A Rose Dipped in Blood

Chapter Eleven: Hostage

            Sidney unveiled the grotesque body of Rosemary Dean with a perfectly stable hand. The body had been blasted several times in the chest and only the chest. Her face and other part of his body were untouched, completely unharmed. It was as if Nancy had wanted her victim to look her best, even with chest holes.

            “How many times was she shot?” asked Hawk, casually rubbing the body with the tip of his medical glove covered index finger.

            “We know she was shot six times in the chest with a .22 LR caliber Colt.” Sidney handed him a large plastic bag containing a gun.

            “Where’d you get the gun?” he asked, though the answer was pretty obvious.

            “Nancy’s house, of course. The moment it came in that you had arrested her, that women’s apartment was our main focus. The gun was found stashed in a wall safe.” Sidney walked over to the second body and pulled back the covering to reveal the burnt head of Nancy O’Connor.

            Though it wasn’t much of a head anymore, more of a basketball with dead eyes. Hawk glanced at Isabella and his lip muscles struggled to smile after he saw her face. It was like looking at a woman scream because of a spider.

            “Wasn’t she holding a gun when Hawk arrested her?”

            “Yes, but according to the DNA prints were able to pull from what remains of Ms. O’Connor, we know for a fact that she is actually a Mrs. Gronce. A former second grade teacher who quit six years ago. Records tell that she’s been on drugs, and not the weak kinds, types like heroine, meth, and cocaine, all that stuff ever since.”

            “So basically the best thing we can lead off of right now is Hawk’s theory.” Isabella groaned and started to twirl her smooth chocolate hair around a pointer finger.

            “It’s not a theory,” Alex said, butting into their incessant nonsense of a discussion. “And Sidney, we need to stick with what we don’t know yet. I already knew Rosemary was killed and that this wasn’t Nancy.” He walked over to Rosemary and once again started to prod her bullet torn chest. Next to her arm pit was a large bump that looked recently sewn. “We need a clue on where we can find the real Nancy.” Though they didn’t realize it, a trained assassin was probably running around New York City as freely as a bird.   

            “We have the NYPD and many FBI agents scattered around NY City.”

            “Obviously that’s not enough.” Hawk rubbed the bump again. This time he pressed on it a little and discovered that there was something sewn into the body.

            “What are you-?”

            “Shut up Isabella,” he snapped, focusing on the bump. He brought his ear as close to it as possible without touching it and concentrated fully on what he could hear. No ticking. “Okay, it’s not a bomb.”

            “What isn’t?” asked Sidney and Isabella together with perfect timing. Hawk felt them walk up behind him and then felt their hot breath on the back of his neck. When he turned around, they were on either side of him, their chins almost touching his shoulders.

            “Think you could get any closer? Maybe we can all make out.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but both their faces flushed a deep shade of scarlet and they back away.

            He gently squeezed the bump with his index and thumb to test the flexibility of the item. It bent with his squeeze. He brought his other thumb and index to the field and squeezed the bump on its beginning and end. Then with a fluid and controlled motion he ripped the sewing apart. Pieces of skin soared in the air behind him and he heard two shrieks of horror.