Evidence of Murder by Lisa Black Read Free Book Online

orange carpeting but found only a few Ecstasy tablets and one well-smoked marijuana roach. A few violent drawings accompanied his sporadic note taking during classes, but no letters or journals turned up and only a few phone numbers, which Frank would run down. Jacob had apparently spent his days playing video games, reading comic books, and not listening to his mother.
    “His father left for good two years ago, but he never had been around much,” his mother, Ellen, had wearily described from the doorway as she watched them work. A tough life had leached away muscles and fat and left a bit of padded skin over bones. Theresa had at least six inches and more pounds than she wanted to think about on the poor woman. “I just never
got
Jacob. I tried tough love, but as hard as I could be on him, he could say much harsher things to me. I tried talking about his feelings—he ignored me. When I tried restricting his video games, he broke into my room as soon as I went to work and got them back. I got tired of—when he
did
speak, which wasn’t often, he just wouldn’t give me a kind word. Ever.”
    One of the advantages of cases involving teenagers had to be that Rachael suddenly became an angel by comparison. Theresa decided to tell her so that evening.
    Her phone beeped. A text message, a form of communication she had not yet grown accustomed to—typing on a teeny number pad required too much patience and she couldn’t bring herself to use the shorthand devised by the young and hip. Chris Cavanaugh, the hostage negotiator who had handled the armed-robbery standoff that had killed Paul and nearly herself, had sent a message:
Can you meet me for lunch?
    As if on cue, her stomach grumbled. With one thumbnail, she punched out:
No
.
    She tucked the phone neatly back into its clip on her belt. Then she picked up a baseball glove, nearly hidden under a pile of black T-shirts. “Did he play at the diamond there, the one the path led to?”
    Ellen shook her head. “Not since he was little. His father liked baseball. Never played with him, of course, but liked it.”
    Theresa looked around. “I don’t see a bat.”
    “He lost that years ago.” The words caught in her throat and came out as a mangled sob. “He lost everything, years ago.”
     
     
     

Chapter 5
     
FRIDAY, MARCH 5
     
     
    Jillian Perry’s body was found at approximately 8:00 on Friday morning.
    Don came down to the amphitheater to tell her, and also to help with Jacob Wheeler. The kid had now thawed out enough for her to remove the clothing and unclench his fists, one of which held a piece of colored paper. As with the dead woman from the Cultural Gardens, Theresa hung his clothes to dry thoroughly before taping. His wallet contained a credit card with his neighbor’s name on it, apparently stolen from his mail earlier that month. That, along with the iPod in his pocket, ruled out robbery. The scrap in his fist, about an inch square, had been ripped from the corner of a sheet of paper with colored graphics on both sides, but without any handy notations like a phone number. Jacob did not have a cell phone—couldn’t afford one, and neither could his mother, hence her return to the house to call 911.
    It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Not every problem could be helped by instant communication.
    Theresa took the county station wagon to Edgewater Park. This time Leo did not insist on sending Don as well, so Theresa arrived, alone, just before nine.
    “I hate to say I told you so,” Frank began.
    “Good.” She carried her camera bag and two heavy equipment cases, stepping carefully over the ice-slick walkway. “Don’t.”
    “But I told you so.”
    “No you didn’t.” A young patrolman took one of the cases from her and she smiled her surprised thanks. “You said
if
she was dead, then the pimp killed her.”
    Frank waved one hand and led the way along the paved walkway, which continued up a steady incline. Trees lined one side, the white and