Kill 'Em with Cayenne Read Online Free Page A

Bending down, he felt for a pulse. I could’ve told him it was useless, seeing how Becca’s skin was the color of day-old mashed potatoes, but kept my own counsel.
    â€œRecognize the vic?”
    The vic? I shivered at the clinical term. “Becca Dapkins. She works at the water department. Better make that ‘worked,’” I amended.
    Running an impatient hand through his military-short black hair, he scowled at me. “How is it that in the brief time I’ve known you, you’ve managed to find more bodies than most cadaver dogs?”
    â€œFor your information, I didn’t find the body. Casey did.”
    At hearing his name, the pup’s ears perked up and he gave McBride his best doggy smile.
    â€œCasey might not be a cadaver dog, but he’s every bit as smart,” I said.
    â€œPlease tell me neither you nor your four-legged friend touched anything?”
    â€œI know the drill, McBride,” I replied heatedly. “I’m not exactly a newbie in the dead body department.” I thought I heard teeth grind, but I could’ve been mistaken.
    â€œDid you happen to see or hear anything suspicious?”
    â€œI didn’t notice anyone hanging around if that’s what you mean. There aren’t many people out and about this early in the morning.”
    McBride turned to the officers who hovered nearby, awaiting orders. “Tucker, cordon off the area,” he barked. “Moyer, get the camera. Start taking photos.”
    The light sweat I’d worked up while jogging was beginning to evaporate on my skin, leaving me chilled. I rubbed my arms. “Am I free to leave?”
    â€œNot so fast.” McBride swung his attention back to me and zapped me into obedience with his laser-blue eyes. “In concise terms, tell me how you—of all people—happened upon the vic?”
    My teeth started to chatter as a delayed reaction at finding Becca finally set in. While Becca and I were more acquaintances than friends, I felt terrible about what happened to her.
    â€œPiper…”
    I realized McBride was still waiting for an answer to his question. “Sh-shin splints,” I managed to stammer.
    His gaze narrowed. “You okay? You’re white as a ghost.”
    â€œI’m f-fine,” I muttered. “Or at least I will be once I warm up.”
    I thought he muttered something that sounded like “danged skimpy clothes,” but I wouldn’t swear to it on a stack of Bibles.
    â€œHave a seat in the patrol car and wait for me. I still need to ask you a few questions.”
    â€œB-but—”
    He held up a hand to forestall a protest he saw forming. “No argument. Right now, I have to make sure the crime scene is secure.”
    â€œCrime scene…?” I echoed, but I doubt that he heard me. He was already hurrying away.
    Shoulders hunched and Casey trotting alongside me, I slowly made my way to the cop car and slid into the driver’s seat. No way was I going to sit behind a mesh screen in a spot reserved for miscreants and felons. I wrapped Casey’s leash around the door handle, and the little dog settled down to regard the goings-on with watchful eyes.
    The interior of the car felt warm. I detected a faint, lingering citrusy scent. McBride’s aftershave? I wondered. Or air freshener? Eager to take my mind off Becca—and McBride—I concentrated on my surroundings. With its myriad of dials and gadgets, I likened it to a landlubber’s version of an airplane cockpit. A police radio crackled and hummed. A radar gun rested in a special holster on the dash. The stainless-steel arm of a hand-operated spotlight jutted out left of the windshield. The console boasted a state-of-the-art computer. McBride had Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube at his fingertips.
    I was about to look away when I noticed an item of even greater interest—a stainless-steel coffee mug—sitting in a cup holder. I plucked