The Shark (Forgotten Files Book 1) by Mary Burton Read Free Book Online Page A

body and been back on his way north or south in a matter of minutes.”
    “He could be three states away by now.”
    “Martin, any tire tracks?” the sheriff asked.
    “Not in the field, but there are fresh ones on the side of the road just beyond Hudson’s truck. I’ve dropped flags to preserve them. There are plenty of footprints, though. Someone walked around the body several times. Could have been Hudson, since the impressions were made by work boots, which I am assuming he’s wearing.”
    “He is,” Riley confirmed.
    “I’ll need impressions of Hudson’s boots.”
    “I’ll swing by his place and get them,” Sheriff Barrett countered.
    “Judging by the size of the footprints, I’d say a man’s ten or eleven,” Martin said.
    “We should be able to clear Hudson as soon as I get his impressions,” Sheriff Barrett said.
    “A DNA swab wouldn’t hurt,” Martin added.
    “Sure.” The sheriff rolled his head from side to side. “Trooper, any other thoughts?”
    “The victim is thin, so she wouldn’t have been hard to carry,” Riley said. Had he slung her over his shoulder or carried her in his arms? Both images, one suggesting disinterest and the other care, bothered her. She shook both off. As a cop, it was better to focus on facts rather than feelings. Easy enough during the daylight, but at night those denied emotions robbed her of sleep. “Can you tell if she died here?”
    Martin examined the victim’s back and side. The victim’s right side was stippled with dark blue as if bruised. “When she died and her heart stopped, she was on her side. Likely stayed that way for a while—gave the blood time to settle. If she’d died here, like this, the blood would have settled in her hands and the bottom half of her legs. My guess is she died somewhere else.”
    “Gambling’s not legal in this state,” Sheriff Barrett observed as he studied the cards.
    “Doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Private games go on all the time,” Riley said. “The big players don’t fuss with public venues.”
    “High stakes. In a fancy backroom game. Sounds far-fetched,” he said, more to himself.
    Riley blinked, remembering her stepfather had been a high roller who couldn’t stay away from the tables. “These guys play with the best cards, and they hire the prettiest girls to serve them drinks and keep their mouth shut about what they see.”
    The sheriff’s head cocked slightly as he studied her. “You pick all that up while on patrol?”
    “I pay attention.”
    “All right,” he said after a pause. “Keep me updated. I’ll contact criminal investigations with the state and turn the case over to them.”
    “Sounds good.”
    Sheriff Barrett crossed the field, shook DuPont’s hand, climbed in his car, and left.
    “Are you okay, Riley?” Martin asked. “You look a little pale.”
    She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Still worn out a little from yesterday. I’ll be fine.”
    “Sure? Hell, you look like someone walked on your grave.”
    His concern pricked at her pride. “You’re being dramatic.”
    “Yeah, that’s me. Mr. Drama.” A deadpan tone made the statement laughable.
    “I can see that.” Riley grinned, hoping to break the tension coiling inside her.
    But the levity was fleeting. If not for the cards, she would have theorized that a john or one of Jax’s friends had killed the girl. It was the most plausible conclusion. If not for the cards.
    “Seriously, you okay?” Martin studied her like he would one of his crime scenes. “You ain’t gonna faint on me, are you?”
    She mustered another smile. “Hell, no.”
    “Thank God.”
    The crunch of gravel under tires had her turning to spot a television news van rolling up on the other side of the highway across from the spot Sheriff Barrett had vacated.
    “Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” Riley said.
    “Good news travels fast.”
    “He’s not here for this case. He’s here for me. I saw him at the park