ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS BOOK 1 by J.T. Ellison Read Free Book Online Page A

interest. Taylor gazed at the bed, stripped of sheets, bloodstains on either side of the mattress. The blood was ultimately matched to Susan Palmer, and there were fibers adhered to both the bed frame and the blood that came from a national brand of industrial-grade rope. The photos from the area Susan Palmer’s body had been found were also eerily familiar. Long saw grass obscured her body in the first few shots. Closeup pictures of her handless arms had attendant blowups, detailing the wounds. She absently noted that the photographer was wasting his life working for the police, he was adept at making the scene come alive. There was one inconsistency in the photos that caught her eye. She pulled out a magnifying glass and examined it. Tracing back through the report, she matched the numbered card to the line in the report. Number 38, unidentified vomit. Hmm. She tucked that tidbit away and went on.
    She opened the next file, immediately drawn to a picture of the victim. Jeanette Lernier had a wide smile and laughing eyes. She looked like someone Taylor would have enjoyed sharing an off-color joke with. Her animation bled through the photograph. Finally breaking the trance, she read through the rest of the report. Mind-numbingly similar, down to the close-up shots of the bloody stumps.
    She read through the witness statements. Jeanette’s family and friends adored the girl, that much was certain. People not so close to the family made a few disparaging remarks, accusing the girl of fast living. One mentioned she thought Jeanette was having an affair with a coworker, but supplemental reports didn’t address the issue. She made a mental note to ask Baldwin why.
    Finished with her perusal, she set to work doing the paperwork detailing the case of Jessica Ann Porter. She compiled a comprehensive murder book, pulling together all the reports from the various officers attendant to the crime scene. It was boring work, tedious but necessary. Even if the FBI swooped in and completely wrestled the case away from her, she wanted her diligence noted. She worked most of the day by herself. Lincoln and Marcus were both off, and Fitz was running the search for Shauna Davidson and gathering more information on the missing girl. At five o’clock, she decided to call it a day. She hadn’t heard from Baldwin but assumed he’d show up sometime in the evening or during the night. She didn’t need to be in his way right now, he’d have enough on his plate getting his own investigation under way. She brought the murder book with her, just in case.

Seven
    Taylor felt the hand slowly sweeping up the back of her thigh. She stretched languorously, burrowing her face deeper in her pillow. The hand drew closer and closer to her panties and she took a deep breath of anticipation. The shrill ring of the telephone brought her fully awake, as did the muttered curse of the man who belonged to the hand.
    “Damn, who’s calling this early?” growled Baldwin.
    “If I had to guess, I’d say work. Generally, no one calls me this early in the morning unless someone’s dead.” She slapped his hand away playfully, for despite the ringing phone, his fingers had not veered off course. She reached across the bed and picked up the phone, glancing at the caller ID. She was right. “Lieutenant Jackson here.”
    “Taylor, it’s Price.”
    Captain Mitchell Price didn’t usually call her at home unless it was absolutely necessary. She struggled to sit up, smashing a pillow behind her back so she’d at least sound like she was up and awake.
    “Good morning, Cap. What can I do for you?”
    “We’ve got a situation that needs to be handled.” It wasn’t like him to be so gruff. She could only imagine what could be wrong to have him snapping at her. She glanced out the window and saw that it was raining softly.
    “We’ve had another attack by the Rainman.” She could hear the strain in the captain’s voice. “It was his choice of victim that’s