Free Blood Harvest by Michael Weinberger Page A

arms and shoulders out behind him then continued the walk back toward his car.

    Chapter 8

    Steve felt his body relax as he pulled his car into the parking space at his apartment complex. Nonetheless, all he had witnessed left his mind spinning. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on what his next move was going to be, he couldn’t shake the images of the whole insane night. The Captain had asked him to work with Chris. Why? He wasn’t sure, but getting another person involved was probably a good first step.
    God, he felt tired. The adrenaline of the evening was wearing off and was leaving his body feeling drained. All Steve wanted to do was get inside and sleep, although he knew his mind was racing far too fast for that to be a possibility.
    “Ah screw it!” Steve pulled the flask from his pocket and drained the contents in a succession of rapid swallows. Instantly, he felt energized and his lethargy left his mind and body, washed away by the cocktail.
    The thought that Chris would share in the investigation actually made him feel better. Sometimes Steve would forget how much of a friend Chris was to him. Okay, so the guy had become eccentric during the time he had spent as a M.E., but no truer friend could ever be found. The two used to spend most of their free time together when they had any, since neither of them ever managed to have any lasting romantic involvements. Any distance between them currently existing, Steve knew, was as a result of his not being available after making Detective far more than as a result of Chris being eccentric.

    Unbeknownst to Steve as he approached his building, an intense pair of eyes watched from her hiding place. She shrunk back into the shadows at her first glimpse of him; once Steve came further into view she could make out his face and the fact that he seemed to be smiling at some personal joke written on the ground in front of him. Was he drunk? Maybe, but he seemed to have good balance and was generally in control of himself. The woman wondered how he would behave when she stepped fully out of the shadows and revealed her presence to him.

    Steve laughed out loud at one particular memory regarding a practical joke he and Chris had pulled on some unsuspecting friends. As the scene materialized in his mind, motion to his left returned his attention to the present. A woman appeared to flow out of the darkness and pause under one of the few operating lights in the parking garage’s ceiling.
    Steve froze.
    This was not just a woman. This woman was the personification of every man’s adolescent, and probably adult, fantasy brought to life. Steve squinted to get a clearer view of her in the faltering light just as she turned to face him, slowly walking forward.
    “Oh…my…God!” Steve barely uttered under his breath as she came fully into view. The strength had been sapped from his bones and the breath from his lungs.
    The woman looked young, maybe early twenties, definitely of multicultural descent with predominant influences of Asian and Caucasian origins, wearing all black. Well, at least the little she was wearing was all black. Fishnet stockings exposed her thighs above knee high boots and below her body hugging patent leather “extremely mini” skirt. Her flat abdomen was fully exposed with barely visible striated abdominal muscles twisting with each movement. She wore a black patent leather jacket appearing to have been polished to the same high gloss shine as her boots and miniskirt. The jacket remained unzipped revealing a see-through black lace bra she wore like a bikini top.
    She was deeply tanned and lean, without an iota of extra fat anywhere on her five foot seven inch frame. Her arms and legs were extremely muscular; hers was a streamlined look, well-defined, but allowing her to keep all of her femininity intact. Her waist and hips were small, solid, round and smooth; her breasts a size disproportionately large for her frame, resting high on her chest. Her