A Cold Dark Place by Gregg Olsen Read Free Book Online

frozen in their duties, digging through the debris, ferrying a body bag to the second
victim. Even the flashing lights atop the cruiser seemed to
become still. Her heart stopped, too. Out of the corner of her
eye, she saw something she didn't want to see.
    She knew they had to be there.
    Where else could they be?
    "Please, no," she said softly as the world started to crank
back into action, at first in a stop-start fashion like one of those old school filmstrips. Then faster. Then finally at normal speed.
She turned her attention to a chunk of drywall with some obvious blood spatter. It was about ten feet from where she
stood.

    "What is it?"
    The voice was Jason Howard's. The earnest deputy could
see that Emily was frozen in her tracks. Stiff. Intent on something in the remains of the house.
    "He's over there," she said, indicating the drywall.
    Jason walked closer, but didn't see what Emily had discovered.
    "Help me move this," she said. The pair bent over and
lifted the chalky board. It was like turning a rock at the beach
to see what might scurry out to get away from the exposure
of the light of day. Yet nothing moved.
    "It's Donovan, I think. Maybe Nicholas," she said. "I saw
the tips of his fingers"
    "Jesus, Detective," Jason said, remembering how touchy
Emily had been. The boy was in jeans and a button-down
shirt. Remarkably, he was intact. Even his face, which struck
Emily as resembling his mother's so much that it was disconcerting, was untouched. It was almost like he was asleep.
    "I know him," Jason said. "He's in my little brother's Cub
Scout troop. Nice kid."
    Emily waved the techies over. "Let's process this area as
best as we can and get a board over here and get him out of
here ""
    "He looks so peaceful," Jason said.
    Photo flashes ricocheted off the boy's pale skin. Two
coroner's employees hoisted him on to the stretcher, which
they had spread with a midnight-blue body bag. Handles for
easy transfer flapped in the wind.
    "Wonder if he died of internal injuries related to the storm,"
Jason added.

    Emily was wondering the same thing, but not for long.
The two coroner assistants, both young men from Spokane,
set the body on the bag and started zipping, working from
the feet toward Donovan's angelic face, white and calm.
    "What?" the younger of the two said to his partner, as his
gloved fingertips slipped from the zipper.
    "Your hands are covered in blood," Emily said. "Where
did all that come from?"
    She stared at the dead boy.
    "Roll him over."
    "We'll look at him in the lab," the other said.
    "You'll roll him now."
    "Not protocol, sorry."
    "Maybe you don't hear too well up in Spokane," she said,
almost amused with herself that she'd now felt more of a
kinship with the tiniest of law enforcement operations.
    "This is our scene, my scene, and you'll follow my orders"
    "Someone's cranky." It was Sheriff Brian Kiplinger, lumbering his meaty frame across the debris field. Emily and
Jason were so involved with what they were doing that neither had heard him arrive. He just appeared in the morning
light.
    Emily acknowledged her boss with a nod.
    "Someone hasn't had a good night's sleep for I don't
know how long," she answered. She shifted her weight and
waited for the sheriff to blast her, but he didn't.
    "Tell me about it." He fixed his steely eyes on the coroner's assistant with the bloody glove and the bad attitude. "I
was speaking to him"
    The young man sank into the mud.
    "I'm trying to preserve the evidence." He was embarrassed and defensive.
    "What evidence? This is a goddamn disaster zone. If the lady ... If my chief detective wants to see the backside of
this kid, she's gonna"

    The chief was a nice save from the "lady" comment. She
was the only detective in the office.
    It flashed in the young man's mind to roll his eyes, but he
refrained. Instead he rolled the body to the side.
    "Good enough?" He fought once more to suppress a
smirk. Lucky for him, his effort