Vodka Doesn't Freeze Read Online Free PDF

almost taking out a pot plant on a desk behind him.
     
'Exactly. So why even add that bit in there?' asked Jill, pensive. 'They've got something on him.'
     
She rocked back on her chair, its front legs in the air, her feet up on the desk. Scotty knew better than to tell her to be careful, sitting like that. The one time he'd tried, Jill had smirked at him and balanced the chair on just one leg, using a toe to steady herself as the chair swayed slightly, three of its feet in the air.
     
'And in both of these they also got no prints,' she read on, chewing her pen. 'Killer wore gloves; they got smooth glove marks from each crime scene. Don't you think that's unusual?' Jill and Scotty both knew that bashing deaths were usually crimes of passion or, more often, were committed by drunken youths in gangs. Gloves weren't typical in such cases.
     
'Yeah, well, we've got enough to do with Shitbag here,' said Scotty, indicating the murder book, pulling his hand through his thick blond hair. 'We've got a couple more fathers of his past victims to talk to. Could be one of them got sick of waiting for us to lock him up. And we've also got to interview that shrink, Dr Merris, who was treating Carter's daughters from his first marriage. She might have something to say about them or someone they're involved with. The oldest daughter, Hailey, is nineteen now.'
     
'Yep, okay.' Jill still felt distracted. She stared unseeingly at the flyspecked, dung-coloured wall of the squad room.
     
'Let's go get lunch, Jackson. I'm starving. I swear I'm gonna die if I don't eat soon.' Scotty half-lifted her from her chair with one arm.
     
'Yeah. You're fading away, fatso,' Jill laughed, woken from her reverie. She manoeuvred from his grasp, and in the same fluid movement aimed a roundhouse kick at his flat abdomen, deliberately just missing.
     
'Cut it out!' shouted their boss, Inspector Andreessen, as Scotty tried to lunge at Jill again, knocking over a chair as she easily sidestepped him. 'Go do some work for godsakes!'
     
Pushing each other through the office, Jill paused when she heard her name.
     
'. . . you watch. Everything will get buried with that Carter case anyway. Deviants like that always stick together. Jackson would think of him as part of the homosexual scene, like a brother.'
     
She stopped dead; blood suffused her face. She couldn't care less about Elvis spreading rumours that she was a lesbian, but she couldn't believe that he could even joke that she would somehow protect a paedophile. She didn't hear Scotty say her name, couldn't feel his hand on her arm. She didn't try to think of a comeback. Elvis had his back to her as he talked to two of his cronies, obviously aware that she was just then walking past. With no warning, she exploded into movement, shoulder-charging Calabrese. The heavy man sprawled forward, his gut connecting with a desk corner before he dropped to his knees, sucking air.
     
'Oh shit! Sorry, man,' Scotty offered his big hand to Elvis, who stayed where he was on the floor, his face black with rage. 'No really, sorry, man, and I'm sorry for pushing you like that, Jackson. Andreessen's right, we gotta stop mucking around.'
     
He steered Jill, who was standing rigid, out of the office.
     
'Just keep walking, Jill,' said Scotty tightly. 'You're gonna get a bullet in the head in some laneway one day, I swear.'
     

5
M ENTALLY EXHAUSTED , JILL was tired of fighting the nightmare that started rolling as soon as she slipped into sleep. She gave up trying and walked, eyes closed, down the hall towards her gym. She was used to nightmares, but they were so real lately; last night she'd woken screaming twice, her pillow sour with sweat.
     
Jill had spent two years after the kidnapping waking every night from these dreams. She'd stayed hidden in her home, her mother by her side day and night. She wouldn't sleep alone and stopped eating. She was racked by paralysing panic that left her hyperventilating and sure she