Expert Witness by Rebecca Forster Read Free Book Online Page A

interrupted when the tow truck lumbered into the lot. The guy didn’t say a word as he hitched the car with the winch. Archer stood aside as the Jeep was raised.
    “Whoa!” Archer called to the driver. Then he hollered ‘hold it’ when it didn’t stop.
    Finally, the winch shut down, suspending the Jeep at a forty-degree angle. Liz hadn’t shut the driver’s side door tight and it was swinging. As Archer caught it, he saw the floor mat had shifted and was wedged between the door and floor. He started to adjust it but stopped. A piece of paper had been exposed when the mat shifted.
    Heart pounding, Archer held the door against his backside and photographed what he had found. The color was off-white and the stock was cheap.  Picking it up in his fingertips, Archer was surprised to see that it was smaller than he originally thought it would be. Closer inspection showed the paper had been cut, so somewhere there was a matching piece. It could be stationery, but he doubted it.
    Archer backed away, let the door of the Jeep slam shut, and strode to the Hummer. Swinging the back door open, he put the piece of paper on the bed of the vehicle and dug two pairs of tweezers out of his camera bag.  Working carefully, Archer manipulated it. There was nothing on the back and only the printing on the front. He tipped it, and saw there were no watermarks. There was absolutely nothing interesting about the paper. What was written on it, however, was intriguing.
    “Hey! You done, man? I got a schedule.”
    Archer looked from the impatient driver to the Jeep.
    “Yeah, I’m done here.”
    Putting the paper in the plasticine envelope Liz had given him, Archer took out a Sharpie and noted the specifics of the find on the bag. The bag went into the breast pocket of his shirt as he climbed behind the wheel of the Hummer, pulled out his phone, connected with the Internet and started to type.
    A second later, the cell snapped shut and the yellow Hummer was speeding down Pacific Coast Highway. The first stop wasn’t far.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
    An Outbuilding in the California Mountains
     
    It was hard for Josie to swallow and harder still to open her eyes. It was impossible to move her hands, but she could move her legs if she concentrated. That was good because it meant those legs of hers were still attached to her body. And her arms were still there because her cheek brushed against her bicep when she jerked out of whatever sickness had come upon her. She could wiggle her fingers. Her wrists burned. She didn’t feel afraid because sleep came and went, taking with it all opportunity to panic. She was addled. She was forgetful. At least she was awake enough and lucid enough to register the water bottle.
    With great effort, she raised her head. Behind her eyes there was an explosion of light and pain. Her head fell and she landed cheek down in the dirt. She was drooling. That struck her as funny. Max drooled.
    Max. . .
    He was. . .
    Who was Max?
    Josie threw her head up, balanced her cheek between her upper arm and shoulder, craned her neck and finally managed to get her mouth on the sport top of the water bottle. Clamping her teeth down, she tilted it and dragged it closer. Counting to three, she threw up the bottle. Once. Twice. The third time was the charm, and she balanced the bottle above her. Water flowed. She gulped, and choked and the heavy bottle fell away. Using every ounce of energy, Josie kept her teeth around the top. Once more she whipped it up. The water went down her throat, and she drank like she had never tasted water before.
     
    A Business Complex, Manhattan Beach
     
    Archer walked toward the elegantly appointed building in an office complex peppered with identically well-appointed buildings. Each of the ten three-story structures was set at an angle and separated by well-established greenery: tall trees, lush bushes, and dense ground cover. Archer threaded through it all on a wide stone walk, noting strategically placed