Exhume (Dr. Schwartzman Series Book 1) by Danielle Girard Read Free Book Online Page B

“I’d like to identify where they were made.” Before anything else, he wanted to rule out the possibility that the two were made by the same person. If they were, this thing had to lead back to Schwartzman’s ex. He hoped like hell it didn’t. Because if it did, it meant that she had been married to one scary bastard.
    “Yes,” Roger agreed. “I’ve marked those priority.”
    Hal gave him a pat on the back. “Thanks, Roger. Get some sleep, man.”
    “You, too.”
    “Yeah, I’ll try.” But Hal wasn’t going to do much sleeping. Schwartzman had him worried.
    If Schwartzman’s ex wanted to play with her, why make the truth so obvious?
    More than that, he felt the wrongness in his teeth. It was an aching electricity that settled into the roots of his molars when he ate too much sugar or when he wanted to deny something on a case.
    Was it really just some sort of game for this guy? And if he was playing some sick game, then what was coming next?

5
    San Francisco, California
    Schwartzman shivered in the warm apartment and tightened the belt on her thick wool sweater. The thermostat on the wall read seventy. Still seventy. She had checked it three times. But it felt so much colder than seventy. In the kitchen, she dumped her tea in the sink, poured another mug from the steaming kettle. Pressing her fingertips into the porcelain until they burned.
    Why had she chosen to do this here? She might have gone down to the station and taken care of it there. But now Hailey and Hal were coming to her home. To make things easier for her, in consideration of her position.
    In her home.
    The box sat on the coffee table. A Nike shoe box, the orange dirty from handling, faded. Every bit of evidence she had.
    She jumped at the sound of the bell.
    “Dr. Schwartzman, it’s Alan at the front desk. Inspectors Harris and Wyatt are here to see you.”
    The police were at her door. What would the front desk think? What rumors would start now?
    What did she care? These were strangers, a whole building of them. “Thank you, Alan. Send them up, please.”
    Waiting for Hal and Hailey, Schwartzman crossed to the antique buffet table in the living room, where the bottle of Evan Williams bourbon sat beside two crystal glasses. Her father’s glasses. She tried to find some sense of him there with her. God, how she would have loved to have him with her now. She drank from the mug of tea until the bell rang.
    She opened the door and stood, feeling awkward. They had never been to her home, and this was not a social call.
    She invited them in, offered them tea, which both declined.
    It was midnight. The hour had taken its toll on them as much as her. Hailey’s dark curls were pulled into a makeshift bun, strands falling loose around her face. She wore no makeup, but her cheeks were rosy, as though she had recently scrubbed her face. Beneath her eyes were hollow half-moons. Hal’s face showed a shadow far later than five o’clock, salt as well as pepper in the growth. She led them to the living room, sat against the arm of the couch, and tucked her feet up and the sweater around them.
    “Sorry to come so late,” Hailey said.
    Had they met beforehand? Was that why they’d needed additional time? She tried to read the partners, but they didn’t look at each other. Both sat facing her. Schwartzman shook her head. “It’s fine. I wasn’t asleep.”
    “You doing okay?” Hal asked, leaning forward in the chair, elbows on his knees. The oversize chair was dwarfed by his stature.
    She didn’t want to exchange pleasantries. She wanted to know what they knew, share the case as colleagues. She was antsy, picking at the blanket that covered her legs. She wanted to ask the questions.
    “Schwartzman,” Hal prompted.
    “I’m fine. As well as expected,” she said. A company line. She had a lot of those. But, no. She was not doing okay. Not even close. “Let’s get this over with.”
    “What can you tell us about him?” Hailey