Shadow Fall (Tracers Series Book 9) Read Online Free PDF

interested to know I recovered a shard of glass embedded in her left hamstring.”
    Glass was good, in Tara’s world. Glass might yield prints or DNA from the killer.
    “What kind of glass?” she asked.
    “I’m not sure. The Delphi Center crime lab might be able to help you on that count. I had it couriered over to them, along with the other trace evidence. Their forensic odontologist will be getting the films. And that”—he heaved a sigh—“is about all I can tell you until I pull my report together.”
    “Thank you.” She tried not to sound disappointed.
    “Also, I put in a phone call,” he said. “Mia Voss in the Delphi Center’s DNA lab is a top-notch analyst and a personal friend. I let her know the urgency surrounding this matter. I’m sure she’ll do her best to be quick.”
    He started to leave, but Tara stepped forward. “Just one more question. Is there anything in your findings that might”—she struggled for how to phrase it—“shed light on the perpetrator?”
    “Besides the obvious? That we’re dealing with someone exceedingly violent?”
    “That’s right. I’m talking about anything forensic. Anything that might give us an idea about who we’re looking for.”
    Greenwood bowed his head and looked at his feet. “You know, I posted two traffic fatalities last night, both sixteen-year-old kids texting and driving. Now this.” He gazed up at her, his look somber. “I can’t shed light on this for you. I wish I could. I can document her injuries and X-ray her bones and weigh her organs. But ultimately, she is a stranger to me.”
    TARA EYED THE sheriff’s units parked in front of the courthouse as she pulled out of the lot.
    “Well, I picked up some gossip,” M.J. said.
    “I knew you would.”
    M.J. had something Tara lacked: the gift of gab. It was a skill that came in useful during investigations.
    “One of the clerks said the pathologist was notified and put on the schedule last night,” M.J. said. “By Sheriff Ingram himself.”
    “Figures.”
    “So, anything from the doctor?”
    Tara filled her in, getting angrier by the minute as she recounted all the critical developments they’d missed by being shut out of the autopsy.
    She drove through downtown Cypress, passing the town square with the white gazebo in the center, the library, the VFW hall. It seemed like such a quaint Southern town, but Tara knew better, and so had Jacobs when he’d sent her here. Don’t let the yokels jerk you around.
    Tara tried to calm her temper. She had a problem with certain types of men, a problem that manifested itself as a tight knot in her chest that refused to loosen. It was a constant struggle for her to let go of all the crappy things she couldn’t control and focus on the things she could.
    She took a deep breath and tried to shake it off. She’d underestimated the sheriff. It wouldn’t happen again.
    Tara passed the Dairy Queen, whipped into a gas station, and pulled her old Explorer up to a pump.
    M.J. pushed open her door. “Think I’ll grab some coffee now that I’m not worried about losing my breakfast. Want any?”
    “No, thanks.”
    Tara popped open the gas tank and surveyed the town as she fueled up. GO VIPERS! read the Dairy Queen marquee. Across the street at the local hardware store, spirit signs decorated the windows.
    Tara studied the traffic—a mix of pickups and SUVs and logging trucks. She spied a few gas rigs, too, and remembered last night’s rotten-egg smell, which resulted from hydrogen sulfide being released during the production of oil and gas. Fossil fuels were more lucrative than timber, and Tara knew logging was becoming secondary to petrochemicals in this part of the state. And then, of course, there was the other cottage industry. Meth labs had been sprouting up like weeds, providing a steady source of income and misery throughout the region.
    M.J. came back. “Brought you a snack,” she said, holding up a pack of powdered-sugar