Shattered by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

years I’d been Chief of Police in Haversport, Illinois. I promoted her twice, as much for her expertise as for her wisdom and compassion. I had at least a fifty-fifty chance of not spending the night in jail with Mitch sitting in my judgment seat. Pretty good odds, considering.
    A crime scene technician knocked on my front door.
    “Okay.” I picked my purse up off the counter.
    “Okay, what exactly?” He finished packing up his gear and snapped his briefcase shut.
    “Shut up and take me to your leader. Before I change my mind.” I grabbed a black trench coat from the hall closet and walked to the front door, Nick’s hurried footsteps echoing behind me.

 
     
     
    After Nick got the tech team pointed in the right direction, we drove to the station in silence. My right hand was gripping the handle above the passenger door so hard I could’ve popped a bicep muscle. Inhaling deeply, I relaxed my hand, one finger at a time. “Are we there yet?”
    Nick snorted. “Welcome back. I thought I’d lost you for good. And just in time, too.”
    He eased into my station’s parking lot and pulled into a visitor’s slot near the entrance.
    “You do get that this is a lot harder on me than it is on you, right?” Was I joking with him or flirting? How many hours after finding my husband’s mutilated body? Sometimes I defied even my own low expectations of myself.
    “Great. Looks like we’ve got company. At this hour? What is it, after eleven? Coming up on midnight?” Nick stared at the foyer, tsking in disgust. Several dark shapes clustered near the door, faces all but pressed up against the glass. Someone pulled out a cell phone and pointed it right at our car.
    “Think the camera still adds ten pounds?” I got out of the car and headed to the bottom of the steps to wait for Nick.
    “Doesn’t matter, beautiful. It all looks great on you.” He put a hand on my shoulder.
    Was he trying to comfort or control me as we ascended the steps in front of the gathering crowd?
    I looked up into the foyer. Liz and Mitch stood in front of a small horde of cops and assorted people of the night. The tallest one grunted something at the others, jabbing his head in my direction, wolfish grin widening as he looked at me. Schlichting, my least favorite cop, already reveling in my distress. Figures. A balding guy sporting what looked like media credentials pointed a distressingly large camera at me. Old school .
    “Breathe, beautiful. Just breathe. And follow me.” Nick took the stairs ahead of me. I followed behind, mustering as much dignity as I could.
    “Un-frickin-believable.” I muttered at my salivating colleagues. News of my pending arrest must’ve spread like blood in the waters. Creeps . I scanned the crowd. Which of my thirty-seven colleagues would be counted for me, which against me?
    Mitch pushed the door open, nodding grimly at me. “Chief.”
    “Mitch.” Ribbons of molten lava hardened in my throat.
    Indistinct sounds bounced off the walls as we passed through the parted group of uniforms. Flashes illuminated me. Would the lighting show off my cheekbones or the dark puffs of color pooling underneath each eye? Nick took hold of my arm. I floated beside him, watching the surrealistic march from a corner of the room, near the ceiling-mounted security camera.
    Mitch appeared from behind us and pushed open the door that led away from our office suites. To the interrogation rooms. Great .
    She stopped at the largest room and ushered us in, then closed the door and walked away, her heels echoing down the hall. The three hundred square foot room was cleaner than usual, faint smells of bleach and antiseptic lingering in the dense air. The requisite wooden, rectangular table sat in the center, two chairs set up on one side, one chair with a notebook, pen, and tape recorder in front of it on the other. And three unopened bottles of water.
    We sat in silence for about thirty minutes before the door opened and Mitch stepped