Watch Me Die Read Online Free PDF

ice clinking as she tilted the glass. “He was laid off recently. A part of me is angry about that. He worked for that company for sixteen years. And after all that service, after losing his only son, they lay him off?” She shook her head. “But God has a plan, doesn’t he? And I have to trust that plan will take us somewhere good.”
    She laughed self-consciously. “I see by your expressions you think I’m either addled by grief or terribly naïve.”
    Malone shook his head. “Hardly, Mrs. Thibault. Truth is, I wish I could believe like that.”
    She smiled slightly. “I wish you could as well, it’s a wonderful feeling. I’ll pray for you, Detective.”
    Malone glanced at Bayle and found her looking at the woman both with longing and as if she were some strange, mythical creature. Totally foreign yet intriguing. He wondered what Bayle clung to that she desperately wished she could let go of.
    “Your husband,” Malone reminded her. “We need to ask him a few questions.”
    “Of course. I’ll get him.”
    She returned after a couple minutes—without her husband. She waved them over. “Follow me.”
    Her husband sat in a computer chair in what had obviously been his son’s room. All the furniture had been moved away from the walls, toward the center. Drop cloths covered the floor and some of the furniture. On the walls was a fresh coat of a buttery lemon color.
    “She’s painted his room,” he said. “It doesn’t smell like him anymore.”
    “Mr. Thibault. I’m Detective Malone and this is Detective Bayle, NOPD.”
    “I know who you are. Joy told me.”
    “We need to ask you a few questions.”
    The man didn’t respond, so he went on. “Are you aware that early Tuesday morning someone vandalized the Sisters of Mercy sanctuary windows? And that person also murdered Father Girod?”
    “I heard about it.”
    “Where were you Tuesday night, Mr. Thibault?”
    “Here.”
    “Home?”
    “No,” he corrected. “Here. In Timmy’s room.”
    “May I see your hands, Mr. Thibault?”
    He held them out. They shook slightly. That amount of spray painting would have left quite a bit of residue on the fingers, under the nails and nail beds. It would have been near impossible to remove all traces, even with solvent.
    Malone inspected them carefully. They were clean.
    “I didn’t do it. I wish I had. Maybe I’d feel better.”
    “You don’t mean that, Earl.”
    He looked at his wife, expression naked with pain. “Don’t tell me what I mean, you don’t know.”
    Malone glanced at her wounded expression. She did know, he thought. And was living in her own private hell.
    “We understand that you blamed Father Girod for your son’s death.”
    Earl let out a deep, shuddering sigh. “Sometimes it helps to blame someone else.”
    “Why’s that, Mr. Thibault?”
    “Because for those moments, you stop blaming yourself.” He started to cry, silently, his shoulders shaking.
    Malone looked at Bayle and shook his head. There was no rage here, only grief.
    “Thank you, Mr. Thibault. We’re sorry to have bothered you.”
    He didn’t respond and Joy Thibault walked them out. When they reached the door, Malone turned to her. “I hate to ask you, but could I see your hands?”
    Silently, she held them out. Lemony flecks dotted her hands, wrists and forearms. Otherwise, they were clean.
    “Would you and your husband agree to being fingerprinted? We would be able to officially eliminate you both as suspects.”
    She looked surprised but nodded. “Anything that would help.”
    He thanked her and they headed to the car, not speaking again until they were buckled in. Bayle shifted into Drive and pulled away from the curb.
    She glanced at him. “You and Stacy plan on having kids?”
    “After that, I’m leaning toward not.”
    “The world is so effing screwed up.”
    “Little Miss Sunshine.”
    “You disagree?”
    “I prefer to remain hopeful.”
    “Like Mrs. Thibault back there.”
    He looked at Bayle,