Stormy Weather (Storm Donovan Book 1) Read Online Free

good handwriting these days, he thought. A pity penmanship was not really taught in school anymore. He shook the thought out of his head and pressed the gas pedal down. Seconds later he hit the brakes as the car in front of him stopped.
    It took him an hour to make his way to the harbor, but then he raced through the remainder of the traffic to finally pull up by the side of a warehouse where an ambulance and several police cars stood. He saw the SUV with the inverted flowerpot and figured that must be Albert's car. He jumped out of the open top E-type and walked to the door of the warehouse. An FBI tape was tied across the door opening. He looked in and ducked under the tape. “Albert!”
    A woman with a long wavy pony tail and an FBI jacket rushed toward him and had already begun pushing him back behind the tape when Albert showed up. “What are you doing here?” he asked him gruffly. As an answer, Donovan pulled the letter from his pocket and held it out for Albert behind the wavy-haired agent's back. Albert grasped it and took the letter out of the envelope. He took a single look at it and he laid a hand on the woman's shoulder. “It's alright, he can come in here. He's a former agent as well, so he knows the rules.”
    The agent stopped pushing Donovan back and stepped out of his way. Donovan straightened his suit jacket and gave the woman a wink. Then he followed Albert, who was already walking to the back of the warehouse.
    Donovan had seen his share of horror in the FBI, but he was shocked by what he saw. Something that had clearly been a man lay close to the wall in a puddle of blood. The coroner and his assistant were still taking pictures. “Dear God...” Donovan muttered when he came closer. “What the hell have they done?”
    The coroner looked at him and shook his head. “Back with us, Donovan?” He looked at the screen of his camera again. “I really have seen it all now.”
    Albert came to stand next to Donovan. “Messy, eh?”
    “What the fuck is this?” Donovan still watched the horror scene in complete amazement.
    “I believe they call this a Blood Eagle,” the coroner said casually. “Viking execution. They cut through the skin at his back, broke his ribs, spread them out and pulled out the lungs to lay across the broken ribs so it looks like wings. They then left the victim to die like that.” The man shook his head. “I hope to find they did this post-mortem. I don't even want to try and imagine the pain he must have gone through otherwise.”
    “The murderer must have been filled with rage to do this,” Albert remarked.
    The coroner looked at him. “You'd think that, but this is a very calculated and detailed way to kill. Even if done after death, it might have required a lot of hate, but not anger. You have to be in control to do something like this.”
    Donovan suddenly felt sick and swiftly ran to the door of the warehouse. The back door opened out on the dock and he breathed deep the smell of the sea and of dirty ship fuel. “Dear God...” he said again, trying to stop himself from throwing up. He was used to some things, but this just made him sick.
    Albert came to stand next to him. “Like something out of one of your gangster stories.”
    “You're sure it's Denny Lang?” Donovan asked his friend as he laid his hands on his neck, pulling his collar open so he could draw deep breaths.
    “Yeah. He matches the pictures and we found his ID in his pocket. Checked the fingerprints, but they're not on record, meaning it isn't Quinn.”
    “Good.”
    “Give your letter to the good old Doc as evidence. He can analyze the blood. If it's the same, well…” Albert shrugged and nodded to the car. “Got your file over in the car. Oh, and anyone else touch the letter?”
    “Envelope will be useless. My secretary and the mailman touched it. Everyone in the post office probably. I alone touched the letter.” Donovan was still shaking and trying to breathe away his nausea. “Fucking