The Hour of Dust and Ashes by Kelly Gay Read Free Book Online

force, no disclosure necessary, deal with it.
Hank and I did what the ITF did not and could not. We cleaned up messes. We hunted down monsters. We killed that which fought to the death, that which could not be integrated into the prison systemor stand trial, that which was a danger to society on a level far beyond the average criminal.
    But the only thing I cared about now was that my badge opened doors. The officer stepped aside as I clipped the badge back onto my belt and proceeded to the sidewalk, just a few feet down from the grand entrance of the Healey.
    I glanced up, the windows above me ablaze with light, with onlookers from above. Finding the broken one wasn’t hard. Twelve stories up. Guess they hadn’t bothered to go for the roof. No doubt the falling glass had alerted someone to start recording. Don’t call police. Don’t try to talk them down. Just turn on your camera and start filming. I’d never understand that mentality. Everything was reality porn these days—even a tragedy like this.
    A thirty-something guy stood in the street talking to investigators. Eyewitness, maybe. Or could be the person who caught the footage. Might even be the owner of the car where one of the victims had landed. I’d find out later.
    I turned my attention to the second “crash site” on the sidewalk, bracing myself and taking a hard analytical line to process the scene of blood, fluids, and brain matter with a detached approach. The body had already been bagged and was being hoisted onto a gurney.
    “Great way to end the year, eh?” Liz came up beside me. “Looks like your average double suicide,” she said. “So how was your Christmas?”
    “Fine. Rex and I took Emma to Jekyll Island. We spent most of our trip on the beach in the sun. Nice getting away from the darkness for a while.”
    “Tell me about it. I need to drive out for lunch on my next day off. Could use some real sunlight instead of this fake crap from a bulb …”
    “What’d you do for Christmas?”
    “Slept. All damn night. No one woke me until dinner. Best Christmas ever.”
    “I thought you loved the night shift.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, about as much as paying full price for Beausoleils.”
    “Never heard of them, but I’m guessing those are eyeglasses.”
    She turned to look at me, giving a model-like wave at her face. “Yeah. You like?”
    I studied the glasses she wore. The fifties-style secretary look she had going was cute on her small frame and Asian features. “I do. They’re very nice.”
    “I know, right? So, two fatalities,” she said, switching gears. “Broke the window up there, twelfth story. Female landed on the Ford Fusion. The other on the sidewalk. Computer geek over there”—she indicated the guy I’d put on my radar earlier—“saw the glass fall and recorded it with his phone. Guys are up in the condo now, but so far no signs of a struggle, nothing to suggest this was anything but a suicide.”
    “Who owned the condo?”
    “The female. Lewis.” She scribbled on a piece of paper and then tore off the edge. “Here’s the malevic’s address. Heard Ashton talking about it. Said he was heading over to notify next of kin and see if the guy left any kind of warning. You know he won’t be too happy to see you.”
    “Ashton’s never happy to see me. Didn’t you hear? I’m not only a Tri-racial Bitch, now he thinks I’m the Antichrist.”
    Liz glanced up, her eyes narrowing. “Well, you can get scary.” I opened my mouth to argue that summation, but she cut me off. “But I find it cute, endearing, more like a rabid puppy than the Antichrist.” Her lips twitched.
    “Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes.
    “I would say one of these days Ashton will get over it, but I think we both know it’s a lost cause.”
    Couldn’t argue with that one. Ashton Perry was one of ITF’s lead detectives. He’d never had a problem with me in all the years we worked together in the department, until I stopped being “one of