A Bloodhound to Die for Read Online Free PDF

bad breath made me fall back a step, to catch a clear lungful of air. Floyd advanced and still kept his hand on my breastbone.
    “The sheriff wants to see me. Let me by.”
    “I see you have on your orange playsuit that you sport around in, but what I don’t see is any of your mangy hounds. Gonna use your own nose this time?”
    “Let me pass, you poor excuse for a human being, or so help me God, Floyd, I’ll plant your balls in your rectum. Get out of my way!”
    Susan suddenly appeared right in his face and let go with a bloodcurdling scream. It startled Floyd so, he stumbled backward, almost losing his balance. It was so unexpected that I stood riveted in place. Both Susan and Jasmine grabbed my arms and began to propel me across the lawn. Soon the three of us were running freely for the back steps of the school.
    “Warn me next time,” I told Susan, panting, when we arrived at the door. “I still can’t hear in my left ear!”
    “Just remember, surprise works just as well as threats!” She cackled with glee. “I could get into this very easily. See what you’ve been missing by not taking me along?”
    “Oh God,” I said to Jasmine. “I’ve created a monster. Give me some help here.”
    “Susan, you were marvelous!” Jasmine enthused.
    “You call that help?”
    “Here comes Hank,” Susan said.
    He frowned as he approached us. “What are you doing in your rescue suit? You don’t possibly think I’m going to let you walk into that room, do you? Why did you bring Jasmine and Susan? I’ve got enough to worry about in trying to figure out who in my department is informing GIB of my every move. Fray is on the way.”
    John Fray is in charge of the Waycross field office of the GBI, Georgia Bureau of Investigation. We call them GIB, and the FBI, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, FIB, to show our contempt.
    “Where is he now?” Agent Fray is a horse’s ass and causes me a great deal of distress when he pokes his nose into our local problems.
    “About ten minutes out of Waycross, burning up the pavement to get here. He’s bringing a quote, negotiator, unquote. I’m not to do anything until he arrives.”
    “We have a good forty minutes. Which room are they in?” I asked, peering down the hall. Lieutenant J. C. Sirmans, Hank’s second-in-command, was leaning against the wall about fifteen feet away, at the next juncture, a hall leading to the left. I started his way.
    “Jo Beth,” Hank whispered urgently. “Come back. Idon’t want you walking in there. Maybe we
should
wait for the negotiator.”
    I walked back and stood toe to toe with him and put my hands on my hips.
    “How many do you think will die in there if we wait too long, or get Sara more agitated than she already is? I’ll talk to her outside the door. Let’s see what she has to say. I will seem less threatening than a stranger.”
    He laid a hand on my shoulder. “I knew I wouldn’t win this argument from the get go. If you’re going to talk to her, I’m going to know what is going on.”
    He motioned to J.C. and he began to tiptoe toward us.
    “J.C. has a wire. J.C., I want to be able to hear what she’s saying.”
    “Hurry up, J.C,” I said impatiently, “the meter is running.” He picked up the kit, and began taping the mike to my T-shirt, and dropped the battery pack in an inside pocket of my jumpsuit. In less than five minutes, he announced that he could hear me fine. He had the equipment spread out on a desk in the first room to the right.
    “Just to the door, Sidden,” Hank said gruffly.
    “Gotcha,” I replied, crossing my fingers in front of me as I walked slowly up the hall.
    When I reached room 123, I placed my ear against the door and strained to hear through the thick oak. This building was built in the 1940s, and had been renovated from time to time, but all the doors, casings, and window frames were the original oak, which seemed impervious to time.
    I knocked softly three times and listened. I could