Hall, Jessica Read Online Free PDF Page B

drink.
    "May I have some water, please?" Her voice sounded raspy
and strained, but that might have been from the smoke.
    As Terri got a cup from the cooler and filled it, she kept an eye
on her partner. J. D.'s usual method with witnesses was to sit down, put them
at ease, and charm all the details out of them. He was good at it, too. Her
partner never had a problem making anyone feel as if they could tell him
anything. She'd probably told him way too much about herself over the years.
    Not this time, though. J. D. didn't open the interview by
consoling the victim, didn't establish rapport, didn't do anything the way he
usually did. He didn't even sit down, but slowly walked the length of the room,
watching Sable with the single-minded intensity of a starved junkyard dog
presented with a wounded rabbit.
    Or a rejected lover, looking for a little revenge.
    It didn't make sense to Terri. Sable Duchesne was a very pretty
woman, but hardly J. D.'s type. He stuck to high-maintenance Garden
District debutantes who never wore white after Labor Day and had their names
plastered all over the society pages. Lately he'd been spending a lot of time
with one particularly obnoxious Creole debutante, Moriah Navarre, and if his
mama had her way, he would be married to her as soon as possible.
    Marc LeClare's death would definitely upset J. D.'s father, and
possibly put Elizabet Gamble's wedding plans on the back burner. That worked
for Terri—any excuse to keep from shopping for a dress was okay by her, and
she'd never been too crazy about the idea of J. D. marrying The Deb.
    "Here you go." She handed Sable the water, and noticed
the wounds on her palms again when she accepted the cup. "You sure you
don't remember how you got those splinters, Ms. Duchesne?"
    Sable examined her hands. "I think I tried to get out through
a window."
    As Terri sat down, J. D. came to stand over Sable, not touching
her but getting a little too close. The witness ignored him completely.
    Terri cleared her throat and gave her partner a direct look. Get
on with it, she mouthed.
    "Are you living in New Orleans now?" he asked.
    Sable drank some of the water before she answered. "No."
    He circled around her chair, as if trying to draw her attention to
him. "Why were you at that warehouse this morning?"
    "I was looking at it as office space." She stared down
at the cup. "I think I should speak to an attorney."
    "You'll speak to me now," J. D. told her.
    After a minute of silence, Terri decided to give her a gentle
prod. "Ms. Duchesne, you're not being charged with anything. We only want
to know what happened."
    Sable's shoulders hunched. "I don't remember much." She
sounded scared and defensive.
    Now J. D. will play her. Terri had seen him soothe
any number of other shaken witnesses, reassuring them while coaxing the
information from them.
    J. D. clamped one hand on the back of Sable's chair and grabbed
the hair at the back of her head. "Who hit you?"
    "J. D." Alarmed, Terri got to her feet.
    He didn't pull Sable's hair, but pushed it out of the way and
examined her scalp. There was a large swollen knot under her hair. "Did
you see who did this?"
    Dark red hair flew as Sable jerked her head to one side, away from
his touch. "No. I didn't see anyone."
    "Bullshit." He jerked her chair around so that she was
facing him. "What happened in that warehouse? Who hit you? Answer
me."
    "I don't know." Sable turned her head to look at Terri,
anger glittering in her eyes. "You said I could make a phone call. I want
to make it now, please."
    "J. D.," Terri repeated, with a warning note this time.
"You can make your call in a minute, Ms. Duchesne."
    Her partner used his hand to grab Sable's jaw and turn her face
back toward his. "Where did all this blood come from? How did you know
Marc LeClare? Why were you there? Who set the fire? Did you see who hit
you?"
    They were almost close enough to be kissing, Terri thought, but J.
D.'s voice hovered just below a shout.
    "I don't remember."