The Blue Hour Read Online Free PDF

number and told him not to use it unless he had to. "Calls are on my
dime because the department's too cheap to give us our own phones. I put a fax
machine in the car myself, too. Anyway, I'll take the lagoon and I'll get your
branches. I need to see the dump sites again, too."
    He looked at her with
that hawk face and the sharp eyes and the jarhead haircut. This Hess was an odd
one.
    "When do you
want McNally and the dogs?" he asked.
    "Get them
started now. I'll be there later."
    "One more thing.
Make the outside cut first. On the branches."
    "I know."
    • • •
    She got a large coffee
with a lid and drove the big Impala into Costa Mesa. She set her Heckler &.
Koch 9mm on the seat beside her because it poked the inside of her left arm
when she drove. She liked to lower that arm to the rest and take the wheel at
twelve o'clock with her right and guide the car around with the effortless
power steering. She'd grown up watching her father drive the family car that
way. The only difference was that her father drove slow and Merci drove fast.
    The
makeup girl's address turned out to be a nice little house on the west side,
butted up against Newport Beach but still affordable for young people on small
salaries. Her name was Kamala Petersen and she lived with two of the other cosmetic
consultants she worked with. She'd been at the same mall the night Janet Kane
vanished, and she'd seen someone who disturbed her. She'd come forward when
Janet Kane was listed as missing. Merci had interviewed her two days ago,
briefly, and found Kamala to be excitable, flighty, unable to focus. But there
was something inside that Kamala Petersen wasn't letting out. Merci thought she
knew what it was, and she was determined to get it.
    Hypnosis
was a trade-off because you could get good results, but hypnotized subjects
can't testify in California criminal cases. Two of the district attorneys and
the undersheriff had advised against the session. Merci had weighed the risks
to her own satisfaction and decided that a suspect description outweighed the
loss of a possible witness. There would be other witnesses; she would locate
and subpoena them. She overruled. Merci mistrusted even the smallest of
democracies, which was why she wanted to be sheriff someday.
    Kamala
was a big-bodied, unpretty girl, with brown tightly curled hair and a truly
beautiful complexion. Rayborn thought she wouldn't mind having skin like that
but the upkeep didn't interest her. Plus she had a ding in her forehead from a
coffee table when she was three, and another one up by her hairline from
falling off a fence when she was six. They weren't so bad but if she tried to
make them over they just looked worse in her opinion
    Kamala couldn't shake
hands because her nail polish was drying. Merci said she'd rather not come
in—they'd better get going.
    "I'm kind of
nervous," said the girl, moving her hands in front of her like she was
playing an accordion.
    "It's
a snap."
    "Last time I was
hypnotized was at Magic Mountain and I thought I was Michael Jackson? The weird
part was he hypnotized us to not remember any of it, so I didn't? My mom had
to tell me what an idiot I made out of myself."
    "No
song and dance today, unless you feel compelled. Don't think about it. Pretend
we're going to the beach or something. I want your brain fresh and uncluttered
for Joan. Come on, let's go."
    The medical towers
were next to a big-screen theater. There were plenty of parking places and
Merci steered the Chevy to take up two spots under a magnolia tree.
    Dr. Joan Cash
welcomed them into her consultation room—a hug for Merci and a handshake for
Kamala. Merci had known Joan since college at Fullerton and considered her a
friend. She was a petite redhead with a spray of freckles across her nose and
cheeks. Five years ago Merci had recommended her to the department for
contract work, and the arrangement had been good for both parties: Joan got an
occasional job and the county got a good