator and there was a dead space behind it that he couldn’t see.
    His heartbeat sped up, beating so loudly it was all he could hear. He looked around for a weapon, but saw nothing, not even a broom. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. He flexed his knees slightly, ready to react if someone sprang at him.
    “911, what is your emergency?”
    “I’m at Mariana Day apartments. My friend’s apartment has been broken into and someone ... someone ruined it.”
    “What is your name?”
    “Jerry Mansko.”
    “Jerry, it’s Miranda. Are you OK?”
    “Yeah Miranda, I’m OK, but my friend doesn’t seem to be here and I don’t know what happened to her. Her place is destroyed. Someone poured blood all over everything.”
    The dispatcher’s quick intake of breath told Jerry that she understood how bad things were.
    As he talked Jerry walked forward, eyes wide and scanning the whole dining room at once. Empty as far as he could see.
    Miranda clicked off for a second to start dispatching police and Jerry took some deep breaths, trying to calm down.
    Suddenly he knew what felt different about the apartment. It felt empty.
    He turned in a slow circle, phone still to his ear, and looked at the foyer where the door should be standing open like he left it. He couldn’t see it. Which meant it was closed.
    Shoving his phone in his pocket, he took three large steps and ripped the door open. Raking his head left, then right, he determined the hallway was empty. In a split second he decided whoever had been in the apartment was more likely to have left via the back stairs, so he sprinted that way. Visions tore through his skull of Sara being dragged down the steps, a hand over her mouth and a gun to her temple.
    He skidded to a stop at the back wall and looked over the grass behind the building. Nothing was moving. He ran to the steps and took them two at a time to the bottom. Nobody