Hall, Jessica Read Online Free PDF Page A

your hands?"
    Sable examined her palms, both of which had some long, dark
splinters embedded in the flesh above each wrist. For the life of her, she
didn't know how they had gotten there. "I don't know."
    Without warning, Jean-Delano slid in behind the wheel and slammed
his door, making Sable jump.
    Not Jean-Delano. J. D. Lieutenant Gamble. Have to remember that.
    He had changed over the years. His hair was shorter, clipped close
to his head on the sides, probably to keep it from curling. There were a few
silver strands at his temples. He wasn't as lean as he'd been in college; his
shoulders seemed wider, his chest deeper. A thin scar flagged one of his
cheekbones and, along with the lines etching his temples, made him appear
tougher, harder.
    "We'll do this at the station." J. D. started the engine
and looked at the brunette. "You ready to go?"
    The way Sable's heart skipped at the sound of his voice annoyed
her. Forget about his voice, his face. He's just a cop.
    "Yeah." Sergeant Vincent flipped the notepad closed as
J. D. shifted into drive and pulled out from the curb. "In a hurry, are
we?" He didn't answer her, and she clipped on her seat belt. "Ho.
Kay."
    Sable dragged her thoughts away from J. D. and concentrated on
what she had to do first. Remy—the news of what had happened would be too much
of a shock. Her father was on heart medication now, and his doctor had warned
her about the dangers of any additional stress. That meant keeping him away
from the city and out of this. "I have to get to a phone as soon as
possible."
    "No problem, Ms. Duchesne." J. D.'s partner lit a
cigarette. "You can make your call from the station."
    J. D.'s gaze met hers in the rearview mirror for a moment. That
was one thing that hadn't changed—the startling blue of his eyes. They went
dark when he was angry, and right now they looked as black as the depths of
hell.
    I'm not letting him
take me there again.
     
    Terri Vincent loved being a cop, but she wasn't too crazy about
the paperwork.
    As J. D. drove them back to headquarters, she made a mental list
of the reports and the forms she would have to fill out. There were a lot.
Finding a dead body at the scene of an arson was serious business.
    The New Orleans Police Department had relocated the year before
into the new, state-of-the-art facility built for them by the city as part of
an ongoing campaign to improve local law enforcement. The new headquarters
housed everything required for the day-to-day control of the eight police
districts under NOPD command, along with computerized infrastructures that
automated everything from ballistics identification to evidence tracking.
Community policing and investigation units were integrated with special teams
to coordinate local, state, and federal investigations, as well as supervise
major annual events like Mardi Gras and the Sugar Bowl.
    Yet as with most metropolitan law enforcement agencies, it already
looked like the force had been entrenched in the new building for decades.
Overcrowded work space, rows of dilapidated filing cabinets, and endless stacks
of paperwork formed a labyrinth on every floor. The new computer systems took
up precious space and generated reams of reports to add to the clutter.
    Terri noticed a group of college students sitting quiet and sullen
on the hard wooden benches in front of the big desk that was the first stop on
their way to processing. Someone's Mardi Gras party had gotten out of hand,
judging from the bruised, sweaty faces and the plastic barf bags the desk
sergeant had distributed.
    J. D. walked their witness straight past check-in and went for the
elevator. Terri stayed behind long enough to send a couple of uniforms to Marc
LeClare's house, to collect the widow and bring her down to the morgue to
confirm the ID.
    "You going to call your dad?" Terri said as she caught
up, grabbing the elevator door before it closed.
    "Later." He punched the second-floor button.
    She didn't like the expression on her