Jury of Peers Read Online Free PDF

ten thousand more than he’d ever live in, and the truth be known, way more than he’d ever really want.  But it was nice – well built and in a good part of town.  He noticed neighbors braving the weather from their clean, well–lit porches as they wondered how their property values would be affected.
    Maybe it wasn't that nice. 
    These folks probably thought they were buying some security, a nice house with good people next door, away from all of the shit that they saw on the news.  Quality schools.  Alarm systems.  Big trees.  He took a deep breath of the suburban air.  The Coroner’s pickup would pull up soon along with the chronically overworked CSI crews, and then the porch dwellers would retreat inside, satisfied to peek from their arched windows… and check on the kids.
    Two additional police cruisers had pulled up along the street, their red and blue strobes ruining what little calm was left outside.  Presumably these were the reinforcements that would rescue Meyers from himself.
                  Tonic appeared at the back door and worked his way down the bricks of the custom made driveway, the beam from his flashlight preceding him.  He paused, squatted down, and peered at the foundation.  He looked up.  “Cigarette here.”
                  Finn walked over.  “I know that cop, Meyers.  He seems a little outta whack, eh?” 
                  “Yeah, no shit,” Tonic popped the butt into an evidence bag.  “He was there with the hooker right?”  He held the bag up to the light.  “I’d say this was a fairly unfiltered sort of cigarette wouldn’t you?”
                  Finn nodded, “I thought pot made you mellow.”
                  “Well it made these guys into assholes.”
                  “Best guess?”
                  Tonic stood and stretched.  “At least two, both pricks.  And they’re way ghandi.  Feels like a jump–in to me or maybe a suburban guy that tried to score some ice from the wrong dudes.”  He looked into the darkening sky.  "Helicopter coming."
                  Finn looked too, listening for a few seconds.  Nothing.  "You're a freak you know.  There's no helicopter."  Finn didn't hear the thing for another thirty seconds as per usual. 
    "Okay… so this doesn't seem like anything fancy.  Anything inside to substantiate that?”
                  “Why ya think I’m out here?” Tonic gestured with the bag for him to follow.  “Busted the back door, but it wasn’t locked.  Looks like the alarm was tripped from inside.  Panic button.  We’ll check with the company…. A rep’s on the way out I'm sure but, big deal.”  He stepped through the door and up into the kitchen.  “There’s a 911 call, no word on what was said yet."
                  “Struggle here,” Finn pointed.  A long rug was twisted off of the sticky runners that had held it in place.
                  “Yeah, started here looks like,” Tonic pointed.  "But it ended there.”  He stopped short of the hallway and let Finn pass.
                  The little girl was there, naked from the waist down, broken and askew.  There was no peace in this hallway and there never would be.  The stench was raw, vividly carnal.  Her blood had pooled, been struggled within, and then re–pooled once again after she’d been killed.  Finn stepped along the edge of the hall.  Blood, vomit, and urine spread across his path, creeping along the floorboards and seeping into the wood.
                  “What’s all this shit say?” he swung the beam of his light across the wall and cocked his head.  Spray paint dripped, a circle and some numbers.
                  “More tags.  I’ll have somebody take a look at ‘em.  I can’t keep all the gang stuff straight.  We’ll get pictures.  Prolly though, it’ll be a big