“What do you got on our angel?”
He’d taken to calling her that out loud. To himself she was his angel. Eight days in and she was haunting his dreams as he expected. She’d become less a dead puppet on a string and more of an ethereal being, an avenging angel demanding blood.
His partner flipped through the file and then tossed him the report sheet.
“Rape kit came back. There was semen in her body, but not enough to make an ID in the system.”
The image of her being assaulted rose up faster than he could swat it away. He’d have nightmares about her desperate screams. It took a few blinks to clear the scene from his brain.
He leaned back, rubbing his face to bring back some of his concentration.
“What about the trash around her body?”
“Most of it was trash.” He grunted at that bit of news. “Except the cigarette they found fifty yards from her body.”
That perked him up. “Go ahead.”
“After an examination of saliva on the filter, the lab determined it matched the semen DNA.”
Over his partner’s shoulder, he could see her hovering. She was a faint apparition, a smile on her ghostly face. Fuck, he hated when they did this to him. Hopefully, once he found her killer, the visions would stop.
“Alright, let’s see if we can find him with what we got.”
They were closing in on this son of a bitch. Everyone would have their answers soon enough.
Who would kill an angel?
