Big Jack by J. D. Robb Read Free Book Online Page A

back and sleep in this room again. Live with the nightmare of this room.
    Then he looked at his wife, saw she was waiting. Saw her cop’s eyes were cool and flat. She lived with nightmares, waking and sleeping.
    “Yes, I see.”
    “Closet doors were open. I’m betting the closet. He didn’t start in here. I think he started in the office down the hall. I think that was his first stop, and he didn’t get very far.”
    “Why?”
    “If he’d tossed this room, she’d have seen the mess as soon as she opened the door. No defensive wounds, no sign she tried to run or fight. Second, there’s a workstation in the office, and it’s still neat as a pin. I figure that was his starting point, and he’d planned to be careful, to be tidy. Jacobs comes in, screws that plan for him.”
    “And Plan B is murder.”
    “Yeah. No way he missed her workstation, but he didn’t mess it up. He went through everything else, and wasn’t worried about being neat, but he’d already searched the workstation. Why mess with it again?”
    Roarke looked at the horror of blood and fluids staining the floor and walls. “And slicing a woman’s throat is more time efficient.”
    “That could factor. I think he heard her come in, and instead of waiting until she went to sleep and getting the hell out, instead of knocking her senseless, he slipped right in here, slid back into the closet and watched her come in and kick off her fancy shoes. Push that stuff out of the way, will you? We’ve already been through here, scene’s on record. Stand in the closet.”
    “Christ.” He pushed the heaps of clothes and pillows aside, stepped back inside the open closet.
    “See the angle? This had to be the angle from the way she landed. She’s standing like this, facing away. He came up behind, yanked her head back by the hair—she had long hair, and the angle of the wound—had to be. Slice down, left to right. Do that. Just fake the hair.”
    He reached her in two strides, gave her short hair a tug, feigned the swipe with a knife.
    She imagined herself jerking once. The shock the system experienced, the alarm screaming in the brain even as the body died. And looked down at the floor, brought the position of the body back into her mind.
    “Had to be. Had to be just like that. He couldn’t have hesitated, not for a second. Even a second warning, she’d have turned, changed the angle some. Had to be fast and smooth. See, she hit the side of the bed when she fell. Spatter indicates. Hit the side of the bed, bounced, rolled, landed. Then he went back to work. He had to do most of this after he’d killed her. He must’ve spent another hour, maybe two, in the house with her, some of that right in this room with her while she was bleeding out. He’s got steady hands. And he’s got cold blood.”
    “Have you got a watch on Samantha Gannon?”
    “Yeah. And it’s going to stay on her until I take him down. Let’s get out of here.”
    He waited until they were outside again, in the hot summer air. Until she’d resealed the door. Then he ran his hands down her arms, drew her against him and kissed her lightly.
    “What was that for?” she asked.
    “We needed it.”
    “Guess you’re right.” She took his hand, walked down the steps. “We did.”

    The media had already caught the scent. Eve’s office ’link at Cop Central was clogged with requests, pleas, demands for information. She dumped them all, with some pleasure, shooting them to the media liaison. They could sniff for blood all they wanted, but they weren’t getting any from her until she was ready.
    She expected to get a personal visit from Nadine Furst before much longer. She’d deal with that when the time came. The fact was there was probably a way for her to use Channel 75’s hotshot on-air reporter.
    She programmed coffee and decided it was never too early to nag the ME or the lab.
    She was arguing with the ME assigned to her case, disgusted to be informed Chief Medical