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This is a sneak preview of Blood Love, the erotic horror novel that I am presently working on. I decided to post chapter 4 because this is the chapter where the serial killer (Brian) is caught by his girlfriend (Beatriz), but he manages to talk his way out of it, convincing her he is working for the county...it's also the chapter my friends enjoyed reading the most...so far.





Chapter four







His eyes fluttered open, his lips parched and his mouth sore, Greg’s eyes swiftly traveled around the room. He was lying in a pit, a cold cement pit and his wrists and ankles were bound with duct tape.

Staring off to the right, he gazed at the monotonous pattern of grey, green and gold striped wallpaper that heaved in muted streamers up and down the wall.

He could not recall where he was, or why he was here.

Feeling dizzy and somewhat nauseous, he clamped his eyes tightly and forced himself to recall the series of events that lead him to this strange house.

He was driving through the rain, his windshield was constantly fogging up, forcing him to leave the defrost on high as he fought his way through the jagged downpour.

He remembered seeing someone standing on the side of the road, standing in the storm waving for help, flasher lights clearly evident of someone in need of assistance, a flat tire perhaps, or maybe a battery jump?

He pulled over, rolled down the window and then climbed out of the car.

What did that man say, something about his radiator overheating?

Everything went black after that, as if the rest had been magically erased from his subconscious.

Slowly he turned his head to the left, the white walls of this pit squeezing him in. He realized that this pit was actually a bathtub.

Struggling against his restraints, he tried to force himself upright, but he couldn’t move in this awkward state.

“Hello?” he called out, sweat pearling under his moustache. “Is anybody out there?”

The sound of a door creaking open brought chills to the nape of his neck.

“Who’s there?” he cried, unable to see anything but the shifting of shadows across the ceiling.

“Hello.” A voice blurted, followed by the sudden shade of a black silhouette standing over him. “Are you comfortable?”

Greg squint his eyes as the man slowly came into focus from a shadowy haze that materialized into the clear form of the man that he recalled being stranded in the rain storm.

“You,” he breathed, wrinkling his nose. “Where am I?”

Brian towered over him, seeing his helplessness, drinking in the fear and anxiety he could see building in his eyes and the beads of sweat that formed along his upper lip and brow.

Stooping down, so that he now sat on his haunches, he lifted a hunting knife and ran the tip along the man’s nose and lips, taunting him.

“What do you want?” he demanded, swallowing hard. “Look, my wallet is in the back pocket of my pants. You can have it, take it all. I got fifty in cash and a bank card, just take it.”

Brian’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you think it’s that easy don’t you? I just take your measly cash, untie you and let you go, as simple as that?”

Greg squirmed against his bondage, but the tape held his hands so tightly together, he was beginning to feel a slight numbness set into his extremities.

“Just tell me what you want.” He growled, glaring back at his captor. “If it’s not money, then what the hell do you want?”

“Are you scared, Greg?” Brian asked his expression cynical as he stared down at the struggling man. “Do want to go free? Do you?”

“Let me out of here!”

“Beg me, Greg.”

“You’re a bastard!”

Brian stood up, towering over the man like a God staring down from the heavens. “That’s not very convincing, you sound more pissed than afraid, Greg.”

Greg grit his teeth, his breath coming in uneven puffs as he rolled in the tub, kicking his legs in an attempt to sit upright.

Frowning, Brian grasped him by the hair on the top of his head and yanked him into a sitting position. “There, you’re sitting up, happy now?” he groused.

Spinning his head in all directions, Greg quickly took in his surroundings.

The room was nothing anymore mundane than a normal everyday run of the mill bathroom.

A small square room, the bathtub against one wall, a toilet, an oak sink pedestal with a mirrored medicine cabinet poised above, nothing but a bathroom.

“What in the hell is this?” he muttered.

“You’re not begging.” Brian reminded him, crossing his arms and impatiently tapping his toes on the floor.

He turned to his assailant, boldly daring him with his eyes. “You’re right, I’m not begging.”

Brian sneered at the man, hating it when he came across assholes that didn’t know enough to see that their lives hung in the balance unless they pleaded for mercy. Where was the fear? Could he not see how serious the situation was?

“I’m going to give you one last chance,” he said, slowly pacing the floor. “Beg me, beg me to save your life and you might just get it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I suppose if your life means that little to you, then I’ll have to snuff it out, won’t I?”

Greg stared unbelievably. What would be the use in begging? This stranger would not have went through all this trouble to kidnap him, tie him with duct tape and hold him in a bathtub if he meant to tease him a little and then unbound him and let him go. No, it was just a winch for this man’s sick behavior.

“Forget it.” He huffed, looking away.

Shaking with anger over this man’s stubborn refusal to obey, Brian reached for the knife on the toilet tank and plunged it deep into the side of the man’s throat, pulled it out and thrust it in again.

His flesh was rough, it took a little over an ounce of strength to push it through, but it went in nicely.

Greg cried out, bit his lip and then gasped a low gurgling erupting from his mouth as his neck toppled forward.

“You should have begged, Greg.” Brian murmured, grasping a handful of hair and snapping his neck back.

With the knife in hand, he began sawing away at the man’s throat. He didn’t cry any further, only a few lingering clouds of oxygen blew from his lips, the flesh making a soft crinkling sound as he sliced.

The blood spilled from his throat and all over Brian’s hands like warm molasses. Brian panted as he worked, stumbling backwards as he held the man’s head in his hand, freeing it from the quivering and twitching body.

Holding it high, he admired it, the grotesque trophy that it now was.

He felt the need to continue. The stirring he felt in his groin pained him, this urge to feel the blood all over him, his face, his body, it was growing in him like wildfire.

With boldness, he laid the head in the man’s lap and then began cutting his bonds. Once the tape fell free, he lifted an arm and began sawing at the wrist.

More sawing and cutting found another arm on the floor and his heart in the sink, blood pooling in an endless drizzle beneath his feet.

Swallowed up in passion, he fought to control the irony of lust and ecstasy that wrapped around his being, seizing him and pulling him until he felt as though he may climax at any given moment.

A sudden knock on his door quickly yanked him from his trance and violently shook him back into reality.

Dropping the knife into the bathtub with the dismembered body, Brian snatched up a towel from the sink and rubbed some of the blood from his face.

The knock echoed again, someone was here!

Swallowing hard, he inched his way from the bathroom and into the hall, eyeing his front door, thankful that it was sealed with a deadbolt.

“Who is it?” he stammered, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“It’s me, Beatriz. We were supposed to have dinner tonight, remember? You said you were cooking for me.”

Panic rose up within him as he stumbled to the door. “Hold on, let me throw something on.”

“Ok.”

Racing across the floor, he slammed the bathroom door shut and then flew to the back of the kitchen where he had a small laundry room opposite his basement.

Yanking himself out of his crimson soaked clothing, he threw them into the washer and then flipped on the spigot to the cold water valve and began spraying himself off.

The rush of freezing irrigate pouring over his naked body awoke him anew.

With barely enough time to run a towel over his wet body, he yanked on pair of pajama bottoms and jerked a white tee-shirt over his head, breathless with his effort.

Going to the door, he drew in a deep breath, unlocked it and then opened it with a forced smile.

Beatriz arched an eyebrow. “Brian, you look as if you just stepped out of the shower or something?” she said, stepping inside as he closed the door behind her.

“Uh…I did actually.” He said, raking his hand through his damp hair. “That’s why I had to throw something on.”

“Oh, I see.” She nodded, tossing her purse in a nearby chair. “You have a nice place here. Chris just dropped me off, he didn’t have time to stop in and say hello, but he…”

She stopped in mid-sentence and gawked at him with furrowed brows.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“Why?” he asked, hoping that she could not hear the pounding of his heart as he fought to keep himself in check.

“You have a bit of blood on your forehead.” She pointed.

Lifting his hand to his face, he flicked off a smear of clotted blood, grimacing. “I must have bumped my head when I fell out of the shower.”

“Let me take a look at it.” She offered, going to him, but he swiftly backed away.

“Don’t trouble yourself, I’m sure it’s fine.” He said.

“It’s no trouble.” She insisted, grasping his arm and pulling him so that he was forced to stoop over. “You can never be too sure with a head injury.”

Beatriz touched his forehead, running her fingers nimbly through his scalp, but she could not see any wounds. There was no explanation to where the blood had come from.

“I don’t see anything.”

“See?” he piped, standing upright so that his face was out of her reach. “I told you it was nothing.”

“But the blood?”

“It must have healed already.” He breathed.

“One does not heal that quickly.” She muttered, bewildered.

“I’m a little late at starting dinner.” He said, purposely averting her attention. “Let’s head for the kitchen and see what I have in my pantry.”

Brian went into the kitchen, swinging open the doors to his pantry and peering inside.

He had plenty of Italian pastas to choose from.

Glimpsing up, he opened his mouth to question her on what she would like when he noticed that she was not with him.

“Beatriz?” he called.

“I’m going to the bathroom, I have to tinkle.” He heard her shout from the living room.

“Oh.”

Plucking a box of shells and Romano cheese from the cupboard, he turned it over in his hand to read the back when he heard a blood-curdling scream emerge from his bathroom.

“The body,” he whispered, dropping the box of pasta to the floor. “Oh, shit.”

Flying out of the kitchen, he staggered to the bathroom threshold, seeing Beatriz standing there with wide eyes, her face ashen as she pointed to the mutilated body lying in the bathtub.

“Oh holy shit fire!” she cried, paling. “You’ve got a cut up body in here!”

“Uh, where?” he feigned ignorance.

“There, in the bathtub, God damn it!” she screamed, shaking. “What in the hell is this?”

“Oh, it’s a body from the coroner’s office.” He quickly thought up an excuse.

“What?”

“It’s from the coroner’s office.”

“Are you serious? What in the hell is it doing here?”

“You know Milton Edwards, the county coroner, right?” Brian stammered unnaturally fast. “Well, they’re so swamped that I was forced to volunteer with the autopsies.”

“What?”

“I volunteer with the autopsies when they are over run with work.”

“Are you even qualified to do this?” she asked, shuddering when she glimpsed at the body lying in pieces, the tub filled with bloody soak.

“I’m certified in first aid.”

Beatriz gasped, her copper curls falling from her shoulders when she covered her mouth with the back of one hand. “I would hardly think that qualifies you to perform autopsies, Brian.” She argued and then sweeping her hand the length of the tub, she asked. “Why in the hell are you doing an autopsy here in your own bathroom?”

“Uh…the coroner didn’t have the ready funds to rent another medical clinic and…”

“What?” she cried in a shrill pitch, staring back at him incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”

“They thought they could save the county money by allowing me to do the autopsies here at home.” He explained, though he knew that she would never believe such a lame defense as this. “No rent, thus no taxes for the people.”

“Oh my God.” She breathed, rubbing her temples with her forefingers. “Oh, God in Heaven have mercy.”

“What?”

Beatriz looked up at him with scalding eyes. “Why in the hell would you agree with this just to save the county coroner’s office a few bucks?”

“I don’t know?” Was all he could say.

Beatriz paced the small confines and then folding her arms across her chest, she sighed helplessly. “What should I say?”

Brian stood in silence. He stared down at Greg, the blood caked along the walls of the tub, and the putrid smell of death hanging thick in the air.

He looked up at Beatriz, her green eyes pleading into his. He felt a strange tingling feeling in his loins.

“You could help me.”

“I could what?” she gasped, frowning.

“You could help me cut him up, I mean check him for pathological clues.”

She frantically shook her head. “I’m a nurse, I’m not a doctor.”

“I’m not a doctor.” He reminded her.

“I don’t think so.”

“I could pay you for your time, sweetie.”

“I thought you said you volunteered your services?”

“I do, but I can get them to pay you. You could use that money to help Christopher pay his bills, get him some more school supplies, maybe take him and his girlfriend out to eat somewhere nice?” he said, purposely playing on her concerns about getting her son through college. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. If the county can afford to pay me, then why can’t they rent another medical facility?” she hesitated, though she couldn’t help but wonder about the money.

If she could bring in another paycheck on top of her own, she could help Chris and Casey get through their last year at San Cameron University, get a few of their apartment bills, such as the heat and electricity off their backs.

“Do you do this often?” she asked, recoiling at the sight of the severed head, his eyes, though locked in a death stare, seemed to bore a hole right through her.

“Yes, I do.” He said, already feeling the height of sexual tension rising within him.

Going to the side of the bathtub, Beatriz drew in a deep breath to steady herself.

“What did he die from?”

“He was in a train wreck.” He lied, slinking up behind her and snaking his arms around her waist from behind.

“Then why the autopsy?” she questioned, resting the back of her head against his chest. “Obviously the train wreck was what killed him.”

“You never know, he may have had a massive coronary two seconds before the train crashed.”

“Why would you have to autopsy a man for that? That doesn’t sound like foul play?”

“Uh, that’s a good question.” He stalled and then blurted. “But, if the engineer was high or drunk, God forbid, his reckless behavior could have been what sent this train into a tizzy, thus scaring the man into a massive heart attack.”

“Oh.” She murmured, wrinkling her nose. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Come, my darling.” He smiled, grasping up a clean knife from the floor and handing it to her. “Let me show you what to do.”

“Ok,” she nodded, dropping to her knees beside the bathtub with him.

“Do this,” he instructed, lifting the left arm of the man and running the tip of a knife along the extremity, the blood trickling as he made a slit from the wrist to the armpit.

“What are you doing that for?” she asked, still uneasy with.

“I’m checking for…blood clots or something.” He hurriedly explained, pushing his eyeglasses back up the bridge of his nose from where they had slid down.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to give the engineer a drug test?”

Brian lifted the head from the man’s lap and thrust it in front of Beatriz. “Here, take the knife and gouge his eyes out.”

She instantly recoiled. “Why do I need to that?”

“Check him for…glaucoma.”

“For an autopsy, are you certain this is legal?”

“It’s legal, if not, then why would they send the coroner’s work here for me to do?”

“Do it, dear.” He encouraged, holding the head up, face first. “Pierce his eyes with the knife.”

Beatriz lifted the knife, aiming it at the dead man’s face, but still she hesitated. “How will I know if he has glaucoma? What do I look for?”

”Gouge them out and then I will show.”

Steeling herself, she drew in a deep breath and plucked the knife into one eye and then carefully she pulled the knife out.

The jagged edge of the hunting knife caught on the tender flesh of the man’s eyeball, causing it to pull it of the orbit with the blade.

Seeing the eye flesh hanging in strings at the end of her knife made Beatriz’s stomach clench. She waved the knife at Brian.

“Here, can you seeing anything unusual?” she breathed.

Brian grasped her wrist with one hand to still her trembling, and then plucked the eye from the knife with his other hand.

Holding it in the palm of his hand, he examined it and then tossed it back into the bathtub.

“No, his eyesight was fine.”

“Shouldn’t we be wearing gloves?”

“The county doesn’t have the ready funds for gloves that are going to be thrown away in the end.” He replied, reaching into the tub and yanking the man’s body upward, thrusting his knife into the chest cavity and cutting downward.

“What are you doing now?” she asked, creeping closer and looking over his arm as he continued to saw.

“I’m counting his ribs.”

“Why?”

“To see how many there are, he may have had an abnormality that was not aware of.”

“He doesn’t have a heart.” She gasped, pointing to the empty chest cavity as Brian pried open the rest of his torso.

“He had a heart, it’s lying in the sink up there.” He motioned to the pedestal with a swing of his head.

Craning her neck, Beatriz winced when she saw a human heart lying motionless in the sink, blood pooling in small puddles around it.

“Stand aside, my dear.” He said, yanking the man from the bathtub and hanging his body over the rim, plunging the knife in his back and sawing in an attempt to cut the torso in half.

The blood raced from the headless body, spilling in dark pools along the floor.

Beatriz backed away.

The floor was covered in a blanket of slimy blood and Beatriz lost her footing and fell down on her buttocks.

Sitting on the floor, she turned her palms upright, her hands doused in clotted blood, her fingers matting together in the stickiness.

She tried to get up, but the slick floor brought her back down, blood clinging to her dress, her face and her hair. She wrinkled her nose as she struggled to sit up on her knees.

“Oh, Brian, look at me.” She whined, holding up her hands. “I’ve got this man’s blood all over everything. Lord, what a mess.”

Brian dropped the rest of Greg’s body in the tub and looked at her from over his shoulder.

Suddenly he had the urge to touch her.

He turned to her and softly ran his fingers over the contours of her face and then her lips.

His heart pounded as he thought of moving his hands beneath her dress, to gather her breasts within his trembling fingers.

As his hand moved softly across her features, he smeared blood along her nose, cheeks and lips, causing her to look all the more lovely and innocent to him.

He laughed quietly.

“What’s so funny?” she asked as he ran his fingers up and down her countenance and then the bridge of her nose.

“You should see yourself, you have blood all over your face.” He murmured.

Paling, she tried to stand up and rush to the sink to turn on the water and splash it on her face, but she paused at the heart still lying in there.

“I’m done with this.” She muttered, clutching her throat. “You’ll have to finish this autopsy without me.”

Rising to his full height, Brian tossed the bloodied knife into the crimson filled bathtub and then went to her and drew her up into his arms. “It’s all right, we’re finished here anyway.”

“What did he die from?”

”Uh, the train wreck killed him.”

“That’s what I thought.” She huffed, shaking her head.

Brian chortled, drawing Beatriz’s attention. “What?”

“Your face is still colored red with blood.”

“That’s not funny, it’s disgusting.” She groused, looking away.

“I think you look cute.”

“I’m going to wash up in the kitchen.”

Wobbling on the slick floor, Beatriz reached for the door knob, but not before she lost her footing and slid to her side, blood splattering along the front of her dress, sides and up her legs.

Brian held a hand out for her. “Let me help you up.”

She grasped his hand, but as soon as he tried to yank her to her feet, he lost his balance and fell to the floor with her, blood smudging through his hair and into his clothing.

Beatriz wriggled out from underneath him, her brows furrowed with revulsion as she looked at the mess she was in, blood caked in her hair, her face, her fleece dress, everything.

Brian sat dumbfounded, his glasses askew and his clothing dyed a deathly crimson at their own hands.

He turned and gazed at Beatriz, his pulse racing as he realized that she was even more beautiful when she was covered in a blanket of blood. The luminous glow of her hazel-green eyes, the gentle slope of her jaw and her dimpled cheeks, all coated in the majestic flow of life’s own fluid. The very sight was causing an uncomfortable tightening in his pants.

Slowly he shifted his eyes downward. His breath caught in his throat as he admired her perfectly rounded breasts beneath the blood soaked fabric of her garb.

Gripping the edge of the tub, Beatriz lifted herself to her feet, careful to take small steps until she reached the threshold of the bathroom.

It was humiliating enough to fall down, but now she was draped in blood and fluids she didn’t even want to know about.

As she moved past Brian, her heart accelerated. Her cheeks flamed with color, for she was quite aware of his eyes on her, following her every move.

She took a deep breath and willed herself not to fall down as she slipped sideways; quickly catching herself with the doorframe leading to the kitchen. She so hoped she could get through these next few moments without looking like an utter fool in the eyes of this weird, but handsome man.

Twisting the spigot to the kitchen sink, she ran her fingertips under the water, waiting for it to warm up.

Brian came up behind her and snaked an arm about her waist, his lips brushing feather soft kisses along her slender neckline.

“Be careful or you’ll get blood on your lips.” Beatriz warned him as she plucked a dish towel from the counter and began running it under the stream of hot water.

Blood on my lips from kissing her sweet body? He mused, finding himself more excited by the minute.

Reaching over her, he stilled her hands in the water and turned her around to face him, pulling her into his arms and hugging her tightly. He could feel her breasts crushed up against his lean chest, hear the squishing clamor of the blood as it was squeezed from her clothing because of their rigid embrace.

Beatriz’s cheek rested against Brian’s chest, her body sticky and stiff with the blood that was now drying in her hair, her skin, her mussed clothing.

“Brian, I have to get out of these things.” She said, gently shoving him away.

“No, keep them on.” He insisted, grasping her hands and pulling her down to the kitchen floor.

“Why? Lord, we look awful.” She moaned, following him down to the floor. “I can’t believe I managed to get this all over everything.” Then she craned her neck, recoiling at the bloody handprint that she left on the doorway of his kitchen. “Oh, I ruined your walls and probably your bathroom. I’m so sorry, Brian.”

“Don’t give it another thought.” He shrugged it away. “It can be washed.”

“I’ll wash it, I insist.”

“All right.” He smiled, nudging her knees apart and sliding his body between them.

“I’m not sure we should be down here on the floor engaging in anything right after performing a rather messy autopsy.” Beatriz said, flinching when he cupped her faced within his bloody hands and pressed his lips against hers.

The press of his lips was so warm, soft, yet demanding.

Her senses dazzled, Beatriz closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back onto the floor.

Brian’s hands slid up her dress and began easing her panties down her thighs.

A part of her warned her that this might go farther than it should.

Another part of her told her that she should protest, that the thought of making love while covered with the life’s fluid of one that had such an untimely death was not only immoral, but it was showing that she had absolutely no respect for the dead.

She sat upright and gently shoved at his chest. “We shouldn’t do this.” She whispered. “What about the man in the bathtub?”

“What about him? He can’t see us, he’s dead.” Brian said, knocking her hands away and continuing to yank her panties down. “He couldn’t see if he wanted to, you gouged his eyes out.”

She winced, she had not meant to mutilate his head, but Brian said they must check him for glaucoma.

“But, he’s still in the bathtub.” She argued, feeling guilty for allowing her heart to soar at the feel of his hands on her thighs, for allowing herself to fall under the magic spell that only his skilled fingers, lips and tongue could provide.

She could feel the hunger in the press of his body against hers, and then he lifted himself on an elbow, looking down at her with a new sparkle in his eye.

“I have an idea.” He said, his whole body encased with sensual shivers. “Let’s get that body from the bathtub and bring it here while we make love.”

Beatriz’s eyes quickly flew open and any magic that had begun to weave between the both of them was swiftly broken.

“What did you say?” she asked, scrambling to a sitting position and then backing away.

“Nothing.” He blurted.

Knowing that she heard she what she did, but deciding not to question him further, Beatriz pulled her underwear back up. “I need to get cleaned up.”

Brian crawled to her, running a finger just under her chin and then down the curve of her breast. “Are we finished already?”

“I’m covered in blood.” She replied, tossing her hands in the air helplessly. “This is sickening.”

“I’ll clean you.” He joked, though he couldn’t help but want to quell this nagging ache in his groin.

“I need to take a bath.”

“I’ll lick the blood from your body, darling.”

Beatriz’s head quickly snapped upward, her brows creased curiously. “You’ll do what?”

“I was just kidding.” He said, not wanting his passion to get ahead of him, causing him to reveal too much.

He stood up and grasped Beatriz’s hands, yanking her to her feet.

“We can’t even use your bathtub.” She remarked, recalling the disfigured human laying therein. “But I can’t leave this way.”

“I have a cold water spray in the back, in my laundry room.” He said, placing his hand to her back and motioning to the small room behind the kitchen. “We’ll have to make due with that.”

“What exactly do you do with the bodies once you’re done examining them?” she asked, going into the laundry facilities and then stooping to one side and pulling off her right shoe and then her left.

“Uh, the county will come and pick up the body tomorrow morning.”

Beatriz jimmied out of her blood-matted clothing and then handed them to Brian after he climbed out of his own bloody pajamas and then he neatly tucked them into the washer and turned it on.

Turning on the valve to the cold water spray, they proceeded to clean each other free of any remaining blood and tissue.

After the frosty and invigorating drench, Beatriz ran her fingers through her dampened curls, her body pearled with droplets of ice cold irrigate. Though shivering from the frosty water, she felt almost human again.

Brian handed her a towel and then wrapped one himself around his hips, following Beatriz into the living room.

“I can’t believe I actually did this.” She murmured quietly as Brian seated himself at his writing desk and then wiped his glasses clean with the corner of his towel.

“Do you want me to make the check out to cash or just write your name?” he asked, plucking a leather checkbook from the desk drawer, pen in his right hand.

“What?”

“Your check for helping me,” he explained, refreshing her memory. “How do you want me to write it?”

Kneading her chin, she thought about it for a moment and then looking up, she asked. “Can you make the check out to Chris? I’ll give it to him when he picks me up.”

“Sure.” He said and then scribbled out a few numbers, his signature and then he ripped the paper clean and handed it to Beatriz.

Looking down at the paper in her fingers, she trembled and let out a slight gasp. Brian had written her a check for four hundred dollars!

“Is that amount ok?” he asked, looking at her over the rim of his eyeglasses.

“It’s wonderful, it’s almost too much.” She said, hesitant. “Are you sure it’s ok if I take this?”

“It’s perfectly legal; I wouldn’t want you to have to do this for free.”

Beatriz cocked her head sideways. “But you do it for free.”

“That’s because I volunteered.” He readily explained. “You also have a son to get through school, I don’t.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, folding the check in half and then glancing up at the clock, she paled. “Oh Lord, Chris will be here any minute! My clothes, what do I do?”

“I’ll give you some of mine to borrow.” He chuckled, scooting back from the desk. “But if you will, please don’t say anything about this to Chris, or anyone. I’m not supposed to talk about the autopsies and goings on within the coroner’s office and such, you know.”

“Like the HIPPA laws, right?” she asked, knowing how strict the state was about blabbing private information about patients to the outside world, To do so was a serious violation of their right to privacy.

“Yes, that’s it.”

“When can we do this again?” she asked, thinking that it was not so bad after she saw the kind of money that can be made by helping the county.

“Maybe tomorrow?”

“Huh?” she wrinkled her nose.

“I meant, maybe next week.” He said instead. “Depending on the number of deaths, you know.”

COMMENTS

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shadowfever
01:12 Oct 26 2009

I like chapter 4. Looking forward to more.

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