Betrayal of Trust by J. A. Jance Read Free Book Online Page B

reached out to help her up, but she waved aside my hand and rose from her kneeling position without any help from me. Preoccupied with Marsha, neither of us heard the sound of other feet on the stairs or on the worn rug in the hallway.
    â€œWho are you and what are you doing in my room?” Josh Deeson demanded from the doorway. “And what have you done with my artwork? Those pictures are mine. Give them back.”
    He was a tall, scrawny, blond blue-eyed kid with spiked hair and a terminal case of acne. He looked more like a geek than a Goth. No black clothing. No visible piercings. His pants—ordinary jeans—were belted around his waist, not worn gangbanger style, riding down somewhere near the bottom of the butt. He wasn’t wearing an oversize hoodie or sweatshirt as some kids do regardless of the weather. He wore a light blue short-sleeved buttoned shirt; ready-made and most likely from somewhere like Nordy’s. It was exactly the kind of shirt I had always lusted after back when my mother was making mine.
    He wore no jewelry of any kind, including that Seiko his grandfather had given him.
    With his hands outstretched, he lunged toward Mel, probably intent on grabbing the artwork out of her hand. I leaped forward and cut him off.
    â€œWe’re police officers,” I told him. “We have a search warrant.”
    Bristling with anger, he stopped a foot or so away from me and gave me a cold stare. He was tall enough that he nearly looked me in the eye. For a moment he glanced around the room, looking first at the bed with its displaced mattress and then at the desk.
    â€œWhere’s my computer?” he wanted to know. “Where’s my printer?”
    â€œThey’re in an evidence box,” I explained. “You’ll have a receipt for everything we take with us. As I said, we have a search warrant as well as your grandmother’s permission. That document applies to your room here as well as to both your computer and your cell phone.”
    â€œShe’s not my grandmother!” Josh Deeson said. He spat out the words with enough venom that it was instantly clear there was no love lost between him and the governor, not in either direction.
    Marsha seemed to have recovered her equilibrium. “These are police officers, Josh. They’re investigating a homicide. You need to let them continue searching your room. Come downstairs with me. I’ll call an attorney.”
    â€œI’m not going downstairs,” Josh declared. “And I don’t need an attorney.”
    â€œYes, you do,” Marsha insisted. “You can’t stay in the same room with these people, Josh. You mustn’t talk to them.”
    â€œSure,” Josh said. “Like I can’t talk to them without an attorney present, the way they say on TV. Give me a break.”
    I waited to see if he would crack and do as he was told. If he played to type, I knew for sure his teenage resentment and arrogance would work against him just as it would work in our favor. For the space of almost a minute no one moved in the room and no one spoke.
    Marsha was the one who finally broke the long silence. “Are you coming or not?”
    â€œNot,” he said.
    â€œVery well,” she said. “I’m going to have to go tell your grandfather what’s going on.”
    â€œRight,” Josh said. “Go ahead. Tell him. What’s he going to do about it? Come dragging his sorry ass all the way up here in his wheelchair? Like that’s gonna happen!”
    â€œJosh,” Marsha said, “I order you—”
    â€œYou can’t give me orders. I don’t work for you.” He sneered. “I’m not one of your so-called civil servants. I don’t have to jump just because Governor Longmire tells me to.”
    Ever since Josh entered the room, Marsha had been holding the evidence bag with the scarf in it. Tightening her lips and handing me the bag, she