In the Company of Liars Read Online Free PDF Page A

to find it. You get it? You see what happened? She wanted it settled. She confessed her sins before she killed herself. She’s telling us she killed Sam Dillon.”
    McCoy sighs. “Call this in, Owen?”
    â€œSure.”
    Her team shows up quietly, parking their dark sedans the next street over and coming through the backyard. This kind of crime scene isn’t their typical protocol; the feds don’t often investigate homicides. But this one doesn’t require much detail, anyway. They photograph the scene, dust for prints, gather hairs and fibers, test for residue on Allison’s gun hand, finally carry the body out in a covered stretcher. McCoy holds off on calling the locals for an hour, because with the local cops comes the local media. She knows they’ll make it here eventually but she wants to give it some time.
    She stands outside two hours later, at nine in the morning. The air is cool and crisp; she prefers spring mornings to any other, even under these circumstances. By now the reporters have arrived and are lining the crime-scene tape, shouting questions to anyone who appears to resemble law enforcement. Was this a suicide? Where was she found? Did she leave a note?
    McCoy peers at them, silent, through her sunglasses. Something like that , she does not say to them.
    Four sedans are lined up along the curb now. Neighbors have gathered around the home as well. This is not the first news of something amiss at the Pagone residence, butthere’s been nothing this public, at least not since the search warrant was executed months ago.
    Jane McCoy appreciates her anonymity. Like many agents, she is relatively unknown to reporters. She is unaccustomed to scenes like this. Most of what the agents do is under the radar, and here she is, being photographed and taped standing outside the home. It is a matter of courtesy more than anything. She is waiting for someone.
    She sees a steel-blue Mercedes pull up quickly to the curb. Roger Ogren, an assistant county attorney, pops out. From what she knows of him, which isn’t much, she wouldn’t expect the flashy ride. Not his personality and quite the fat price tag for his government salary. But every boy needs a toy.
    Ogren uses the remote on his keychain to lock up the car and walks up toward the house. He walks under the tape, stops on the front lawn, looks around, finally focuses on Jane.
    â€œAgent McCoy,” he says.
    â€œIt’s Jane, Roger.”
    He puts his hands on his hips, wets his lips. “Suicide?”
    She nods. “Bullet in the mouth.”
    He sighs deeply, seems to deflate. Hurry up and stop—he was in the full heat of trial mode, and now the defendant is dead.
    â€œNo sign of forced entry,” McCoy elaborates. “No sign of foul play at all. GSR on her hand and wrist.”
    Ogren does not take the news well. The woman he was prosecuting, driven to suicide.
    â€œYou were going for the death penalty, anyway,” McCoy says.
    He runs his hands through his hair. “She was a killer. I was about two trial days away from proving that.”
    â€œI know. I was following it. You were doing very well.”
    â€œSuicide.” Roger Ogren stands helplessly a moment. He is in a suit, but his shirt is open at the neck. He got ready in a hurry. He sighs and seems to deflate.
    â€œIt’s not your fault,” McCoy offers, in case he needs to hear it. “If anything, it’s mine. This lady was up to some bad stuff. Not just this murder.”
    â€œNot just this murder,” Ogren repeats. “But you won’t tell me what.”
    â€œYou know I can’t.”
    She tries to read his expression. Really, how upset can he be? Like she said, he was seeking the death penalty, after all. If the defendant killed herself because she couldn’t face prison, and ultimately a lethal injection, she just saved everyone the trouble.
    He wanted the conviction, she assumes. He’s not