Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“I do not approve of you, Agent Mendez,” Leonard announces.
“Then I must be doing something right.”
“Special Agent Love-Mendez,” Jack corrects, stepping to my side.
Jack’s a creepy stalker, but my protector, and I’ll forgive the name correction based on his intent. I don’t know for sure, but I might be coming to like him but I’ve had this thought before and then he did something ridiculous.
Leonard grunts and stalks away a bit heavily for the floor that’s basically a crime scene.
“He’s an arrogant prick,” Jack says. “And I’ve never known an arrogant prick that wasn’t dirty.”
“You think he’s dirty?”
“Something’s off with him. I’ll go get the team ready.” He heads out of the room, his steps delicate, respectful of the crime scene and I decide Jack says a lot of stuff that sounds stupid, but is usually a pathway to something brilliant. This time, he skipped the stupid and went straight to brilliant, but I can’t worry about Leonard now.
I glance up at the deceased. He’s tall. Blond. His hair is short, straight, and thick. He was almost too thin, but nothing a protein shake and a gym couldn’t fix. “Who did this to you? And why take your hands?” My brows dip. Did he steal from someone, for instance the mob, who either my father or Pocher stole from as well and this is a warning? Or even, and perhaps more likely, considering he should still occupy the mansion, the current governor?
I’ve spent my entire time in this room, studying my John Doe though and there’s no real time to find my zone. With the team headed this way, I step around the body and survey my surroundings. The furniture is as castle and throne as is the exterior of the house. The furniture is elegant and wildly expensive, the couch tan Italian leather, while an accent, oversized matching chair sits closest to the body. I walk to it and squat to find what looks like splatter marks, the same liquid that is on the floor. I rotate, the carpet squishing beneath my feet, my gaze studying the carpet. I shift left and then right and determine that despite us walking in and out of the room, there are heavier indentations in the carpet leading to the window. And it’s a big window nearly floor-to-ceiling and two feet wide, from what I can tell from the navy curtain that is presently closed.
He brought the body in through the window and there was no dragging involved. There would be marks and mess so yes, this is a “he.” Maybe even two men. It’s simply a fact that a body this big and dead doesn’t get carried in by a woman, even a very big, strong woman. Some men could not pull it off. I can stab and kill big men, but I leave the heavy lifting of dead things to Kane. I suddenly sense another presence and I push to my feet to find Pocher standing in the doorway looking pale and sick, as if a dead body actually bothers him.
I’m not buying it.
“Why are you here, and not locked down upstairs?” I demand, thinking the fuckery that is the FBI now is a joke. Maybe I do need to join Homeland. Or go on my own.
“We have a problem.”
“I get that, Pocher. Again, why are you not locked down?”
“No one has locked us down, but focus, agent. I’m excessively aware that I can’t leave, thus why I say, we have a problem.”
“What, Pocher? What is the problem?”
“Enrique called me because you aren’t answering your phone.”
“What the hell? No, I do not answer my phone while surveying dead bodies. What could be that important?”
“He arrived to your father’s place to rejoin his security detail. He found the governor and your father in a heated argument with Kane trying to mediate.”
Mother Mary and Jesus, and while I’m not religious I believe in God and the devil, but feel me and Kane are probably doomed to hell. Kane’s Catholic so I make a cross on my chest for the obvious reason. He’s officially beat me to hell.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jack appears in the archway with two members of the forensics team.
Pocher reacts and backs up, but not in time to escape the wrath of Jack, who scowls at him, waggles a finger, and then points toward the lobby. Jack might not know where Pocher is supposed to be, but he clearly knows it’s not here. And that’s on Leonard who obviously did not take control of the potential witnesses upstairs.
Any one of them could be the killer.
The forensics team is now setting up a secure entry and exit point, including an area to dump our boots and clothes. I need to get to my father’s place, but the next time I come here the body will be with the coroner. With this in mind, I don’t allow myself to rush out of here. I allow myself one last inspection of the victim, and I’m glad I do. The stiffness of his face is easing. In other words, he’s past maximum rigor. He’s been dead more than twelve hours. The question for me is how long has he been here and I hope like hell there’s camera footage that tells me.