Shock Treatment Read Online Free PDF

impressive than the others. It was at least two stories tall, seventy-five-feet long, and looked big enough to house a decent-sized crime lab.
    Wonder who rates that one?
    The other four trailers were of less titanic proportions. Brass led her to a silver Airstream trailer a short hike away from the back door of the nightclub. A bored-looking uni was standing guard outside the trailer. An ambulance was parked nearby.
    Brass rapped on the trailer door. A young paramedic answered. A stethoscope hung around her neck. The name on her jacket was E XTON .
    â€œHow’s she doing?” Brass asked.
    â€œStill pretty shook up,” Exton said, “but not in shock. I gave her a mild sedative.” She shrugged. “Not much else I can do here.”
    â€œHad she been drinking?” Catherine asked. Alcohol was frequently a factor in accidental shootings.
    Exton shook her head. “She’s clean. Didn’t seem to be high either, although we didn’t test her for drugs. She said she hadn’t taken anything. I didn’t see any reason to doubt her.”
    Catherine trusted the paramedic’s assessment. You didn’t need to be drunk or high to be scared by a man with a chainsaw.
    â€œThanks,” Brass said. “We’ll take it from here.”
    Exton cleared out, and the investigators climbed into the trailer. They closed the door behind them to keep in the heat. Vinyl flooring led them past a built-in dinette and wardrobe. Sandwiches, popcorn, a vegetable platter, and a pot of coffee had been laid atop the dining table. Catherine was tempted by the coffee. It was looking like they had a long night ahead of them.
    They found Jill Wooten in a dressing room near the rear of the trailer, seated on a stool in front of a makeup table. An ambulance blanket was draped over her shoulders. Shaky hands clutched a cup of coffee. Model-pretty good looks showed through her obvious distress. Large green eyes were red from crying. Tearstains streaked her cheeks. Her makeup was a mess. A tight pink sweater was splattered with blood. Catherine put her in her early twenties, only a few years older than her daughter, Lindsey. A maternal instinct threatened to compromise Catherine’s objectivity, but she knew better than to see Lindsey in every troubled young woman she encountered on the job. That wasn’t good for anyone.
    â€œMs. Wooten?” Brass introduced himself and Catherine. “We have some questions we need to ask you.”
    Jill gave them a confused look. “But I already told a policeman what happened.”
    â€œWe need to hear it again,” Brass explained. “Aman is dead. We need to make sure we understand the circumstances.”
    She nodded. “I understand.” She sat up straight, bracing herself for the cop’s questions. Her voice was hoarse. “What do you want to know?”
    â€œWhy don’t you start at the beginning?” he suggested.
    â€œOkay.” She put down the coffee cup and took a deep breath before diving in. “I had a job interview tonight. My friend Debra told me they were hiring girls for the opening.” A worried look came over her face as she realized how that sounded. “Not for anything sexual. Nothing like that. Just to glam things up, you know?”
    Catherine understood the concept. “Got it. You were just supposed to be window dressing.”
    â€œThat’s right.” Jill sounded relieved at having that cleared up. “Anyway, when I got here, the front door was unlocked, but nobody seemed to be around. There was a light coming from the office, though, so I checked it out. That’s when I found that guy chained up in the torture thingie.”
    â€œWait a second,” Catherine interrupted. “There was a man in the iron maiden?”
    â€œUh-huh. An old guy with a gag over his mouth. I tried to call for help, but then that freak with the chainsaw came at me—” Her voice faltered