Free A Barrel of Whiskey - (An Urban Fantasy Whiskey Witches Novel) by SM Blooding

file over, “she’d been tortured a lot longer than two days.”
    “Was there any trace evidence picked up?”
    “Yes, but not much. It’s been sent to the lab.”
    Paige picked up her phone and called a number she’d had memorized since before the days of programmed smart phones.
    “Yeah,” a quippy female voice said. “You’ve reached the number to Super Subs, but we’re super slammed. Leave a message after the beep and we’ll call ya right back.”
    “Ethel.”
    “Paige,” the young woman said, her tone filled with surprise. “Holy shit, Batman. You’re back?”
    “Yes. There’s a case. Heather Blackwell. I need you to process that.”
    “Oh, uh. Yeah. Hello to you, too. But sure. Why? More of the super weird shit?”
    “Possibly.”
    “What am I looking for?”
    “Anything out of the ordinary.”
    “Okay. Hey, how long you been back?”
    “Hours.”
    “Oh. Okay. Then, I won’t jump your shit. Unless you weren’t planning on calling until something came up.”
    Paige hadn’t thought about calling anyone yet. “Was going to give you call later today. Haven’t settled yet.”
    “Stayin’ with Alma?”
    “Yup.”
    “Swing by for dinner?”
    “I’ll let her know.”
    “I’ll bring apples.”
    “She’ll make pie.”
    “This case. What’s special about it? You sound wrecked.”
    She was. “Best friend.”
    “Oh, shit. Your kind of special? You’re sure?”
    “Pretty sure. She had a baby two days ago, but Holmes said she was tortured for days.”
    “Oh. Yeah. Your kind of shit for sure. Okay. I’ll check for sulfur.”
    “Thanks.”
    “No problem. Call ya later if I have results. If not, see you at seven.”
    “Yup.” Paige pulled the phone away from her ear as the visual on her phone blinked off.
    “Who was that?” Gomez asked.
    “Ethel. She’s a lab tech.” Paige’s head pounded. “She’s going to work on the evidence from Heather’s case.”
    “What do you want to do?”
    Paige scanned the report, but there wasn’t a lot there. “Let’s canvas the scene.” Which she couldn’t do because she was so close to the case. But…she was the only witch and she couldn’t call on Leslie. Or Alma.
    “You think you’ll be able to spot something the cops didn’t?” Wrick asked, standing and pulling his suit jacket on. It didn’t make him look any more professional.
    “Witch.” Paige headed for the door.
    “Shifter,” Dexx offered, following close on her heels.
    “Hey,” King called. “Are we all coming?”
    “Don’t see why not.” Paige didn’t know what she was doing. She’d never headed a team. She’d been lead investigator before, but that was not this .
    The drive through Dallas didn’t take a lot of time. They were in Heather’s residential neighborhood in no time. She’d had to look up the address in the file. She sucked as a best friend. What kind of best friend didn’t even know where her bestie lived?
    Heather’s apartment was on the third floor in the middle of an immense apartment complex. The place was a maze. Paige led the way up the concrete stairs to the door that was taped off.
    Gomez moved to the front and opened the door with the key. “Came with the case.”
    Paige hadn’t even thought about that. She switched into witch vision, scanning the door for anything her normal eyes could not see. A few smudges like smoke, but nothing definitive.
    “If you go into the shifter vision,” Dexx muttered on his way past her, “give me the heads up.”
    “I won’t make eye contact.” She wasn’t thinking straight and that was the only warning she could really give him.
    He grunted.
    In witch vision, she saw the outline of the threshold pulse faintly. It was nearly marred in shadow, likely because the heart-power that the threshold thrived on was no longer beating. She didn’t see physical shapes. No outlines. Her legs found the edge of the sofa right next to the door as she stepped through.
    The threshold hummed as she passed through