The white sheets were soaked in blood and blood was on the bedside table and on the soft green carpet on the floor. The air in the room was thick, filled with ferric odour of clotted blood.
In the bed, spread over the stained mattress, a woman was lying head down. She was naked and her body was covered in cuts. Tommy was used to all kinds of brutality or violence but nevertheless even he was stricken by the murder scene.
"Nina Galesco, 27 years old, her address is in Paris, though. We are currently seeking information about her family."
"Somebody slit her throat," Tommy grunted inaudibly.
"The murder weapon, I presume," he added, pointing at a small, bloodied scalpel lying on the carpet.
"We must analyse before any statement, but it appears so," Hickman said.
"Who found her?" Eva asked.
"The chambermaid – at eight a.m. in the morning. The receptionist says she saw her come back to the hotel early in the morning, sometime after three. She came with a man and he was not a guest."
"I guess we don't know anything about this man," Tommy said and looked up at Hickman. His boss' face was as impassive as ever and he let that without an answer. The other man standing beside him, inspector Moore of the London Police Department, shook his head.
"Nobody saw him except the receptionist."
"He evidently escaped through the balcony window," Eva noted, walking over the opened window and looking down on the street. The room was on the fourth floor and there was no emergency ladder on the wall. He must have had quite good physical condition to climb it down.
"Do we have any description?" Tommy asked. Moore opened his notebook and cited: "In his thirties, dark blond hair, tall, average weight. According to the receptionist he was handsome."
Moore said the last word with an obvious attempt to reproduce the receptionist's tone.
"So we can eliminate those ugly," Tommy muttered.
"Nina asked the receptionist to say – in case someone would be asking for her – she was not there. He and Nina appeared friendly – joking, laughing…"
"Yeah, until he cut her throat," Tommy said. He looked over the room again and approached the bed with the dead woman. Albeit her face was covered in blood, he could see she had been very attractive. He used to feel horrified when witnessing such massacre but somehow he had been getting more used to it. It all seemed clear – another Lover's work, a serial killer they had been chasing for more than a year. Tommy had to admit the nickname was not very creative but it served the purpose. A young, attractive woman, murdered in a hotel room by a man she had met and taken in. The cause of death – bleeding out from a deep neck wound. Special characteristics – body spread, lying on the stomach, naked. And one more thing…
Tommy looked up at Hickman, his boss returning the look with his eyes hard.
"Did he…?"
"Yes," Hickman said and Tommy nodded once. So he cut her tongue out. It all seemed so typical and yet… Tommy could not say exactly what it was he found odd this time. Perhaps the fact they had all been on holiday in London and the killer decided to murder someone there as well? Could have been a coincidence, though.
"And the number?"
"We've looked, there's nothing there," Hickman said and Tommy frowned. That was weird. Lover would carve a number on the left palm of his victims. They had not known yet what the number could mean, they varied from hundreds to one or two and they certainly hoped it was not the number of his victims.
"Maybe somebody disturbed him," Eva suggested and Tommy shook his head.
"It seems he had plenty of time to do that, they say she's dead at least six hours and the chambermaid found her an hour ago. Wait a minute…"
He noticed something under the bed and bowed, narrowing his eyes.
"There's something there… Like a card…"
Moore studied it closely.
"It's most probably a club card. There are some clubs that use it. It's like a ticket."
One of the policemen took a few close-ups.
"Angel… We'll try to find out which club it is. It shouldn't take long."
"There's yesterday date on the card," Eva said.
"Someone should remember her," Tommy said, hoping someone in the club noticed the man accompanying her as well.
"The receptionist also said there was a young girl around midnight, asking for Nina. She left after she'd found out Nina was gone and did not return."
"And her description?"
Moore looked down to his notebook again.
"About twenty, brunette, shoulder-length hair, slim. Rather short. Wearing jeans and black leather jacket. She didn't give any name."
Tommy slowly nodded.
"I think Sebastian should see this," he said. "Why isn't he here?"
"We couldn't reach him," Hickman said and Tommy pulled out his phone, calling Sebastian's number. He froze where he stood at the moment. In an answer to his call, a phone melody could be heard in the room. Tommy widened his eyes and Hickman met his look.
"I think," Hickman said quietly, "we know who the man accompanying her was."
Lena was sitting in the car with lights turned off. She was motionless, her left hand lying on a small handgun placed on her thigh. She had obtained the gun only a few days ago, she could still remember the terrible fear she had felt when facing the dealer.
"What could a girl like you need a gun for?" he said, his tone mocking.
But it was a deal. Albeit Lena was not sure she would even be able to use it if she had to.
She gritted her teeth, clenching her hands into fists.
Why? Why did you have to leave? You are the older one, you should have known better…
Lena took a breath and narrowed her eyes, not moving them away from the hotel, her trembling fingers once again on the gun. The pavement she was parking at was close enough for her to see every guest coming in or out the building. All young, mostly drunk people, enjoying themselves. All of them just like Nina…
Twice she saw a bigger group of people but she did not have a clear view at everyone. She had to go to the reception but they told her Nina was not there.
Once she saw a young pair and the woman was looking similar but she was not Nina either.
But she was supposed to be there… If she were somewhere else, Lena was wasting her time. She would be useless.
No, it was this hotel, she knew it!
Lena's heart was beating fast. She rubbed her eyes, glancing at the time on the car radio: 04:55.
The morning was upon her and she saw nothing.
"Damn it!"
Grabbing the door handle Lana started getting up, decided to go ask for her again, when she froze, her eyes staring at one of the hotel windows. Her mouth opened slowly and she felt her pulse rushing. Someone was climbing down the wall, over the balconies.
Her heart raced. It was a man…? Her shaky, sweating fingers automatically wrapped around the gun. She slipped out of the car and ran silently towards the hotel. She could not think clearly, doing all she could to silence the reason and worry, screaming at her from her head.
Brave… Be brave…
Her soft soles made no sound on the concrete and she crossed the parking lot and hid behind a bush, clutching the gun in her hand. She was breathing heavily. Sweat drops were trickling down her forehead and neck. The dull sound announced the man landed on the pavement. Lena peeked through the branches. He got up and quickly looked around, hurrying right to the bush she was hiding in.
Ignoring the panicky spasm, she closed her eyes for a second, feeling the cold metal in her hands.
"Don't move."
She could not even recognize her own voice. It was quiet like the growling of a big cat. The man stopped when the gun muzzle touched his temple.
"Go."
Lena pointed at the pavement.
"Hurry."
She led him to her car, forcing him to sit on the passenger's seat while she sat down behind the wheel. She did not move the gun away from him but she looked into his face, still doing her best to fight the fear building up in her chest. He seemed distraught, she could see it in his eyes, but there was a darker tone in them, it reminded her of an animal in danger.
What have you done, Lena?
A voice at the back of her head screamed. She gulped and lowered her look.
Was that… blood…
She gasped silently.
"You –"
The short moment of inattention was enough. The man moved forward in a split second, before she could even blink, grabbing the gun and tearing it from her hand, turning it over. Lena's eyes widened slightly when she was looking into the black muzzle of her own gun.
"Who are you?" the man asked, his voice was rough and cold.
Lena lifted her eyes to him.
"You killed her," she whispered, feeling her heart twisting in ache. So she was late after all…
"You killed her…" she repeated louder. "You bastard, you murdered her!"
She grunted, throwing herself at him, trying to hit him, hurt him in any way she could. But he was stronger and caught her arm, twisting it painfully and Lena yelped. She breathed in deeply, ready to scream.
"Help –"
He put a hand over her mouth and silenced her. Lena wanted to bite him but he shook her.
"Stop it," he ordered. "And drive away. Now."
The gun muzzle was still pointed at her. Lena turned the key in the ignition and drove along the pavement, although she could not see through the tears filling her eyes. In the distance she could hear someone crying and gasping for air.
He forced her to drive on a remote backyard and told her to turn off the engine. Lena closed her eyes and hid her face in the hands. So she was going to die, like Nina. By the same hands…
"I didn't kill her."
Lena shot him a quick look. The gun was resting on his knee.
"I didn't kill her," he repeated. Lena shook her head, her eyes roving over him, looking for any sign of lies.
"You have her blood on your hands," she said, her voice trembling.
He moved closer to her and Lena backed off, hitting the door with her back.
"I didn't kill her," he said and his voice was urgent, almost desperate.
"I woke up and she was lying there dead. But I didn't do it, I didn't even know her!"
He withdrew and hit the dashboard with his fist, making Lena jump up. He ran a hand over his face then, rubbing his eyes and breathing heavily. But all Lena could see was the blood on his hands. Her sister's blood, Nina's blood.
My sister…
Lena took a picture out of her pocket, shoving it into his face.
"This is the woman you murdered," she growled, the photo shaking in her fingers.
"Look!"
She had always liked the picture. It was taken on a weekend trip to Italy, right in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Such a classic shot.
"Everybody should have a picture of them in front of the Leaning Tower," Nina said, laughing as she explained to the tourist taking the shot.
The trip was her present for Lena's twentieth birthday. It was the best birthday she had ever had.
The man stared at the picture intently, his eyebrows furrowed. Lena felt the wave of anger and hate washing over her again. She would put a bullet through his brain, even if that was the last thing she would do. She moved forward, taking the gun from his hand.
He deflected her hand. She wanted to hit his face. He pinned her against the seat, his fingers wrapped firmly around her wrist.
"I have never seen her," he said with eyes only an inch away from her face. She could see her own frightened face in the blue orbs.
"What?" she managed to say.
"I haven't seen her," he said quietly. "That's not the woman I met in the club."
Notes:
Another one, hope you like and drop a comment please, so I know what you think :)
OK, that was the first one, hope you like and please comment. Thanks!