Death Takes Wing
“When Amalia got to work that afternoon, she found an e-mail waiting for her. More than one, actually, but only one actually piqued her interest immediately.
She brushed the hair out of her eyes as she read the e-mail he'd sent. A short message, briefing her about the case he’d been assigned. She sighed as she scanned the message. With a grim determination, she read the seven names. Samantha O’Mara. Genevieve Walters. Paul Danzer. Kent Stoke. Patricia Hemly. Peg Smyth. Francesca Riley. Th...e only one she recognized was Sam. She sighed.
There wasn’t much to go on. Genevieve was twenty-seven. Paul was thirty-nine. Kent was nineteen. Patricia and Peg were both thirty-one. Francesca was twenty-three. And Sam, she thought to herself. Sam was only twenty-four. So what connected them? She kept rolling that thought around her brain as she read and reread the names and ages. She mutely added Vince’s name to the list. She just knew that he was connected to this, just as certainly as Gabriel knew. His death couldn’t be coincidental, wasn’t unrelated, according to Gabriel. Her thoughts flashed back to the pale, bloated face. The solan’s eyes gone, strings of rotting flesh on his bloated abdomen. The smell. Amalia shook her head, trying to shake the memory out of her head. She had a feeling in her gut, she thought to herself, and her gut wasn’t often wrong.MoreLess
She brushed the hair out of her eyes as she read the e-mail he'd sent. A short message, briefing her about the case he’d been assigned. She sighed as she scanned the message. With a grim determination, she read the seven names. Samantha O’Mara. Genevieve Walters. Paul Danzer. Kent Stoke. Patricia Hemly. Peg Smyth. Francesca Riley. Th...e only one she recognized was Sam. She sighed.
There wasn’t much to go on. Genevieve was twenty-seven. Paul was thirty-nine. Kent was nineteen. Patricia and Peg were both thirty-one. Francesca was twenty-three. And Sam, she thought to herself. Sam was only twenty-four. So what connected them? She kept rolling that thought around her brain as she read and reread the names and ages. She mutely added Vince’s name to the list. She just knew that he was connected to this, just as certainly as Gabriel knew. His death couldn’t be coincidental, wasn’t unrelated, according to Gabriel. Her thoughts flashed back to the pale, bloated face. The solan’s eyes gone, strings of rotting flesh on his bloated abdomen. The smell. Amalia shook her head, trying to shake the memory out of her head. She had a feeling in her gut, she thought to herself, and her gut wasn’t often wrong.MoreLess
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