Whispers of the Dead

Whispers of the Dead by Simon Beckett Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: Whispers of the Dead by Simon Beckett Read Free Book Online
Authors: Simon Beckett
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Crime
more often used for research
rather than actual homicide investigations. The TBI also had its own
facilities in Nashville, but the UTMC morgue was more convenient
in this instance. Normally, I would have jumped at the opportunity
to help Tom, but now I hesitated.
'I'm not sure I'm up to it.'
'Bullshit,' Tom said, uncharacteristically blunt. He gave a sigh.
'Look, David, you've had a tough time lately, I know that. But you
came over here to get back on your feet, and I can't think of a better
way to do it.'
'What about Gardner?' I hedged.
'Dan's a little prickly with people he doesn't know sometimes, but
he appreciates talent as much as anyone. Besides, I don't have to ask
his permission to get someone to help me. I'd normally use one of
my students, but I'd rather have you there. Unless you don't want to
work with me, of course.'
I didn't know what I wanted, but I could hardly turn him down.
'If you're sure, then thanks.'
Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the road ahead.
Suddenly, the inside of the car was flooded with light as the car
behind us closed the gap. Tom squinted as its headlights dazzled
him in the rear-view mirror. They were only a few feet away, high
and bright enough to suggest they belonged to either a pick-up or
a small truck.
Tom clicked his tongue in annoyance. 'What the hell's this idiot
doing?'
He slowed, pulling over to the side of the road to let the other car
pass. But its headlights slowed as well, remaining right behind us.
'Fine, you've had your chance,'Tom muttered, speeding up again.
The headlights kept pace with us, staying just behind the station
wagon. I twisted round, trying to see what was following us. But the
glare rendered everything through the rear window invisible,
prevented me from making anything out.
With a screech of rubber, the headlights abruptly swerved to the
left. I caught a glimpse of a high-bodied pick-up, its windows black
mirrors as it tore past with a throaty roar. The station wagon was
rocked by its slipstream and then it was gone, its rear lights quickly
disappearing into the darkness.
'Damn redneck,'Tom muttered.
He reached for the CD player, and the mellow tones of Chet
Baker accompanied us back to civilization.
I
    Tom dropped me off at the hospital "where I'd left my car. We
arranged to meet first thing next morning at the morgue, and after
he'd gone I
gratefully drove back to my hotel. All I wanted to do was
have a shower, get something to eat and then try to sleep.
Which was pretty much what I'd done almost every night so far.
I was on my way up to my room before I remembered I'd agreed
to go out that evening. I checked the time and saw I'd less than half
an hour before Paul was due to pick me up.
    I sank down on to the bed with a groan. I felt less like company
than ever. I was out of the habit of socializing, and the last thing I
was in the mood for was making polite conversation with strangers.
I was tempted to call Paul and make some excuse, except I couldn't
think of one. Besides, it would be churlish to turn down their
hospitality.
Come on, Hunter, make an effort. God forbid you should enjoy yourself. Reluctantly, I pushed myself off the bed. There was just enough time
for a shower if I hurried, so I stripped off my clothes and stepped into
the cubicle, turning the jet on full. The scar on my stomach looked
alien and strange, as if it wasn't really a part of me. Even though the
ugly line of pink flesh wasn't tender any more, I still didn't like
    I
touching it. In time I supposed I'd become used to its presence, but
I wasn't yet.
I turned my face up to the stinging spray, taking deep breaths of
the steam-filled air to dispel the sudden rush of memory. The knife handle protruding from below my ribs, the hot, sticky feel of blood pooling
around me on the black and white tiles ... I shook my head like a dog, trying to cast out the unwanted images. I'd been lucky. Grace
Strachan was one of the

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