Seeds of Evidence (9781426770838) Read Online Free Page A

the waves well, riding some, breaking through others, the salt spray rising in protest, then subsiding.
    They turned north, with Assateague on their left and the vast ocean on their right. Kit’s thoughts centered on the littleboy. What in the world was he doing out on the water? “You get Latinos out here fishing?”
    â€œI don’t see many.”
    â€œPleasure boaters?”
    â€œVery few Latinos.” He took a deep breath. “How long have you been an agent?”
    â€œFive years.”
    â€œIn Norfolk that whole time?”
    â€œNo, I just transferred there.”
    Rick looked over at her. “How’d you get involved in this case?”
    â€œI couldn’t walk away.”
    Motoring about a quarter mile offshore at about fifteen knots, Kit could see through binoculars that most of the beachgoers had dropped their umbrellas and gone home. On the ocean side, a few charter fishing boats were headed back to Chincoteague. Could one of them have seen the boat carrying the little boy? “Those boats ever go out at night?” she asked.
    Rick shook his head. “Early in the morning, but rarely at night.”
    â€œThe big commercial vessels stay farther out, right?”
    â€œYes. They don’t want to mess with this area. They keep out in the Atlantic until they can cut in to Wilmington and Philly. Or they go on to New York and New Jersey. Or they’ve cut into the Chesapeake Bay, to the south, before they even get this far.”
    Kit looked down at the controls of the Boston Whaler. “Where would a boat like this fuel up?”
    â€œNorfolk, Wachapreague, Chincoteague, Ocean City. That’s basically it along the Delmarva Peninsula.”
    â€œYou think marinas would notice a group of Latinos getting fuel?”
    Rick smiled. “Oh, yeah.” He cut the engine back as they approached the area offshore from where Kit found the boy’s body. “How long do you figure the kid drifted in the water?”
    â€œInitially, the ME guessed no more than thirty-six hours. The autopsy will be more accurate.” She put her hand to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun, which had begun its descent to the horizon. From the ocean, Assateague looked like the sandy spit it was, a white strip stretching from north to south, untamed, and unspoiled.
    â€œAnd he was strangled, right?”
    She raised an eyebrow. “You got that from the news?”
    Rick laughed. “Heard it in town.”
    Kit let it pass. “The waves are breaking from the northeast. Is that the usual pattern?”
    â€œIn the summer. In winter or when a storm comes up, that can change.”
    â€œSo the current would run south along the beach, right?”
    â€œYes, it would slip south. You’ve felt it when you’re in the water, I’m sure.”
    Kit looked up toward the northeast. “So if he fell off a boat, we’re talking up there somewhere,” she gestured toward the vast ocean.
    â€œYep.” Rick squinted. “That’s quite a crime scene.”

    David O’Connor sat on the front porch of Kit’s grandmother’s former home, in an old white wicker rocker, watching the sun slide toward the horizon. Tomorrow he would begin painting the house. He planned to go to bed early and get up early to avoid working in the heat. He had his shirt off, and was massaging some cream into the scar on his shoulder, stuff that supposedly softened the collagen fibers and improved mobility. It was hard, though, to reach the bigger scar on his back, andfrankly he wondered if the cream wasn’t just another one of his sister’s snake oil compounds.
    He capped the jar and pulled his shirt back on, then decided to walk across the street and over to the dock to watch the rest of the sunset. As he walked down the steps and the screen door slammed behind him, he automatically thought of his gun. Half the reason he’d come to Chincoteague was to get