Dead Between the Lines by Denise Swanson Read Free Book Online

now working near the Dumpster by the back door.
    How did a town as small as Shadow Bend have such an extensive crime-scene team? Not to mention the white pimped-out RV with SHADOW BEND POLICE CRIME-SCENE UNIT painted in navy blue along its side.
    Oh, yeah, the infamous grants. Because Chief Kincaid and our esteemed mayor, Geoffrey Eggers, didn’t get along, the city council had been voting down police-department budget increases for years. In frustration, the chief had begun applying for federal funds to remodel the station, train personnel, and purchase up-to-date gear.
    Everyone had been surprised when the chief’s applications began to bring in money. So far, he’d been able to complete all three of his projects. Evidently, he must have hit the mother lode if he’d been able to purchase his very own crime-scene unit and mobile lab, and train his people to use them.
    I hid a smile. His Honor the mayor must be beyond livid that once again the chief had managed to get what he wanted without financing from the town’s coffers. Geoffrey Eggers hated being bested at his own game.
    Focusing back on the question, I said, “Addie Campbell was the most upset. The others were more annoyed than angry at the author’s attitude.”
    “Who was this guy?”
    “Lance Quistgaard.” That name would be hard to forget. “Supposedly he’s local, but I don’t recall ever seeing him before.”
    “Can you describe him?” Eldridge tapped his notepad with his pencil.
    After I told the chief what Quistgaard looked like, Eldridge nodded, then gazed out the windshield for what seemed like a long time.
    Finally, he opened the Suburban’s door and said, “Come with me.”
    This time as the chief led me toward the back door of my store, he made sure I was following him. He stopped as we passed a man leaning against a car and snapped, “Krefeld, if you won an award for laziness, you’d send someone else to pick it up.”
    The man scurried off, and we were a few steps from the building when Chief Kincaid ordered me to wait. Once he was satisfied that I was following his command, he approached a woman wearing a Tyvek coverall and hairnet, standing near a large cardboard box that had held a shelving unit that had arrived Friday morning. I couldn’t hear what he said to the crime-scene tech, but she moved out of the way.
    Motioning for me to join him, the chief used a black rubber glove to flip open the flaps of the carton. It took me a millisecond to grasp what I was seeing, and when I did, I gulped and leapt backward. Inside the coffinlike box, eyes wide-open and staring, lay Lance Quistgaard, both hands clutching a wooden stake, which had been driven through his heart.

CHAPTER 5
    “Y es.” I answered the chief’s question, rubbing my arms. I was suddenly chilled despite my sweatshirt and the mild May temperature. “That’s the speaker from tonight.” I fought to keep down the pizza I’d eaten earlier as nausea rose in my throat and threatened to empty my stomach. “I mean, last night, since now it’s today, so the meeting was yesterday.”
    Chief Kincaid ignored my babbling. Evidently, my green complexion didn’t make an impression on him either, since he didn’t offer me a barf bag. Instead, he demanded, “You’re sure the stiff in the cardboard box is Lance Quistgaard, the author at the meeting?”
    “Definitely.” I cringed as I took another peek at the dead man. “Why are you asking me who he is? Doesn’t he have any identification?”
    “No.” The chief nodded to the crime-scene tech that she could resume whatever she’d been doing, then took my elbow and steered me back toward his SUV. “There’s no wallet or keys in his pockets.”
    “So you think this was a robbery gone bad?” I opened the door and climbed into the Chevy’s passenger seat, grateful to sit down.
    “It’s too early in the investigation to form a viable theory.” Chief Kincaid’s eyebrows rose when he noticed my chattering teeth and