Thomas Prescott Superpack by Nick Pirog Read Free Book Online Page B

of the neighbors and see if anyone saw anything odd this afternoon.”
    I turned to Gregory and stated, “Slow down there Hot Toddy. The victim wasn’t killed here today. She’s been dead for at least a day, maybe two.” I’d seen enough dead bodies in my day to know the difference between a freshy and a staley. Ginny Farth was a staley.
    Gregory scoffed at this and turned to Caitlin for confirmation that I was an idiot and an asshole. She nodded and said, “He’s right. I won’t know for sure until I perform the autopsy, but she looks to have been dead for a period of at least thirty-six hours.”
    At this, I stuck my shadow’s thumb up Todd’s shadow’s ass. Gleason tried to hide a grin with his hand and Caitlin camouflaged her snickering as a cough attack. Todd didn’t seem to notice and I was set to get even more creative with my shadow antics when a young officer pitter-pattered down the deck stairs and approached our foursome. We all turned in unison as he nodded at Caitlin and said, “Are you Detective Dodds?”
    The officer had on a tan uniform with the letters PCS inscribed on his name plate. I would later learn he was from the Penobscot County Sheriff’s office.
    Caitlin nodded, “That’s me.”
    The officer cocked his head back towards the house and said, “There’s a young cop here who claims he’s your brother.”
    “Conner’s here?”
    “Yeah, that’s his name.” He paused, then added, “Uh, he has an important call for you.”
    Caitlin eyed him and said, “Well tell him to take a message and I’ll call them back. Can’t you see that I’m busy? That I’m trying to find the guy who chopped the girl in that house into thirty fricking pieces.”
    Even in the twilight it was evident the officer blushed. He went to turn on his heel, then seemed to get a second wind of courage. “It’s just that if the guy really is your brother, then he’s probably telling the truth about the other thing.”
    The entire group took a collective step forward and I asked, “What other thing?”
    “The guy on the phone—” The officer’s features slowly climbed into a wry smile. “Tristen Grayer.”
     
    The five of us did a steady trot up the beach front, up the stairs, through the house, and out the front door. There were about seven cop cars littering the football field expanse of front yard and the officer pointed to a gentlemen standing at the edge of the crime scene tape cordoning off the area. The young man looked to be in his early twenties, had broad shoulders, and short, almost buzzed blond hair. He was handsome if you like the tall, good looking type, and even from a distance of fifty feet I could distinguish he shared two traits with his sister, azure eyes and a zero patience.
    He bulled over the thin cop attempting to restrain him and ambled towards our approaching group. The thin cop was in the process of going for his cuffs when Caitlin cut him off, “It’s okay. He’s my brother—and he’s a cop.”
    Caitlin turned to Conner and asked, “Why are you in civilian clothes?”
    He said, “I was on my way to the station when I got the call.”
    All eight eyes trained on the cell phone Conner was holding in his right hand; the face pressed hard against his thigh. Caitlin asked awkwardly, “Did he ask for me personally?”
    “He called the station and asked to be transferred to you but they accidentally put him through to me.”
    Gregory asked, “What else did he say?”
    “Nothing. He said he had a message for Detective Caitlin Dodds and that I track her down. I told him to go to hell and that’s when he told me who he was. I don’t even know if he’s still on the line.”
    Caitlin took a deep breath—as did the rest of us—and took the phone from Conner. She said, “Dr. Dodds. With whom am I speaking?”
    She began walking in a small semi-circle and I was only able to hear snatches of the conversation, “How do I know it’s really you? . . . Okay, okay, that’s enough .