Storm Season Read Online Free PDF Page A

the young man’s expression far away.
    M.C. got that. To stay sane, you did what you had to.
    Frances hadn’t made the first cut. “I wanted you to see this before I went any further.”
    “You’re thinking it’s a game-changer?”
    “Maybe.”
    Frances Roselli was a cautious man. Meticulous. A maybe from him spoke volumes.
    He motioned his assistant. They tipped up the body. There it was, a crescent shaped bruise in the middle of her back. An ugly purple, it stood out in bold contrast to the ghostly white of the skin around it.
    Kitt looked at M.C. “What could have caused this?”
    M.C. bent for a better look. Dark. Almost black. The outline clear. She frowned. It would have taken a vicious blow or intense, localized pressure.
    She looked at Frances. “No other scratches or bruises?”
    “Nothing other than what we discussed at the scene.”
    “You have a theory?”
    “I do, indeed, Detectives. If you’ll indulge me, I have a prop.”
    Frances retrieved a plastic bag. Inside was a man’s shoe. Thick sole, sturdy heel.
    “Imagine our Ms. Bello, face down, partially in the water. How she ended up in that position we don’t know. But I believe she wasn’t alone. I believe her companion placed his foot here--”
    He illustrated with the shoe. The outside edge of the heel mirrored the crescent shape of the bruise.
    “Son of a bitch,” M.C. said.
    “The fact the bruise is localized and darker along the outside edge,” Frances went on, “makes sense.”
    Kitt agreed. “The riverbank sloped down. His weight was on his heel, so he didn’t fall in himself.”
    “Which explains her hands,” M.C. said. “She fought, tried to claw her way out.”
    “Exactly." Frances and his assistant repositioned the body on the table. “Is it enough to classify her death a homicide?  No. But it’s enough to raise doubts this was an accident.”
    M.C. thought of Erik. “Which means drugs may or may not have been part of the equation. I want that tox report now.”
    “Two weeks, Detective. You know the drill. But autopsy will offer us more information. Give me a couple hours with her, I’ll see what I can uncover.”
    The moment they exited the morgue, M.C. dialed Erik. As before, she got his voicemail. “Call me back,” she said. “I have news about Whitney.”
    She hung up to find Kitt watching her. “It’s going to be okay.”
    “Is it?”
    Kitt grinned. “Want to take out your nerves on someone deserving?”
    “Bello’s boyfriend?”
    “You’re reading my mind, partner. That prick was holding back, let’s exert some pressure.”
    M.C. offered to drive and as they eased out of the parking garage, M.C.’s cell went off. She hit the hands-free. “Riggio.”
    “This is Sanchez, from communications. We just got a call-in from a Parks and Recreation employee. Vehicle abandoned in Anna Page Park, engine running.”
    “We’re Violent Crimes, Sanchez. Try Field Services.”
    “Lieutenant Bell said to call you first, that you’d want this.”
    She and Bell had worked together before he’d been promoted to head of communications. M.C. frowned. “He say why, Sanchez?”
    “Negative, Detective. Just wanted me to tell you the vehicle’s registered to one Erik Sundstrand, National Avenue, Rockford.”

10:50 a. m.
    THE SIGHT OF ERIK’S JEEP, driver’s side door open, engine running, nearly brought her to her knees. M.C. slammed out of her Explorer and crossed to the responding officer.
    “Detective Riggio,” she barked out, stopping directly in front of him. “Talk to me."
    He was young and looked nervous at having a detective in his face that way. He shifted his gaze from her to Kitt, then back. “Got the call from the park ranger. Came in about two hours ago. Found the vehicle, open and running. He called out, searched the immediate area, checked the closest restrooms. No sign of the vehicle’s owner."
    “Have you touched anything?”
    “Negative. Took a visual survey of the interior and