The Trigger by L.J. Sellers Read Free Book Online Page A

chunk of the building was harder to get into. Gibson was starting to look a little gray and soft, but McCullen knew he lifted weights and boxed for fun, so he’d want Gibson on his side in a street fight any day.
    “What’s the update on Agent Dallas?” His boss took a seat.
    “She has a lunch date scheduled with Spencer Clayton today, and she expects to be living in Destiny by the end of the week.”
    “She’s moving fast.” Gibson shifted in his seat. “Once she’s in place, she probably won’t need much help, so I have another assignment for you.”
    Surprised, McCullen said, “Dallas still needs a contact person. Is the case something minor?”
    “I need you to investigate a dead body that turned up this morning.” Gibson handed him a thin file folder. “I’ll take the lead on the Eden project, and Dallas will report directly to me.”
    McCullen was too stunned to respond for a moment. “A homicide? Why isn’t the police department taking it?”
    “They asked for help. Their only homicide detective is on leave after back surgery, and no one else in the department has the time or experience to investigate a cold case. And it may not be murder.”
    Cold case?
“How old is the body?”
    “She’s been in the water, so it’s hard to tell.”
    A floater!
    Gibson chuckled. “Don’t look so glum. This is an opportunity to get out of the office and use your skills. Do something besides fraud cases.”
    “You’re right. Thank you.” McCullen was torn. Homicide investigations were rare and if he solved it, the case could earn him a promotion to the Sacramento Field Office. But he hated losing contact with Dallas, and he hated being bumped from the Eden case. Randall Clayton had stolen Emma from him five years ago, and McCullen had never trusted or liked him since. He wanted to be the one to cuff Randall and escort him to the federal holding cell in Sacramento. “What about our end of the missing persons investigation? Emma Clayton may not be in Destiny.”
    “I’ll keep working it, but you know there’s not much more we can do.” Gibson took a gulp of the coffee he always had with him. “She’s probably either dead or out there with the preppers.” Gibson’s tone held scorn. He assumed every isolationist was anti-government.
    A shapeless worry started to take hold. “Did the victim have ID?”
    “No. Start with the missing persons database.”
    Could it be Emma?
The thought made his stomach clench. He tried not to visualize her corpse. Just as he had tried for a week not to imagine Emma held captive or hurt in any way. He couldn’t let this investigation get personal. He and Emma were long past. “Where is the victim?”
    Gibson pointed at the report. “The Four Corners Motel. They pulled back the winter cover over the pool this morning and found a body in the water.” His boss stood to leave. “I’ll let Agent Dallas know to contact me.”
    McCullen drove south on Victor Avenue, looking for the cheap motel near the outskirts of the city. The bright sun and vast blue sky took the edge off his foul mood. Planting season was finally in swing, and he couldn’t wait to get some basil and cilantro growing. He’d missed cooking with fresh herbs.
    The dirty-white building came into view on his left. Long and low, it stretched out along the road, welcoming weary travelers with bright orange doors and a huge sign that lit up at night. McCullen had been inside just once—a night that had been both glorious and regretful.
    He’d lived in Redding for six years, moving from Sacramento after his bureau training. Part of him wanted to go back to the bigger city with its higher crime rate and faster pace. The other half liked leaving work at five with most weekends free to bicycle, hunt, and garden.
    He pulled into the parking lot just as the Shasta County coroner and a crime scene tech loaded the sheet-draped body into a van. A patrol officer stood nearby. McCullen walked over to the van, smelling