Hocus by Jan Burke Read Free Book Online

angles. A fingerprint technician was already dusting the door handles and other surfaces. Most of the attention was on the open trunk.
    As we drew closer, my sense of dread became so acute that the trunk seemed to become a gaping maw, Jonah’s whale come to swallow me whole. Police interest of this kind was like John’s sympathy — it could not be associated with anything good.
    Cassidy took hold of my elbow at some point; I guess I had slowed without realizing it. I heard voices around me, introductions, comments, even Cassidy’s drawling version of my name. He was repeating it.
    But they were all far away. I was in an incomprehensible world, a world composed solely of the large, dark bloodstain on the carpet in the trunk of my husband’s car.
     
5
     
    I WAS ABLE TO AVOID FAINTING or screaming or going into hysterics, but the tears refused all orders not to fall. Next to the stain, an orderly display of three items caught my eye: a pager, a cellular phone, a gun in a shoulder holster. I knew they were Frank’s even before Cassidy steered me away from the car and into the building.
    The big marble-and-brass lobby was empty; the security guard was outside, engrossed in watching the police action. Cassidy seated me on a bench and asked for directions to the nearest vending machines. I managed to point the way. I sat there, trembling, hoping I could stop quivering before he came back. I couldn’t. He handed me a cup of hot coffee and made me drink it while he watched.
    John came in, took in my tearstained face, and snapped, “Get her another cup of that stuff,” as if Cassidy were his to command. Cassidy didn’t make a fuss about it. The minute he stood up, John sat next to me, even took my hand and patted it in an awkward gesture of reassurance. I wasn’t reassured, but it was so weird to have John do something like that, I dried up.
    “You going to be okay, Kelly?”
    I nodded.
    “Can I do anything for you?”
    I shook my head.
    “Mark’s here. I’ve asked him to cover this.”
    “Keep him away from me,” I said, hating how shaky my voice sounded.
    “But, Kelly—”
    “I just can’t talk to him now, John. Maybe later.”
    “Before deadline?”
    I choked out a laugh.
    “You don’t blame Mark for this, do you, Kelly?”
    Did I? Maybe. It was wrong, I knew. But what if Mark’s story had triggered what happened? I thought of the bloodstain. No, I told myself, it’s wrong to blame Mark.
    I closed my eyes tightly, because that was as close as I could get to being left alone. “Don’t make me sort this out right now, John. Please.”
    “No need to pressure Ms. Kelly,” Cassidy said, causing me to look up again as he came back into the room. He handed me the cup of coffee, glanced over at John, and sighed. “I expected more of you, Mr. Walters.”
    John rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll talk to you later, Kelly.” He started up the stairs, then paused. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked again.
    “Yes, don’t worry. I’ll be upstairs in a few minutes.”
    “Maybe I shouldn’t have let you see the car,” Cassidy said when John was out of earshot. “Bredloe will probably have my butt for that. I just figured it was easier to let you see the car now — otherwise I might find you breaking into the impound yard trying to get a look at it.”
    “You were right,” I said. I sat up a little straighter, tried to make my voice steady when I asked, “What do you think that bloodstain means?”
    “Hmm. If I sit here and speculate, I’m taking up a fool’s hobby. We don’t know if it’s human blood, for starters. Could be blood from a steak, just put there to scare you.”
    “If it’s human….”
    “Then we have to figure out how many humans left it there. If it came from one human, then we have to figure out which one it most likely belonged to. When you’re worried and thinking that it’s your husband’s blood, a few drops would seem like a lot of blood. We need to try to measure