CHAPTER 20

{DETECTIVE GRANT’S POV}

Detective Grant was shocked not because the crime scene was particularly bloody. Not because some horrific violence had taken place. It was something else. Something surreal.

It was too quiet. Everything was in perfect place. Except, of course, for the body. He sat slumped backwards in his chair, his neck exposed. And there, under the light, were two perfect holes, right in his jugular vein.

No blood. No signs of struggle. No torn clothing. Nothing else out of place. It was as if a bat had descended, sucked his blood perfectly clean, then flew away, without touching anything else. It was eerie. And outright terrifying. If his skin hadn’t turned completely white, she would have thought he was still alive, just taking a nap. She even felt tempted to go over and feel his pulse. But she knew that would be stupid.

Sergei Rakov. He was young. And from what she’d heard, he’d been an arrogant prick. Could he already have had enemies?

What in hell could have done