Victim Six by Gregg Olsen Read Free Book Online Page A

southernmost part of Kitsap County was typical of what Kendall found in the reports:
    You should see the noble fir my dad planted twenty years ago. They’ve skinned the branches up to the tiptop. Hope someone’s enjoying that Christmas wreath at my expense. What’s with these people? Why don’t they stay off my land? Next time I’ll shoot anyone who comes to rustle what’s mine.
    Kendall checked Mr. Matthews’ tax records to make sure he didn’t own any property in the Sunnyslope area.
    He didn’t.
    An article in the mainstream press also caught her eye. It had appeared in the Olympia paper two years prior. The writer presented the idea that brushpicking was one of the last vestiges of the Old West, a kind of job that pitted man and woman against the elements, literally living off the land, dodging bullets, and collecting just enough money at the end of the day to feed the family and do it all over again. They were floral rustlers. Cowboys fighting over what they felt they had a right to.
    It was after eleven, and Kendall called Tulio, figuring that no matter how late he’d worked, he’d want to talk to her.
    A younger man, who identified himself as Leon Pena, answered.
    “One minute. Tulio! The police are on the phone!”
    “Detective Stark, do you have news?” His voice was full of hesitation and hope.
    Kendall locked her eyes on Celesta’s photo and spoke into the handset. “I’m afraid not.” She refrained from reminding him that they’d only had the case a day, but she knew that even an less than savvy observer who watched any TV whatsoever knew that missing-persons cases were solved in hours, not days. Days of searching usually meant someone was dead or had run away.
    “Tulio, have you had any problems out there with other pickers?”
    “Problems? What do you mean?”
    “Did anyone threaten you or cause problems with you where you were picking?”
    There was a short pause. “No. No, Detective. We did not want any trouble. We heard some Asians out there that day, but we never saw them. We never talked to them.”
    “All right. I have one other question, Tulio. This is touchy, difficult….”
    She could almost hear him gulp on the other end of the line. She wanted to let him down easy, if there was any possibility that Celesta Delgado had left him for another man, no matter how unlikely the scenario.
    “How were you and Celesta getting along? Did you argue?”
    “We were in love.”
    “In love, yes,” she said, repeating his words. “But was she happy? Do you think she might have been seeing anyone?”
    “No. She loved me. Only me.”
    Only you, she thought. Of course, only you.
    She told Tulio that she’d continue working the case and that if she had any more questions she’d call. As she hung up, Josh Anderson appeared in the doorway. For the first time Kendall noticed he was wearing a new suit, a gray chalk-striped outfit with a crisp blue shirt and a raspberry tie.
    “How’s your day going?” he asked.
    “Fine,” she said. “In court today or going to your homecoming dance?”
    “Funny,” he said, sliding into a chair across from her. “I’ve got some important business to attend to.”
    “Okay.” Kendall looked back down at her work.
    “Aren’t you going to ask what it is?”
    She took out a highlighter and made a yellow trail through some text on the printout. “Nope.” She could feel his agitation percolate inside his brand-new suit, and she loved it. She knew that Josh Anderson was the type of man who never missed an opportunity to tell someone—particularly a woman—how smart, how successful, and just how in demand he was. She silently counted to three.
    “I’m speaking at Burien today.”
    Burien was the location of the state’s police training facility.
    “Really, Josh? I guess you forgot to mention it.” She glanced at the whiteboard hanging on the wall adjacent to her desk. In block letters, it read:
     
    JOSH SPEAKING ON INVESTIGATIVE RESOURCES IN