My Sister's Grave by Robert Dugoni Read Free Book Online Page A

Delmo were not yet at their desks.
    Tracy started going through her e-mails. Rick Cerrabone had sent her several that morning. The King County prosecutor wanted copies of the witness statements and Tracy’s affidavit to complete the search warrant Tracy was seeking for Nicole Hansen’s apartment. He’d sent a second e-mail half an hour after the first.
    Where are witness statements and affidavit? Can’t go to judge without.
    Tracy picked up the phone, about to call Cerrabone, when she saw an e-mail above his second message. Kins had copied her on his reply. She opened it. Kins had provided the witness statements and sworn out an affidavit. She swiveled her chair toward him, annoyed that he’d responded for her, even more annoyed that he’d done the affidavit when she was the lead detective. Kins glanced over his shoulder, caught her glare, and rotated to face her.
    “He called me, Tracy. I figured you had enough on your plate and took care of it.”
    She swung back to her keyboard, hit “Reply All” and started to type a nasty response. After a minute she sat back, read what she’d written, and deleted it. She took a breath and pushed back from the keyboard. “Kins?”
    He faced her.
    “Thanks,” she said. “What did Cerrabone say about the search warrant?”
    Kins walked over, hands thrust in his pants pockets. “Should have it later this morning. You all right?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m feeling. My head hurts.”
    “Andy came by,” he said, referring to their lieutenant, Andrew Laub. “He wants to see you.”
    She laughed, rubbed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Great.”
    “Why don’t we go get some breakfast? We can take a drive and talk to that witness down in Kent in that felony assault case.”
    Tracy pushed back her chair. “Thanks, Kins, but the sooner I get this out of the way . . .” She gave him a resigned shrug. “I don’t know.” She made her way around the perimeter of the cubicles and down the hall.
    Andrew Laub had been the A Team’s sergeant for two years before his promotion to lieutenant. That had earned him a small interior office with no window and a removable nameplate in the slot beside his door. Laub sat sideways at his desk, eyes focused on the computer screen, fingers pecking at the keyboard. Tracy knocked on the door frame.
    “Yeah?”
    “This a bad time?”
    The clicking stopped. Laub turned. “Tracy.” He motioned her in. “Close the door.”
    She entered and shut the door. The photographs on the shelves behind Laub served as a biography. He was married to an attractive redhead. They had twin daughters, though not identical, and a son who looked a lot like his father, with the same red hair and freckles. The boy apparently played football. “Take a seat.” The light from his desk lamp reflected in his glasses.
    “I’m fine.”
    “Take one anyway.”
    She sat.
    Laub removed his glasses and set them on his desk pad. Red impressions marked where the nose pads had pinched the bridge of his nose. “How you holding up?”
    “I’m good.”
    He eyeballed her. “People care, Tracy. We all just want to make sure you’re all right.”
    “I appreciate everyone’s concern.”
    “The medical examiner has the remains?”
    Tracy nodded. “Yeah. Brought her back last night.”
    “When will you get the report?”
    “Maybe a day.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    She shrugged. “At least now I know. That’s something.”
    “Yeah, that’s something.” He picked up a pencil, tapping the eraser on his desk pad. “When’s the last time you slept?”
    “Last night. Slept like a baby.”
    Laub leaned forward. “You want to tell everyone else you’re fine, that’s your prerogative, but you’re my responsibility. I need to know you’re okay; I don’t need you to be a hero.”
    “I’m not trying to be anyone’s hero, Lieutenant. I’m just trying to do my job.”
    “Why don’t you take some time? Sparrow can handle the Hansen