A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red Read Online Free Page B

and rosacea. You’re beautiful.”  
    I think my mouth dropped open. Beautiful? My dad had never said that to me before. I’d heard other dads say it about their daughters. ‘Look at my daughter. Isn’t she a beauty?’ ‘This is my beautiful daughter.’ They’d say it even if their daughter looked a whole lot like Ben Stiller, but not my dad. He avoided the B-word completely. I heard ‘pretty’ once when I modeled my prom dress and Mom made him say it.
    “What?” Dad asked.
    “You called me beautiful.”  
    “Like that’s news. Don’t get a big head.” He slapped a manila folder on the table. “Here.”  
    Since the complimenting was over, I opened the folder. It contained a slim amount of data on Kent Blankenship. “That’s it? He’s got no history.”
    “That’s right. Blankenship is about the most boring murderer I’ve ever heard of. I take that back. He is the most boring. He was perfectly normal until three days ago.”  
    I flipped through the pages again. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”  
    A flicker of a smile passed over Dad’s lips. “Oh, really.”  
    “Blankenship has an IQ of 143, but he barely graduated from high school. I wouldn’t call that normal. No romantic relationships. No life, as far as I can tell.”  
    “And that’s why you’re going to talk to him. He’s a smart loser. You ought to be his wet dream.”  
    “Dad, that’s gross.”  
    “I agree. But if he’s going to accuse Donatella to deflect blame for a plea deal, we need to know it.”  
    “I do not want to go to Hunt.” I closed the file.  
    Dad gathered up our trash and tossed it. The second I stood up, a couple of guys pounced on our table. I tucked my sandwich in my purse and waited while Dad paid. That’s how I knew that he was really serious about me going to Hunt. Dad never took me to lunch. He never paid, not once, since I became an adult.  
      Dad ushered me outside and down the street to my truck. I got in and said, “I really don’t want to go to Hunt. There has to be a hot female cop who can do it.”  
    Dad put Blankenship’s file in my lap. “You saw the IQ. He might just be smart enough to smell a cop. You can be his friend.”  
    My lip curled at the thought and I pictured Jodie Foster standing in front of Hannibal Lector’s cell.
    Dad laughed. “It’s not The Silence of the Lambs out at Hunt.”  
    “And you know that for sure?” I asked.  
    “Pretty sure.” He slammed my door and walked down the street with his cellphone pressed against his ear.  
    Pretty sure? That was just great.
     

Chapter Three

    HUNT HOSPITAL FOR the Criminally Insane had had a change of heart or at least a change of name. The sign said, “Hunt State Hospital for the Mentally Ill.” Maybe a PR firm told them that Criminally Insane wasn’t so comforting for the people who lived in the town of Hunt. I doubt that anyone was fooled. The razor wire and guard towers were a dead giveaway that the hospital wasn’t for the mildly unwell.  
    Hunt did surprise me, though. It was built in 1840 and looked a lot like a college campus from the front, if you were able to ignore that pesky razor wire. The entrance was another surprise. I turned in and stopped at a guard shack. I had to get out of my truck while they searched it. The guard ran a hand-held metal detector over me before I was allowed back in. Then I got to drive through the first gate, which closed after me and I was then sandwiched between two gates. I went through the whole thing a second time with the addition of a hand swab for explosive material. Then the second gate made a loud clank and rolled back, allowing me through. By the time I drove into a parking spot, my hands were clammy and the hair on the nape of my neck was sweaty despite the frigid wind blowing across the parking lot. I got out and a portly man rushed out of the visitors’ entrance, waving to me. He had a thick head of iron-grey hair and the jolliest expression this