Reckless Creed Read Online Free PDF Page B

Seaver.”
    â€œRyder Creed. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
    Before another word was spoken, Creed and Jason noticed the dogs. Both Grace and Molly were sniffing the air, rapid breaths. Then suddenly the two of them lay down right at the feet of Gus Seaver.

8
    CHICAGO
    D espite the hood’s plastic shield, O’Dell immediately could smell something slightly rotten when she crossed the threshold into the room. Beyond the narrow alcove she saw that everything looked curiously neat. Bedcovers were pulled up and tucked in at the end, though on closer inspection she saw the imprint in the top pillow where someone had laid his head.
    Still, there was no clutter occupying the nightstands. The desk’s surface had a hotel phone and notepad that hadn’t been disturbed. A room service cart in the corner had plates with stainless steel lids still in place. That was where the smell was coming from. O’Dell walked over and gently lifted a lid to find overripened strawberries. They were carefully stacked in an untouched pyramid.
    Platt watched her from the alcove, arms crossed, eyes intense. She was getting the first look before he began taking samples. If Jacks was correct, the victim was the last one inside this room.
    Then she turned and saw the flat-screen TV. Something had been sprayed across the surface, thick droplets that had dried. Shenoticed that the wall behind had been splattered, too, with rust-brown flecks that O’Dell suspected might be blood.
    She glanced at Platt, inviting his input.
    â€œI’m thinking bloody sputum.”
    She looked back at the screen and the wall and said, “Seems like a lot.”
    â€œThe autopsy report has photos of his lungs. I’ll forward everything to you.”
    She went back to examining the room. She’d do an overall view first, then come back and work a grid.
    Nothing was missing from the minibar. One glass from the tray held what looked like water. Half full. The other glasses were still upside down on their rims, the coasters on top. The ice bucket was dry. There was nothing out of the ordinary.
    â€œThere doesn’t appear to be any kind of ritual,” she said while her eyes continued the search.
    â€œRitual?”
    â€œSometimes when a person commits suicide there’ll be small, sort of ritualistic things they’ll do. They might take off their glasses, empty the change out of their pockets.” She gestured toward the bed. “Make the bed.”
    â€œI’m told he had his wallet in his back pocket.”
    â€œHow about a cell phone?”
    Platt shrugged. “That I don’t know. There’s a duffel bag on the floor of the closet.”
    She thought about checking out the bag but decided she wanted to see the balcony first. She stopped in front of the sliding glass door. It was unlocked.
    â€œWas this closed when you arrived?” she asked.
    â€œYes.”
    She was careful how she touched the handle, using the top and pushing with two fingers instead of grabbing it so she wouldn’t destroy any prints. It took some effort to open and when it did slide, it made a grating sound of resistance.
    The cement patio was small and the cast-iron railing looked antique. It came as high as her waist. She could hear the traffic below. Through the plastic faceplate the snowflakes glittered. One glance down and she needed to take a step back until the palms of her hands could feel the glass door. The cold wind swirled around her and she swore she could feel the patio sway underneath her feet.
    â€œIt doesn’t make sense,” Platt said, startling her. She hadn’t noticed that he had come to the door. “If you’re going to jump, why bother to close the door?”
    â€œSometimes they’re beyond the point of making sense,” she told him as she edged her way back inside. Then she carefully closed the door using the same two-finger method. “The small stuff is still