Sole Witness Read Online Free PDF Page B

would
notice the dead rap star looked mysteriously like guy in the posters plastered
over all the walls.”
    “Bullet to the face. Besides,
there could’ve been something else in the wallet. We don’t know because we
don’t have the wallet.”
    “Carver–”
    A tidal wave of low wolf calls
swept through the room. Conversation ceased, then continued in louder, faster
tones. He knew without turning to the window what he would see.
    “Hamilton,” Carver cooed with a
smirk, crunching her cough drop between her teeth. “Looks like your one o’clock
is here.” She grinned and made fish faces.
    Davis glared at her. He stood to
face the glass.
    And then there she was.
    High, strappy sandals. Long,
skinny skirt. Some sort of flowy top. Slender neck. Perfect face obscured by
massive movie-star sunglasses. Who wears sunglasses indoors?
    And that long, silky hair he
loved so much, gone. Instead, her locks tumbled in a sexy, tousled shag.
Different look, same effect. His body tightened in response, although whether
to memory or reality, he didn’t know.
    He sure didn’t need a leggy
blonde to screw things up. Not his case, not his life, and not his otherwise
clear thinking.
    “I’m going to take her into
Interrogation Room One. You can watch through the glass.”
    Carver smirked. “Whatever.”
    Davis crossed to the doorway and
stepped into the main antechamber. With one pointed look, junior officer Bock
made a beeline for Lori’s side.
    Man. Had they truly not spoken
since high school?
    She’d been so creative, so wild,
so fun. She’d smelled like flowers and cheap shampoo and grinned at him
constantly.
    Now she looked like money and
expensive perfume, just like Juliana, his high-society mistake. Lori had never
been pretentious and full of herself before, but she hadn’t been rich and
famous before, either.
    People changed.
    *          *          *
    Noon had come and gone. She
should have been here hours earlier… and she might have, if it weren’t for
sleep evading her until just before dawn.
    Lori stood inside the entranceway
to collect her breath and her thoughts for a moment. She tugged open the large
glass door, stepped inside, then sagged against the cool concrete wall.
    No. She couldn’t breathe. It was
just like Daddy’s precinct.
    Pungent bleach, fast-food
hamburgers and forgotten dust mixed in the recycled air. White, textured walls.
Blinding fluorescent lights. Tile floor, scuffed and stained. Phones ringing.
Handcuffs clinking. Voices. Laughter. The screech of rusty file cabinets.
    Lori closed her eyes and willed
herself to forget.
    “Miss?” came a hesitant male
voice.
    With a sudden swallow and a jerk
of her head, Lori focused on the young uniformed officer eyeing her as if she
were a wild animal. His nametag introduced him as Jim Bock. Lori nodded and
thrust out her hand.
    “Officer Bock, I’m–”
    “Lori Summers. I know.” He shook
her hand as though it were made of delicate porcelain. “I’ve still got that
Swimsuit Edition from two years ago. Awesome to meet you.”
    Great. That wasn’t an awkward
conversation opener, or anything. Lori glanced around the open area and gulped.
    The two female cops were eyeing
her curiously, but all seven of the men—three in cuffs, four in uniform—stared
at her as though practicing x-ray vision. Lori extricated her hand from the
officer’s loose grip and forced her features into a smile.
    “I was asked to come in today
because I called in what sounded like gunshots at Tommy Turner’s studio.”
    “Oh, it was definitely gun shots.
What were you doing there, anyway?”
    The expression on the young
officer’s face broadcasted his belief that she’d been there to add herself to
Tommy’s gaggle of groupies.
    Much as Lori didn’t want people
thinking she made a practice of having sex with rap stars, claiming she’d shown
up to get an autograph sounded equally lame. Even Tommy hadn’t believed her.
Why would the cops be any