Hot Flash by Carrie H. Johnson Read Free Book Online Page A

beside a human-sized hole. Wade Taylor was sideways on the floor in the center of the room, with his hands tied behind his back and his feet tied to a chair, which had fallen with him. A rag protruded from his mouth. And, just as Laughton reported, he had one shot to the back of his head.
    â€œClose up and personal,” Medical Examiner Robert Hayes said, as he rose from inspecting the body and snapped off his latex gloves. Officers moved in to remove the body. “You’re all set, Ms. M. Your partner did the preliminaries.” Hayes was creepy in a bone-chilling sense, with his sculpted widow’s peak and long, pointy nose, looking like Vincent Price complete with the deep, crackly voice. He continued, “Said he’d meet you at the lab.” He waved his long, skeletal finger, pointing toward the stairway.
    â€œWhere’s the daughter? He has a daughter.”
    â€œI don’t know anything about a daughter.”
    No doubt. I could not imagine Hayes a daddy.
    â€œNo one was here when we arrived, except, of course, the deceased.” His weak try at humor. His smile revealed scraggly, discolored teeth, completing his “Doctor Death” image.

    Laughton’s phone went straight to voice mail and his car was not in the parking lot when I arrived at the station. The lab was dark except for Parker’s cubicle. He hunched over his desk disassembling a Beretta. I braced for an inappropriate remark as I passed and got a “Hey, M” instead.
    â€œHi, Parker. Laughton been here?”
    â€œNope. Nobody here but us.” He raised the Beretta. “Heard about Taylor getting popped. I’m bettin’ he did the missus.”
    I dropped my purse on my desk, moved over to Laughton’s desk, and clicked on his lamp. At first I just looked, trying to discover something among the debris of guns, bullets, and folders.
    I never doubted Laughton. Hell, like I said, we were lovers . . . once upon a time. We were friends, but most of all, we were partners. In life and near-death experiences, we protected each other’s backs. We handled crime scenes together, tag-teamed possible scenarios, and worked the evidence.
    I flashbacked on the garage scene . . .
    Laughton had asked Taylor what was wrong with him, and Taylor had said something I could not decipher before Laughton punched him. I pulled open the top drawer of his desk, then the side drawers. The bottom side drawer would not open.
    â€œLooking for something, are we?” Laughton spun his chair around with me in it, nudged me out, and sat down. I felt caught, hand stuck in the proverbial cookie jar.
    â€œWhere’ve you been?” I said, innocence oozing.
    â€œChasing down Wade’s daughter. She’s been with his parents since Marcy’s murder.”
    â€œWe know she was murdered? Wait a minute, what the hell are you doing? We don’t chase down murder victims’ children. We do weapons, remember?”
    â€œLooks like she was murdered, but we still have work to do before that conclusion is proven,” he said, ignoring my comments.
    â€œAnd Wade Taylor?”
    â€œSomebody executed him.”
    â€œLaughton, what’s going on with you? You okay? You’re running with this solo, like I’m not a part of this team. You call me to the crime scenes late—”
    Laughton popped up from his chair, grabbed my arm, and guided me to the back, where the microscope lab was located, empty at this time of night. He opened the door and nudged me inside the room in front of him, then closed and locked the door. He ran his hands over his head, walked to the rear of the lab and back, stopping in front of me, nose close.
    â€œM, do me this favor—back off. This one’s personal. I’ll keep you informed, make it like we’re working together.”
    I took a half step back. “Laughton, what are you doing? We’re partners. That’s what we do, work together. I need