A Judgment of Whispers Read Online Free PDF

officer’s squad car. A muscular, dark-haired young man dressed in dark trousers and a white shirt got out of the car. He carried a large, aluminum briefcase. CSI, decided Jack. Maybe SBI.
    â€œThis better be good,” the young man called as he hurried over to Cochran. “You pulled me out of a speech by Prentiss Herbert.”
    The sheriff laughed. “Then you owe me a beer, Victor. Maybe a six pack.”
    Jack crept closer, eavesdropping. His hearing was still good, and this Victor sounded interesting.
    â€œMary made her first speech this morning,” the young man went on. “At the Chat N Chew.”
    â€œHow’d she do?” asked Cochran.
    â€œGreat,” said Victor. “Laid Prentiss Herbert low.” He pulled out a pair of latex gloves from his back pocket. “So what have we got here?”
    â€œA case so cold it was frozen,” said Cochran. “Until Saunooke’s dog came on the scene.”
    Victor glanced over his shoulder at him and the dog, then back at short, broad Saunooke. “Who’s that holding the dog now?”
    â€œAn old guy who was just up here,” said Saunooke. “Claims he worked this case years ago.”
    Victor looked at Cochran. “Seriously?”
    â€œHis IDs check out,” said Cochran, “though I’ve never heard of him.”
    Victor shrugged. “Whatever. Tell me what’s up.”
    Cochran turned his back and brought Victor up to speed. Jack caught the words “a nine year old white female … casserole to a neighbor. Found her … under that tree.”
    â€œHer name was Teresa Ewing. She died of blunt force trauma to the left frontal squama,” called Jack, suddenly wanting to prove that he was not just some old fart revisiting his glory days. He wasn’t stupid. He was just retired. “Her jeans were unzipped, and she didn’t have on any underpants, but there was no evidence of sexual assault. No semen, and her hymen was intact.”
    The three younger men gaped at him. He kept going, repeating details only an investigator would know. “Logan had just gotten his first DNA kit. He thought it was total bullshit, but he knew we’d be in trouble if he didn’t at least make a stab at using it. But the scene was polluted before he even opened the kit. Everybody in the neighborhood ran over to peer at the dead girl under the Spanish Oak.”
    â€œDid you have any suspects?” called the sheriff.
    â€œWe questioned plenty of people, took blood and hair from six. But Logan had messed up the DNA sampling so badly that they couldn’t come up with any matches. It wasn’t like it is now.”
    The one named Victor frowned at the sheriff, as if wondering if he should really be talking to him. Jack was thinking now would probably be a good time for him to shut up when a second car pulled up. A heavy, red-faced man pulled himself out of a white Crown Vic and waddled toward the group under the tree. Jack chuckled. He would recognize that slew-footed walk anywhere.
    â€œHello, Whaley.”
    The man stopped, stared, blinked. “Hamburger Jack?”
    â€œNone other.” Wilkins got up, started to walk over to Whaley, then remembered he was a quasi-suspect. He looked at the sheriff. “May I go greet the detective?”
    Cochran nodded. Jack went over, gave Whaley a brusque, masculine hug. He saw immediately the toll that years of law enforcement had taken on the man. He was thirty pounds overweight, with bloodshot eyes and a network of red capillaries on his nose that screamed I drink way too much. I’ve drunk way too much for years. Still, Jack was glad to see him. Though their partnership had been like a bottle of oil and water, he was glad that Whaley was still upright and breathing.
    â€œHow you been, old buddy?” Whaley clapped him on the back. “Still chomping the burgers?”
    â€œI’m doing okay. Got four grandkids and a