Blown Away Read Online Free PDF

get.”
    The strain in his voice intrigued her. Branch worked hundreds of murder investigations in New Jersey before Bell Laboratories transferred his wife, Lydia, an engineer, to Naperville. Branch came along for the ride, tired of Garden State politicians big-footing his cases for their elections. Chief Kendall Cross took one look at his resume and appointed him chief of detectives, the first outsider to win that coveted post. The troops griped but eventually fought to get on his squads because he was good and backed his people completely. If Branch needs a cigar, she told herself, who am I to argue?
    She accepted the match proffered by a young deputy. This was the county sheriff’s jurisdiction, as the cemetery was a whisker outside Naperville’s city limits. She nodded her appreciation, puffed till the end flamed yellow…then coughed till her eyes flooded.
    â€œWell, it is a fifty-cent cigar,” Branch said. “It’s gonna taste a little rough.”
    Emily hacked till the burning eased. “Haven’t you heard life’s too short to smoke cheap cigars?”
    â€œWhoever said that never drew no chalk line round no dead body,” Branch observed. “These things taste like dead perch, but man they generate a stink. A trait you’ll appreciate when you meet the deceased.” Branch handed her a pair of white latex gloves.
    Emily eyed the convertible, then took a more tentative puff. “What do you want me to do?”
    â€œLook over the crime scene. Start here at the road, and examine everything you see. Don’t forget to listen and smell.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œClues aren’t always visual.”
    Emily tugged on the gloves and smoothed the air lumps between her fingers. Even counting the “headline” murders—Marilyn Lemak poisoning and smothering her three young children to repay her husband for suggesting divorce, a psycho abducting little Jeanine Nicarico from her home in broad daylight, then dumping her broken body on a nearby walking trail—homicides were exceedingly rare in upper-middle-class Naperville. Making a cop’s chances of working one accordingly slim. She was glad Branch called. Even if it made her uneasy. “Then what?”
    Branch hopped the drainage ditch separating the road from the cemetery. “Find me when you’re ready, and we’ll compare notes.” He walked away, shoving his hands in his pockets.
    She looked down on Normantown Road. The asphalt was new, its coal black surface still sheeny with oil. Maybe some rubbed onto the killer’s shoes. Be sure to mention that to Branch. Beyond the east ditch sat the tiny, fenced-off cemetery. Beyond the west ditch ran the Elgin, Joliet & Eastern Railway, a freight line that cinched Chicago’s outermost suburbs in a 110-mile iron belt.
    Next to the tracks was a concrete pylon with a W mortised into the top. It looked like a grave marker. “How appropriate,” Emily murmured, though she knew it told the engineer to whistle for Wolf’s Crossing Road a half-mile north. West of the tracks was an industrial park filled with jeans-and-flanneled truck drivers gawking at the flash-flash. She smiled. Not that long ago she’d been doing the same. Surrounding everything was cornfield, though that was changing fast—Naperville was expanding like Jiffy Pop. It was the rare farmer who turned down eight figures to grow houses instead of corn. In two years this field would sprout million-dollar condos.
    She walked toward the cemetery, skirting a puppy sprawled lifelessly on the shoulder. Judging from the smear of blood around her mouth, the Scottish terrier had lost a game of tag with a car. Emily’s heart went out to the unmoving pile of fur. She loved dogs—all animals, in fact, even the crazy deer that totaled her car. She couldn’t afford tears, though. She’d look weak to the other cops. So she bade the pup silent good-bye and