White Sister Read Online Free PDF Page A

move back. Give the C . S . guys some room to work," Rafie said. He led me away from the BMW and back to their Crown Vic where Sepulveda was just hanging up the mike.
    "Anything else?" Rafie asked.
    "I left her at Parker Center around six. She said she was going to go visit the chief in the hospital before his surgery tomorrow. I was over at USC Medical on an unrelated matter but she never showed up. Her secretary said she was maybe going to try and fit in an appointment."
    "You know with who?" Tommy asked.
    "No. But you could ask Ellen in her office. Maybe she does."
    "Okay, what next?" Tommy said.
    "I went home. She wasn't there. Then you guys called."
    "Who's the rat-bag sitting in your car?" Rafie was looking over at my Acura.
    Bodine was still in the front seat. He had his head back, his dreads hanging over the headrest, eyes closed, zoning out. I'd stupidly left the keys in the car. Probably the only thing that was keeping Long Gone John from clouting my ride was he would have had to do it in front of ten cops.
    "That's Jonathan Bodine. He's a homeless guy. He has nothing to do with this."
    "Okay, Shane. That's it, then. If you think of anything else, write it down and leave it on my desk." "Right."
    "And if you try and work this, me and Tommy will break your back." "Right."
    "I'm serious, man. Mess with this and we're all headed for the zoo."
    "Gimme a little credit here. I'm not going near it."
    They exchanged looks, nodded, and then both moved slowly away from the car, treading on that questionable promise like thin October ice.
    Once they had stopped looking back at me, I got into my car and pulled away.
    "What we doin' now?" Bodine asked. I ignored him and drove past the commotion and found a spot around the bend where I pulled the car off the road and down into some trees. Then I killed the lights and turned off the engine.
    "We on some kinda dumb-ass camping trip here? What's this about, douche bag?" Bodine complained.
    "Shut up and stay in the car."
    I got out, taking the keys, grabbed my black mag-light from behind the seat and began to walk down the hill through dense foliage, making my way back toward the crime scene, using the underbrush for cover. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, or what I was hoping to find. I guess my plan was to look in the bushes below the site where the car was parked, hoping I wouldn't find my dead wife down there. My stomach was full of acid and I was fighting back waves of nausea.
    I kept the light on, but as I got nearer to the cops at the crime scene above, I took out my handkerchief and wrapped it over the lens, cutting the light down by two-thirds. Then I swung the dull beam right and left looking in the underbrush, praying I wouldn't find her. I don't know how long I walked around. Ten minutes, maybe thirty. I could hear cops talking above me on the road.
    Then, I shined my light to the right, and something glinted. I moved over and found myself looking down at a small, nickel - plated, 9mm foreign automatic.
    There was little doubt in my mind that it was the murder weapon. I also recognized the pistol. It was Alexa's purse gun. Her 9mm Spanish Astra.

    Chapter 5.
    I STOOD LOOKING at the gun, forcing myself to deconstruct the situation, analyze its components. I knew that if Alexa didn't turn up soon with a good explanation why there was a dead gang - banger handcuffed and executed with her weapon in her car, then she was going to be the number one suspect in the case.
    My first inclination was to scoop up the gun and suppress the evidence. I actually bent down and started to retrieve the weapon but as I reached for it, I knew I couldn't do it. My reasons were not very complicated. First, it violated everything I now tried to stand for. Second, it seemed to be an admission that deep down I actually thought she might be guilty of this, and I knew she wasn't. I hesitated with my fingers inches from the gun, then withdrew my hand.
    I also had practical evidentiary concerns.