Midnight Rider. Joanna WayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
She checked the caller ID and then took the call. “This had better be of life-threatening importance, Rick Drummond.”
“Not life threatening, but I think you better get down to the morgue.”
“What part of ‘I’m on vacation with plans to sleep until noon every day’ do you not understand?”
“I get it. You’ve worked your gorgeous butt off the past few months. But I think you’ll want to see this.”
“I’ve seen dead bodies before.” Too many of them, which was why she needed a few well-deserved days off. A walk in a park or along the beach would do wonders for her state of mind. Time to read a book or visit friends would be heaven.
Her dad had warned her it would be like this.
“Just come down. No work involved. I really think you should see this.”
“Why is it so urgent I see this particular body?”
“Just get down here, Brit. I’ll buy you coffee and breakfast after.”
“A real breakfast. No coffee and doughnut on the fly.”
“Anything you want—under ten bucks, of course.”
“Splurging and secrecy. You’re starting to freak me out. I’ll be there as soon as I can throw on some clothes. Not work clothes. I’m on vacation, remember?”
“Hard to forget when you keep bringing it up every ten seconds. Come on up to Autopsy when you get here.”
Brit kicked off the top sheet and stretched her legs over the side of the bed. She went to the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water and brushed her teeth. After that she shed her nightshirt and wiggled into a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeved green T-shirt. A quick brush of her long hair and she was ready.
She’d go to the morgue but, no matter how interesting the case, she wouldn’t let Rick sway her to jump in. She really needed the time off. And not only to rejuvenate, but also to try to figure out where she’d gone wrong on a very important case.
The colder a case got the harder it was to solve. She’d been working on her father’s murder for three years without a decent lead. She had to be overlooking a key element. No murder was perfect.
Less than a half hour later, she was walking into the autopsy section of the morgue. The facilities were state-of-the-art and as familiar as her neighborhood grocery store, though the odors were far more unpleasant.
Her partner, Rick, was standing next to the gray examining table. Her favorite pathologist, Elise Laughton, was at the other side of the table and slipping out of her gloves.
“Looks like she put up a hell of a fight,” Elise said. “Evidently she was just no match for the strength of her attacker.”
“Cause of death?” Brit asked by way of greeting, determined to stick to the basics.
“You made good time,” Elise said, looking up.
“Traffic was light. And as you can see, I didn’t bother with makeup since I’m not sticking around long.”
Elise shared a concerned look with Rick and then looked back to her. “To answer your original question, the evidence includes new bruising on the hands and arms and having her throat slashed.”
Another morning in Houston. Not that all murders weren’t bad, but any detective in the department could handle this, including Rick. There had to be something more going on for him to call her in this morning.
“So start talking, Rick, and this had better be good.”
Rick frowned. “Take a look.”
Brit stepped closer for an unobstructed view of the body. An icy chill seeped deep inside her as she studied the victim.
She could have been staring into a mirror. The lifeless victim spread out on the cold metal slab looked exactly like her.
One Week Later
“How about passing that potato salad before Leif goes back for seconds and doesn’t leave any for the rest of us?” Travis joked.
“Look who’s talking,” Leif said as he handed down the serving bowl. “You’ve been hogging the platter of fried chicken like a starving man.”
“That’s ’cause I had him out baling hay all afternoon,” Adam said. “Nothing like a little ranch work to build up an appetite.”
“Save room for the apple pie à la mode,” Hadley said. “I made it myself and I’ll be insulted if there’s a bite left on a dish.”
“Ice cream!” four-year-old Lacy added. She pushed her plate back. “I want mine now.”
“Me, too,” R.J. said, “but I better clean my plate first. You better eat a few more bites of dinner, too.”
R.J. smiled and leaned back in his chair. There was a time not so many months ago that he’d have been sitting at this table all alone. Or passed out somewhere skunk drunk. Now he was alcohol-free, thankful to be surrounded by family. Best medicine in the world for a dying man.
He didn’t have much of an appetite these days, even though his daughters-in-law Hadley and Faith had become dadgum good cooks. His third daughter-in-law, Joni, was too busy being the best dang vet in the state of Texas to spend much time in the kitchen.
Besides, he suspected she might be pregnant. She’d turned green and rushed away from the breakfast table a couple of days ago and she’d developed a little swell in the belly. He wouldn’t ask. She’d tell them all when she was ready.
It had been over a year now since the neurosurgeon had given R.J. the death sentence. A malignant, inoperable brain tumor that would eventually take his life. For some miraculous reason, the tumor had decided to slow down a bit and give R.J. time to enjoy his family—the family he’d never bothered to get to know when he was drinking and carousing like the SOB he’d been for most of his life.
He’d given little thought to contacting his estranged kids until the grim reaper had looked him square in the eye and chuckled. But getting to know Adam, Leif and Travis and their families had given his life more meaning than he’d thought possible. Why, already there had been three weddings on the Dry Gulch Ranch. Fortunately, none of them his. Four weddings were enough for any one man.
Still, with each passing day, the longing grew stronger to connect with his other three children. So far, no luck there. His youngest son, Cannon, was either too resentful or too busy with his bull riding to give R.J. the time of day.
His daughter, Jade, was the baby of the family, though she was in her early twenties now. The only times he’d seen her was when she came to the ranch for the reading of the will. She hadn’t cared much for his requirement that a beneficiary would have to spend a year living on and helping work the Dry Gulch Ranch to get a share in his estate. Hadn’t seemed too pleased that he’d had the reading of the will while he was still breathing, either.
Had let him know it, too, in no uncertain terms. As feisty a hellcat as her mother had been. The ranch had never offered enough excitement for Kiki. Apparently it didn’t for their daughter, Jade, either.
And that left his oldest son, Jake, rich Texas rancher and oilman. The wealth inherited from his mother’s side of the family. Jake had everything a man could want. Fancy cars. Private jets. Gorgeous women half his age draped across him in every picture of him that appeared on the society pages of the Dallas Morning News.
Jake had moved on so far he couldn’t even see R.J. in his mind’s rearview mirror. No doubt his mother had done the same. Stupidest mistake R.J. had ever made was letting her walk away. He wondered what she was like now. He still pictured her as young and beautiful as she’d been at eighteen when they’d married. Best-looking