Chilling Effect Read Online Free PDF

she said, “It’s not just a dead rabbit. It’s a rabbit that was shot point-blank between the eyes, at close range, using a small-caliber weapon.
    Ring any bells?”
    Th e chief’s substantial eyebrows wriggled across his forehead
    like gray caterpillars.
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    “You think Palmer’s shooter did the rabbit, too?”
    “Well, it didn’t commit suicide, chief.” She managed to keep
    her disdain out of her voice, but just barely. Th is guy was a joke.
    “Good point. Hunt, go tell one of the forensic dweebs to check
    out the rabbit before the hawks turn it into dinner, eh?”
    Offi cer Hunt huff ed off .
    Th e chief squinted at Aroostine.
    “What kind of lawyer did you say you were?”
    “I didn’t. But I’m the kind of lawyer who’s on a romantic get-
    away with her husband. Why?”
    He looked from Aroostine to Joe and then back at her. “Th at
    was some detailed knowledge of ballistics for a civilian.”
    He waited.
    Maybe he wasn’t such a joke after all. She glanced at Joe, but
    he gave her an innocent look as if to say, “you got yourself into it, you can get out of it.”
    “Well, I have prosecuted some crimes back home. And I watch
    CSI, of course.” She smiled, willing him to laugh. Better to let him think she was ditz than to reveal that Isaac Palmer may have been
    killed because he was cooperating with a federal investigation of
    crimes committed on the chief’s turf.
    Th e short burst that came exploding from his throat might have
    been a chuckle, but it was devoid of actual humor.
    “Let me assure you, there’s nothing quite so exciting as an epi-
    sode of CSI happening here, ma’am. Th is is a small, if sprawling,
    community. We’re just a big extended family. Th is kind of violence is rare. And I’m sure there’s an explanation.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out two card stock tickets. “Now, we thank you for your
    good citizenship. And on behalf of the police force, we’d like to
    invite you to head up to the casino for dinner—our treat. Th e steak house is one of the best in the state.”
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    He extended the tickets. She hesitated. Was the chief of police
    trying to buy her off with a steak dinner? Or was this just typical resort-style public relations? After all, it wouldn’t do for a tourist’s only exposure to the reservation to be stumbling on a murder scene.
    Beside her, Joe shrugged. She knew he was thinking that they’d
    missed their reservation and they had to eat somewhere. As if to
    punctuate the point, his stomach growled loudly.
    “Okay, I guess. Um, thank you.” She plucked the tickets from
    the police chief’s hand.
    Joe watched his wife devour her petit fi let as if she hadn’t eaten in a week.
    “Maybe you should have gone for the New York strip,” he observed.
    She paused and swallowed then reached for her water glass before
    answering. “Don’t judge.”
    He smiled and sipped his wine.
    “I’m not. I’m just kind of surprised you have an appetite—much
    less one for rare meat—after what happened today.”
    She rested her fork and knife on the plate and leaned forward,
    resting her arms on the black linen tablecloth.
    “I know, right? I think I burned a lot of nervous energy or some-
    thing. I’m famished. But every time I think of that poor man . . .”
    She trailed off . Her dark eyes threatened to turn liquid.
    Crap. He wasn’t trying to make her cry.
    “Hey, hey. Don’t think about that. You need to eat. I was just
    teasing you.” He kept his tone light and looked around the bustling restaurant.
    Between the clank of glasses, the chatter of diners, and the
    din of ringing machines, shouts of despair, and whoops of joy that
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    drifted up from the casino fl oor below, no one was paying the slight-est bit of attention to them or their conversation.
    “Yeah,” she agreed. But the fork and knife stayed on the plate.
    She was quiet for a moment, then she gave him a searching