Unspeakable Read Online Free PDF Page B

her thirtieth birthday—
use it or lose it.
John McCord was an encyclopedia of clichés. As a child, Elaina had collected the shopworn sayings like prizes from a cereal box, hoping to gain some kind of insight into her taciturn father’s personality.
    Elaina let her feet slow as she neared yet another sign: TEXAS BIRDING TRAIL . She glanced around but saw no birds—just steep white sand dunes and the endless line of waves attacking the coast.
    She scaled the nearest dune for a better vantage point. She ended up with sand in her Nikes and grit clinging to her calves, but the view up top was worth it. Dunes stretched out as far as she could see, and marshes and sky and water. Her hotel and the rest of Lito formed a hazy outline on the northern horizon. Between her vantage point and the town, she saw only a lone fisherman wading near shore and a few squat camping tents.
    Solitude.
    At least the best someone was likely to find on this island.
    Not a bad place to dump a body.
    Elaina’s gaze shifted to the bay side of the island, where a vast labyrinth of grasses and waterways rippled in the morning breeze.
    He
had
to have a boat.
    How else could he transport his immobilized victims to dump sites so far off the road? Like Gina Calvert and yesterday’s victim, Mary Beth Cooper had been found in a remote marsh, albeit across the bay.
    If Elaina had nailed one aspect of the profile, that was it. The killer had a boat.
    And if she could find that boat, she could find him.
    Troy had his eyes shut and his feet propped on Elaina’s patio table when he heard her jog up from the beach. Those soft panting sounds made his blood stir even before her shadow fell over him.
    “What are you doing here?”
    He opened his eyes and saw just what he’d expected: a flushed, pissed-off woman.
    “Waiting for you.”
    She scowled and glanced at her sports watch. An Ironman. It went well with her spandex top and running shorts, both of which were soaked through.
    “How’d you know I was out here?” She leaned a hand flat against the glass door and yanked off a sneaker. Sand cascaded to the concrete.
    “I checked.” He watched as she emptied the other shoe.
    “You checked.”
    “I told you, that lock’s a joke.”
    She eyed him hotly, and he could tell she didn’t believe he’d actually let himself into her room.
    He tipped his chair back to enjoy the view. Long, slender legs. Ebony hair, pulled back in a ponytail. All of it covered by a thin sheen of sweat.
    “Listen, Mr. Stockton—”
    “That’s Troy.”
    “I don’t have time for this. I’m late, and I told you, I’m not talking to reporters, so—”
    “No, you’re not.”
    “What?”
    “You’re not late. You already missed it. The autopsy happened last night.”
    He watched the shock come over her face, next the anger.
    “You
knew
about this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “I found out this morning. State pathologist showed up around nine last night. They worked on her for a good four hours. Sent everyone home around one-thirty. Breck and Cisernos are probably still sound asleep, dreaming about all the shit crabs can do to a corpse.”
    Her cheeks flushed redder. “Is this a joke to you?” She flung a shoe across the patio, and he realized that last comment had been a mistake. He’d meant to needle her, not disrespect the victim.
    The second shoe landed with a
clop
beside the door and Elaina sank into a chair.
    Troy took his feet down from the table and sat up.
    “Great.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose and seemed to be talking to herself. “Scarborough’ll have me piloting a desk Monday morning. How can I contribute to an investigation when the lead detective won’t even talk to me?”
    He watched her, weighing the pros and cons of bringing her in. Pro, she was a fed, meaning resources and connections. Con, she was a fed, meaning red tape and other bullshit he didn’t want to deal with. Plus, she wasa
she,
which wasn’t going to win her any brownie points