Dead Deceiver by Victoria Houston Read Free Book Online

I could get you and Ray out here. Damn that Pecore—though I know you two will do a better job anyway. Ready to follow me down?”
    Without waiting for an answer, she started along a path leading down the snow bank towards the bridge. The stream running beneath the bridge was quite shallow, only a few inches deep. Once there, Osborne knelt and sat back on his heels to study the scene in front of him.
    The victim’s red ski jacket had been pulled down over her bent knees and tightened. His first impression was of a small child lying on its side, legs tucked up to take a nap—as innocent as one of his grandchildren. The thought sparked a tremor in his heart, worry over what he would learn next.
    In life Kathy Beltner had been a small-boned, slender woman no more than five feet six inches tall. Death diminished her: she seemed tiny. Studying what was left of her face, he couldn’t help but recall her cheery smile and lively ways. She had always impressed him as an exuberant young wife and mother. So much life gone. A face destroyed. Teeth missing.
    This is what can happen to Lewellyn, thought Osborne, an unreasonable panic flooding his gut. One bullet can do this! Think of all the times she is called out on domestic disturbances where people have been drinking and guns are so easily accessed. Think of the vagrants high on drugs or alcohol—with a gun in their crummy car.
    One solitary bullet slammed the life out of Kathy Beltner. That is all it would take to kill or maim Lewellyn Ferris. He would rather die himself than lose her.
    Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath, then exhaled. Hey, stop thinking this way, he told himself. You have work to do, calm down.
    Osborne dropped his head to say a sad, silent prayer then reached over to set his mitts on the snow beside his medical bag. He pulled on a pair of Nitrile gloves.
    “You okay, Doc?” Lew laid a hand on his shoulder.
    Osborne raised his head and checked to see where Rob Beltner was. Good, he was up on the trail and talking to the ranger. Out of earshot.
    “This is not an easy one, Lew. I knew this woman. Rob, Kathy, their daughters—they were patients of mine. How’s Rob taking it? Or is that a stupid question?”
    “I don’t know that it’s hit him yet. You know how it is. People are so stunned the emotions come later.”
    “Is he a suspect?”
    “Has to be. But do I really think he shot his wife? No.”
    “Is it okay for me to—” Osborne indicated with both hands that he was ready to approach the body.
    “Please,” said Lew. “My feet are starting to freeze and this snow is covering whatever evidence we might have had so work as fast as you can.”
    Leaning forward, he reached the zipper on the red jacket, managed to unzip it and gently prod past the knees, disturbing the body as little as possible. Beneath the jacket was a black fleece vest and under that a turtleneck of some soft fabric. Starting at the waist, he slipped his hand under the turtleneck and let his fingers slide up along the ribcage to the armpit. The victim’s arms, which were folded against the chest, were not yet stiff with rigor.
    Noting the condition of the armpit, Osborne pulled his hand down and away. With fingers as gentle as if swaddling a baby, he zipped the jacket shut over the knees so that Kathy Beltner appeared exactly as she had before his exam. Osborne turned his head to one side.
    “Slight warmth in the armpit,” he said and reached into his medical bag. Using two instruments, he nudged first the head, then what remained of the jaw. Both moved.
    Osborne replaced the instruments, grabbed his mitts and stood up. “Given the warmth in the armpit and the lack of rigor in the neck and the jaw, I would guess she was shot within the last three hours. But,” he raised a finger as if instructing himself, “with the amount of clothing the victim is wearing—and the temperature out here—that is a wild guess. Cold can delay the onset of rigor mortis by