“Long-neck. Full of life.â?
The bartender bent over the fridge and lingered, pretending to be searching for my beer but really just trying to show off her only worthwhile assets. She popped the cap and slid the beer into my waiting hands.
“What you got, Blake?â? Detective Werner grunted as he sat in the dilapidated stool next to mine.
Dead hookers. Girls who stood on street corners earning a living by calling to strangers for a ‘date’. Girls who would still be alive if they kept their mouths shut and legs closed. Girls found in back alleys drained of blood.
“That guy in the corner. Have him brought to the station,â? I mumbled into my beer bottle. “Delay him. Lock him in a room. I’m willing to bet that when morning comes a knockin’, the killings will stop.â?
I tilted my head back, lapping up the last few drops of beer.
“Getcha another?â? the bartender asked. I looked into her glazed eyes; years of calling out the same lines to pathetic guys had slowly killed her.
“Yeah,â? I replied. “Long-neck. Full of life.â?