Pushed Too Far: A Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

crosshairs.”
    Val thought of Chief Schneider’s warning. That’s what it came down to. Make sure Hess stayed in prison or prepare for the avalanche of blame that would bury not only her, but Monica, too.
    Not to mention what Hess would do once he was free.
    “Let’s see what Harlan can tell us,” Val said.
    In her career as a cop, Val had spent more time in a morgue than she’d ever dreamed possible, and yet she still felt that cold shiver as soon as she stepped foot inside.
    Monica was right. It was the smell.
    There weren’t many bodies in and out of the little county morgue, not like the endless parade in Chicago, but the place still held that fleshy, slightly sweet odor that no disinfectant or air freshener could mask.
    Once she’d made the mistake of wearing her street clothes to the autopsy of a man whose body had been found by a deer hunter in the forest preserve. She’d never liked the outfit much, so it wasn’t a big loss, but her date she’d met for dinner after hadn’t been amused.
    Come to think of it,
he
wasn’t much of a loss either.
    Today was different though. In addition to that dead smell, there was another she knew equally well. The scent of burned bone had hung in her hair and coated her skin for weeks leading up to Dixon Hess’s arrest.
    Monica hovering in the hall behind her, Val stepped around the scale built into the floor for weighing bodies at check in and ducked her head into the small evidence room off to the right. “Hello?”
    “In here, sweet knees.” A gruff voice said from down the hall.
    Harlan Runk was one of the most grizzled old coots Val had run across in Wisconsin, and that was saying something. Even the times she’d seen him in court dressed in suit and tie, he still managed to look like he’d just come in from an extended fishing trip or deer hunting excursion with the boys. His gray hair was rumpled, a two-day shadow of salt-and-pepper stubble covered scarred cheeks. Even his eyebrows resembled a backwoods thicket.
    But despite his appearance and propensity for using nicknames and veiled come-ons that would set even an anti-feminist’s teeth on edge, he’d always been competent and eager to help in any way he could.
    With Val, that counted for a lot.
    She found him in the autopsy room, hunched over a to-go container, eating what looked like spaghetti in a lumpy tomato sauce or … something.
    He glanced up, a splotch of red dotting his silver stubbled chin. “Decided to go ahead and eat. Thought you were going to be here before lunch.”
    “Sorry. I was held up.”
    He squinted past her, spotting Monica. “And how do, counselor? Haven’t seen you down here very often.”
    “Hello, Mr. Runk.”
    “So formal? Even when I’m not in the witness box?”
    “I like to keep things professional.”
    Val stifled a smile. Obviously Monica didn’t quite know how to deal with Harlan. Not surprising. Most women teetered on the edge between squicked out and patronizing.
    He focused on her, tilting his head to one side like a dog trying to make sense of human language. “I heard you’re being investigated.”
    “Not yet, Harlan. Not yet.”
    “Not fair, you ask me. That Jane Doe sure didn’t hack herself to pieces, jump in that barrel, douse herself with gasoline, and light the match.”
    Val eyed the collection of charred bones already laid out on the stainless steel gurney. “Have you had a chance to examine her?”
    “Little bit. Not sure what you think we’re going to find that we didn’t before.”
    “Unfortunately, I don’t either. But I live in hope.”
    Monica the optimist gave a supportive nod.
    He shoveled a few more bites into his mouth, leaving his lips tinged red with sauce, then tossed the Styrofoam in the trash and sidled up to the gurney of bones. With gloved hands, he picked up each, in turn, making grunting sounds in the back of his throat.
    Monica was the first to speak. “What do you see?”
    “Some bones. Well done.”
    She rolled her