The Alvarez & Pescoli Series. Lisa JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
own detrimental brew. “Just a sec.”
“With lemon and honey.”
“We don’t have—”
“Fine.” One arched eyebrow lifted a fraction further as Grace said, “Plain will do. Herbal would be better….” Then catching the skepticism in Alvarez’s gaze, she amended her request. “Anything will be fine.”
“Good.” Alvarez scooted her chair back, walked through the door. It shut behind her as she met Pescoli in the hall outside.
“I heard,” Pescoli said, rolling her eyes. “What does she think this is, damned Starbucks?”
“She’s Grace Perchant,” Alvarez said, as if that explained everything.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get her tea. I hate to agree with Chandler but it’s hell to think Grace and Ivor might be our star witnesses in this case.”
If it ever gets to trial, Alvarez thought and hated herself for her doubts as Pescoli headed down the hall toward the break room. Alvarez slipped back inside. “It’ll be just a couple of minutes.” She slid into her chair. “You were telling me about being out there at September Creek.”
Grace nodded, her graying blond hair moving against her shoulders as if it was nothing to be hiking through a blizzard.
“It was below freezing and snowing,” Alvarez said.
“Bane needed to go out.” Grace shrugged. “He’s part wolf; the cold doesn’t bother him. We take that route along the creek every other day or so.”
“What about you? Doesn’t the cold weather bother you?”
“Sometimes.” Grace looked directly at the mirror, as if she could see the sheriff and FBI agents beyond. “It’s often a situation of mind over matter.”
“Did you see anyone else out there?”
Grace shook her head. “No. As you pointed out it was freezing.”
“No other cars?”
Sighing, Grace folded her hands over the metal top of the table and leaned closer, her eerie eyes focusing hard on Alvarez. “If I told you what I saw out there you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
Her face was calm and without the least bit of guile. “Don’t patronize me, Detective. You know about me, that I see spirits.”
“And there were spirits out there?”
“They’re everywhere.” She smiled, her thin lips twisting a bit. “They don’t mind the cold.”
Was Grace for real?
“Did your dog act strangely? As if he saw anything?”
“He sniffed around, but no more than usual.”
There was a soft knock on the door and Alvarez opened it to find Joelle on the other side. She held a Styrofoam cup of hot water, a tea bag steeping within.
“We only had Earl Gray,” she said. “I think Grace likes those herbal calming ones that they serve over at the Java Bean, but we don’t have anything like that.” Joelle appeared worried, little lines threading between her eyebrows. Her glossed lips, the same exact shade as her jacket and slacks, pulled into a tight knot.
“It’ll be fine,” Alvarez said. “It’s only one cup. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll get over it.” She took the steaming cup from Joelle’s reluctant fingers and slipped back into the stark room.
Grace took a small sip and didn’t complain.
Good thing.
With a little prodding Grace told Alvarez the same story she had earlier, nearly verbatim. She hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary other than the wrecked car in the creek bed. “We were walking along the ridge road, and I could see it in the ravine.”
“You were on the road above?”
“Yes, and I saw the point where the car had gone over the edge, so I hurried back to the house and called. Fortunately the phones were still working. Then I tried to get back to the car myself, to get down the embankment and see if anyone was inside, but the deputy arrived before I did, coming in from the other side. He was in the area, I guess.”
That was right. So far so good. “So you can’t tell us anything else?”
“If I could I would,” Grace said simply, though her eyes darkened incredibly, her pupils widening as she stared at the detective.
Alvarez felt as if a cold, dark wind blew through her soul and it was all she could do to hold Grace’s stare and not look away. “Well…if you think of anything, let us know.” She pushed back her chair to end the interview. Quick as lightning, Grace reached across the table, knocking over Alvarez’s near-empty cup. Strong fingers wrapped around the detective’s wrist. “You’ll find him,” she vowed as the detective instinctively reached for her sidearm.
Concern etched the ghost whisperer’s face and Alvarez let her hand fall from her pistol. “Of course we will.” She carefully pulled her wrist away from Grace’s cold grasp. “The son of a bitch won’t get away with this.”
“What? The man the police are looking for? He’s not who I was talking about,” Grace said, her eyebrows elevating a fraction.
“Then…what?” Alvarez asked, but she knew, deep in her heart, that this woman to whom she’d never before spoken, could see into the darkest reaches of her heart.
“Don’t despair,” Grace said with a calm that Alvarez found eerie. “You’ll find him.”
From the other side of the one-way mirror Pescoli nearly dropped her cup of coffee. She’d been on her way to the door when Grace had grabbed Alvarez, but the sheriff had held her back.
“It’s okay,” he said, and she’d waited, watching the weird scene unfold. “What the hell was that all about?”
“With Grace,” Grayson said, staring through the one-way mirror, “you never know.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph. First Ivor I’ve-been-abducted-by-aliens Hicks as a critical witness, and now a wolf-woman who speaks with ghosts.” Pescoli crushed her coffee cup in her fist and threw it into an almost-full trash can. “You know, Sheriff, I hate to say it, but I’m thinkin’ the odds are stacked against us.”
“Sleeping Beauty my ass.” Jillian glared at the man she’d decided was more her captor than savior.
He must’ve been six feet one or two and, bulked up in his ski gear, he looked all the more massive.
And strong.
And formidable.
At his side stood a black-and-white long-haired dog, some kind of spaniel mix, hackles stiff and raised. Its head was down, dark menacing eyes sparking with distrust.
“Is that dog going to attack me?”
“Not unless you come at it with the crutch.”
She considered putting the metal crutch down, but hearing the dog growl, decided against it.
“Just control him.”
“Not an animal lover?” His face was still hidden by the ski mask, but something registered in his movement, the easy manner as he turned to the dog. Amusement? Cruelty?
“Not if the animal is acting as if it wants to tear out my throat.”
“Harley? Hear that? Stand down.”
The dog growled.
“Great control.”
“Sit!” he said sharply and the dog placed his back end on the plank floorboards. But he didn’t let Jillian out of his sight.
“Better?”