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Table of Contents
CRAVED BY THEM by Lily Harlem
THE CORRUPTION OF SISTER MARY IMMACULATE by Katie Douglas
THE LONG NIGHT by Lucy Felthouse
EXORCISE ME by Felicity Brandon
Craved By Them
By Lily Harlem
Chapter One
Detective Inspector Corey Tatum nodded at the tall uniformed sergeant lifting the cordon tape. She ducked under it, entering the scene, then glanced over her shoulder.
Damn, that officer was handsome, why had she never seen him around before? Silly thought. Scotland Yard was huge, London huger. She couldn’t recognize all of the lower-ranking policemen who worked there. Though this one was particularly memorable and wore his dark uniform with more style and grace than most.
“Ma’am.” Another officer, pale-skinned, rod-straight nose, and chiselled jawline, handed her a crime scene log to sign.
“Thanks.” She took it. What was going on today? He was beautiful, too—his eyes an unusual amber with dark-brown streaks stretching from his pupils and his teeth white and perfectly straight.
She handed the pen back, sucked in a deep breath laced with his delicious peppery aftershave, then turned to the victim.
This wasn’t the time and place for her to be thinking about men. Though it went to show how long her love-drought had gone on for if she could admire while someone lay in shreds beneath a shrub in Hyde Park.
Henry Fallon, her superintendent, nodded at her. “It’s another one.”
She frowned. “Identified yet?”
“Yes, Mike Jones, thirty-eight from West Hampstead. Accountant.”
Corey squatted, elbows on her knees, and studied what was left of Mike Jones’s face.
Like the body of Jimmy Boden found three days previously behind a city center restaurant, Mike Jones’s features appeared to have been clawed, almost scratched off. His nose hung from a thread, his eyeballs gouged and his mouth a slashed wreck.
“Scenes of crime is on the way,” Henry said. “Shouldn’t be more than another ten minutes.”
“You got here quick, sir.”
“Yes, I was…in the area.”
“The park? Not your usual beat.” She half huffed, half chuckled. Henry hadn’t walked a beat for years. But then again, neither had she. She’d dedicated her career to the force, and now in her early forties, she couldn’t imagine any other job. Keeping the streets of London safe was her calling.
And boy, she’d seen everything in her time.
But not this. This was weird.
Again she frowned. “His clothes, they’re…shredded, for want of a better word. It looks like someone’s used a knife on them, frantically.” She pointed at his abdomen. “And gone right through the skin to his intestines.”
“Something like a knife,” Henry said.
“You think it’s something else?”
He didn’t reply.
“Reminds me of Freddy Krueger,” Corey said, “if you know what I mean. Hands with knives for fingers. Claws.”
“Claws,” Henry repeated.
She stood and faced him. He was short, she was tall; they were eyelevel. “You think an animal with claws did this?”
Before he could answer, the handsome uniformed officer with the scene log stepped up. “SOCO is here, sir.”
“Ah, good, thank you, Sergeant Hunt.” Henry looked past her. “We should go back to the station and let them get on with their forensic wizardry.”
“Mmm.” Corey stared at the victim again. His blood, pooled around him, had darkened on the grass. His left leg was at an unnatural angle, as though it had been broken in the attack. “What do you think, Sergeant?” she asked Hunt.
“Vicious. Whatever did this needs catching, fast.”
“Whatever?” She was confused. “Not whoever?”
His smooth jaw tightened, a small muscle flexing near the angle. “Only a monster would kill this way, without meaning, without provocation.”
“How do you know Mike Jones didn’t provoke his attacker?”
He kind of shrugged then touched the peak of his dark cap. “Just a hunch.”
“I’m a fan of hunches,” she said. “Gut feelings are there for a reason, and I can’t be accused of not following mine over the years.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
His words surprised her. She was a senior rank to him, but it sounded like he presumed himself to be more experienced, more worldly wise. Yet he appeared mid-thirties.
“Detective Inspector,” Henry called.
“Coming.” She checked out the officer’s badge—Cooper Hunt. “Keep the scene secure.”
“I intend to.” He held eye contact, again.
Something flashed in their tawny depths. Was it attraction? Was it respect for her rank? Corey wasn’t sure, but she liked the way he looked at her, it gave her a warm feeling inside. And she’d like to look at him some more, too. He was very easy on the eye. Yes. She’d remember the name Cooper Hunt, and perhaps have a quick search on the database and see where he was stationed. Wouldn’t do any harm to run into him again.
Once again, the other tall officer lifted the cordon tape for her.
“Thanks,” she said. Wow, he had the same color eyes as Cooper Hunt. An unusual orangey-brown. What were the chances of that?
“Have a nice day, ma’am.”
“You too.” Was that an American twang in his accent? If it was, it was barely there; he’d obviously been in the UK for a long time. She liked it, though, it suited him somehow. Elijah Benham. That had been the name on his badge. Didn’t really give away his origin.
Back at Scotland Yard, Corey headed straight to her office with the intention of studying the forensic report from the first ‘shredded’ victim, Jimmy Boden. Poor bugger. The report was due back any minute, and she was hoping there’d be something that would give her team a lead.
But as soon as she sat at her desk, her phone rang. She answered it.
“Detective Inspector, I need you up in my office, now.”
“Yes, sir.” She put the phone down. Henry must have raced across the city and got straight to the forensic report. This was excellent news. Perhaps he’d found something concrete. They had to stop this killer—one brutal murder was horrific, two doubly sickening.
Climbing the flight of stairs to his top-floor office, she couldn’t help thinking it unusual that Henry, being a superintendent, was getting as involved as he was in a case. And to be at a scene himself, that was practically unheard of.
Had he really just been passing the park?
She knocked on the heavy oak door.
“Come in.”
She pressed down on the brass handle and stepped inside. For a moment she hesitated—Henry wasn’t alone as she’d expected—then she closed the door with a click.
He sat behind his wide desk, hands steepled in front of his stern face. A mug of tea steamed at his side.
Beside the window, vertical blinds half drawn to block out most of the day, stood four uniformed officers. Two of whom she recognized.
Sergeant Cooper Hunt and Sergeant Elijah Benham.