Sweet Last Drop. Melody Johnson

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СКАЧАТЬ rule anything out.”

      Walker crossed his arms. “I’ll need to measure the bite radius and inspect the tracks to confirm the species and the number of potential predators, but I’ve no doubt that an animal attacked and killed Lydia, not a vampire.”

      I held Walker’s gaze for a suspended moment, but despite my alligator exterior, even I melted under his velvety brown eyes. I sighed and let some of the anger seep away. “So no interviews.”

      Walker nodded. “If you insist on discounting the coroner, no interviews.”

      “Then why bring me here? It’s nothing I haven’t seen from your lovely tour of the town this afternoon.”

      “Although it’s not homicide, it’s still a case I’ll be working on while you’re in town. I thought you’d want in.”

      I smiled. “I always want in.”

      Walker’s smirk widened. “So stop wasting our time arguing and get your fill before Berry arrives to transport Lydia to the morgue.”

      “Berry?”

      “Bernard Bershaw, our coroner.”

      Walker’s voice had started off teasing, but by the time he referred to Lydia, his tone had wavered. Here in his hometown, with a population shy of two thousand, Walker probably knew just about everyone. Living in a city of millions, the chances of knowing the victims are slim, but I could empathize. In all my years covering murders and interviewing loved ones, the only victim I’d ever known personally was Jolene McCall, and the memory of her death would haunt me for the rest of my life.

      I kept my gaze carefully focused on Walker to distract myself from what little was left of Lydia. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m assuming you knew her?”

      Walker nodded, staring directly at her body. “Her father was the police chief here for years. He just recently retired. We worked on several cases together, and he always carried wallets of his girls. Lydia was his youngest.”

      Walker wasn’t giving me background for the case. His words were more about grief than investigation, but something about his story struck a chord inside me, and God help me, I was hard-wired to pluck at it, grief or not.

      From experience, I knew that people didn’t respond well to personal questions at a crime scene. They took offense, no matter the intention, because it made them feel suspect. So I made my voice as soft and innocent as I could before asking my question, which, considering my five foot two, one hundred ten-pound frame, could usually sound quite sweet despite my actual disposition. “Did Lydia have a boyfriend?”

      Walker’s gaze snapped up to meet mine. My tone hadn’t fooled him. “What are you getting at?”

      I shrugged and kept my gaze honed on his. “It’s just a question.”

      “And I want to know why you’re asking it.”

      “Ex-police chief’s youngest daughter takes a stroll at dusk, why? Because she loves the last burning rays of sunlight?” I kept my face neutral and let Walker make the connection himself.

      Walker’s face flushed. “This was an animal attack.”

      “It certainly looks like it.” I conceded. “But what things are and what they look like aren’t always the same.”

      Walker shook his head, but his mouth clamped shut.

      “It’s just a question, Walker.”

      “A question that didn’t need asking,” Walker insisted. “In this town, we don’t look under rocks that best lay put to rest. Maybe Lydia had a boyfriend and maybe she didn’t. It’s best to let the family grieve in peace without questions and rumors unearthing pain over an animal attack.”

      “You don’t know whether or not she had a boyfriend,” I pushed.

      He sighed. “I don’t know. Her father never mentioned her having one.”

      “Does she have a best friend? Or is she particularly close to one of her sisters?”

      “You’re not letting this go, are you? You’re gonna poke at wounds and make them fester over what is clearly an animal attack.”

      “You brought me here knowing my propensity for questions. I’m just doing my job.”

      Walker crossed his arms. “And what’s that?”

      “To face the facts and find the truth.”

      “This was an animal attack,” Walker repeated, but he sounded exhausted.

      “Yes, and I’m sure she sincerely loved taking walks at dusk,” I said, trying to pump sincerity into my voice. “But I’m also sure that’s not the whole truth. She told someone the real reason for taking nightly sunset strolls, and that’s the person I need to interview.”

      The crunch of gravel groaned from around the bend in the road. Walker shifted his gaze and waved to the approaching van behind me.

      “You can’t just knock on strangers’ doors and start asking questions like you do in the city. They don’t know you here. They’ll clam up.”

      I stared at him for a long moment. “But they know you. Since it’s a case you’ll be working on, maybe you can help me interview witnesses while I’m in town.”

      Walker shook his head slowly, but when he met my gaze, a wide smile crept over his features. “You’re relentless, DiRocco.”

      “Only with things that matter,” I said.

      A car door slammed, and Walker stepped forward to greet the person behind me. As Walker passed he leaned down, and the heady spice of his cologne made me want to lean in.

      “I’ll see what I can do,” he whispered.

      * * * *

      Walker greeted Berry with a back-pounding, handshake-hug. When he stepped back to introduce me, I shook Berry’s hand, looked up to meet his gaze, and kept looking up. Berry was a ruddy, solid man whose family life and career choice had replaced what had probably been a promising future in professional basketball. Most people towered over me, but Berry was exceptionally tall, made only taller-looking by his string bean-like appendages. By his slight hunch, I’d wager he was just as aware of his height as I was of mine. He was kind and quiet as he handled Lydia’s remains, but despite Walker’s claim that animal attacks were a common occurrence upstate, Berry had obviously not grown accustomed to witnessing such carnage.

      Lydia had been lovely, with wide doll eyes and wavy, light brown hair. Her face and upper chest were relatively intact; I could still see past the few lacerations across her cheeks and shoulders to the person she’d been before the attack. The rest of her, however, hadn’t fared as well.

      From her upper chest down, Lydia’s remains were scattered in ragged parts, detached organs, and indecipherable pieces. Long shreds of tissue still connected her left arm to her shoulder, but Berry found the marker for her right arm further into the woods. Her abdomen had been raked by claws, spilling her intestines. They stretched in a long, tangled pile next to the unnatural angle СКАЧАТЬ