Читать книгу Mourn The Living - Henry Perez - Страница 2

GRIM DISCOVERY

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Chapa forced the door open as wide as it would go. An instant later, the sun reached inside the structure again, just enough to reveal a pair of legs sprawled across the dirty concrete floor.

The victim was sitting up, but in an unnatural way, folded not at the waist, but higher up, around his rib cage. Chapa rushed inside. He squatted next to the body, grabbed the man’s stiff shoulders and gently shook him.

The man’s head swung from side to side like a broken toy.

Then Chapa saw the blood, caked on the white starched collar, coloring his shirt. Chapa recoiled when he spotted the gash across the victim’s neck, so long and wide it looked like a grisly smile.

The blood appeared slick, which meant it was still fresh. Though Chapa figured the man’s heart had stopped pumping it ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago, tops. It was an educated guess, based on years of reading coroners’ reports and attending more autopsies than he wanted to remember.

The dead man could just as easily have been killed ten minutes after Chapa spoke with him, or ten minutes ago. And that’s when Chapa felt a cold chill surge through his body and into his mind.

The killer might still be in here.

Mourn The Living

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