Broken Places Read Online Free PDF Page A

notified?”
    Tom shook his head. “I’ll drive out there and tell her.”
    “I suppose you have to consider her a suspect.”
    “The spouse is always a suspect.”
    “Well, I can’t believe she had anything to do with this. Are you going to call Lindsay?”
    Gretchen’s gaze searched Tom’s face with a curiosity that made him avert his eyes. “I’ll let her mother tell her,” he said.
    Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now that Cam’s death would bring the Taylors’ daughter back home? Lindsay would stay with her mother through the funeral, at least. Tom hadn’t seen Lindsay since the Christmas holidays, and their chance meeting on Main Street in Mountainview had been awkward for both of them. But now her father’s murder would be her only concern. Lindsay wouldn’t have the time or inclination to think about Tom and their failed romance.
    “Hey, boss,” Brandon yelled from the road. “Here comes our man.”
    Tom jogged through the woods as fast as the undergrowth allowed. When he reached the road, Brandon had already stopped Ben Hern in his black Jaguar. Tom took a minute to wipe sweat from his face with his handkerchief before he approached.
    Hern had powered down his window and was craning his neck to see up ahead. “What’s going on?” he asked Tom.
    “You don’t know?”
    “Know what? Is that Cam Taylor’s car? Has there been an accident?”
    “Step out of your vehicle, please.” Tom rested one hand on the butt of his pistol.
    “What? What’s happening here?”
    “Step out of the vehicle, please. Now.”
    “Why?”
    Tom didn’t answer, but met Hern’s exasperation with a calm stare.
    Finally Hern sighed heavily and cut his engine. Under his breath, he uttered something in Spanish that didn’t sound complimentary.
    The big man unfolded himself from the low-slung Jaguar with a fluid grace that made Tom think of a powerful cat rising to its feet. Tom couldn’t even imagine himself in a car like this, and he’d probably be as awkward getting out of it as Gretchen had been when she’d exited her Prius. But in his early thirties, Tom wouldn’t have arthritis to blame.
    Hern slammed his door shut. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
    “Cameron Taylor’s body is lying in the woods over there. As far as I can tell right now, you were the last person to see him.”
    “His body?” Hern’s bewildered glance flicked from Taylor’s car to the trees. “Are you saying he’s dead?”
    His confusion seemed genuine enough, Tom thought, but he’d had plenty of time to rehearse what he would say and do when confronted with Taylor’s death. Watching Hern’s face, Tom said, “He was murdered.”
    Hern’s mouth fell open, and for a few seconds he said nothing. Then he scrubbed a hand across his face and said, “How? Who—”
    “Rachel found his car sitting empty on the road and called 911.”
    Hern winced. “ Ay, Dios mio. Where is Rachel? Is she upset?”
    “Turn around and lean your hands on the vehicle,” Tom said.
    “Excuse me?”
    “I said turn around.”
    Hern looked so incredulous that Tom expected him to balk. That wouldn’t be a problem, with Brandon standing by to help ensure cooperation, but in the end Hern threw up his hands and faced the car. “Go ahead, have your fun, if you think it’s necessary.”
    Tom patted him down, feeling nothing but hard muscle under his black jeans and black tee shirt. The guy was in fantastic shape, probably worked out an hour or two a day. Tom had more than a little trouble seeing him as an artist who made his living—an enviable living—by drawing cartoons about his cat and dog.
    Finding no weapon, Tom stepped back. “Where have you been since you left your house?”
    “I went for a drive,” Hern said with exaggerated patience.
    “Did you stop anywhere, talk to anybody?”
    “Not a soul.”
    “Did you see any other vehicles on the road, even from a distance?”
    “No.”
    “Do I have your permission to search