The Sketcher's Mark (Lara McBride Thrillers Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Chris O'Neill
stand seeing ego get in the way of work. There was no place for it in a crime scene. And she had little use for it anywhere else. She moved out of the kitchen and in to the living room.
“It was a Trauma Center, Jerry, and thanks for asking. I’m fine now.”
“I thought you were just gonna stay home and write books about this shit.”
“If I did that, who would actually solve the homicides?”
“Fuck you, McBride.” He never could last long in the back and forth banter. He could hurl it but not take it.
“Why don’t you do us all a favor and go on another book tour and don’t come back? We don’t need your bullshit voodoo dog and pony show.”
“We all handle stress in different ways, Jerry. You need to wear designer clothes to crime scenes. I needed to talk to somebody. Can we get back to the dead people in the living room?”
Barnes blustered, unable to find something to say. Hoyt moved him back out of the room to the hallway and she could hear him grumbling. She breathed in and closed her eyes. Quiet the mind. Lock everything else out. Just like her father had taught her. She controlled her breathing, felt her body relaxing, opening up to the imprints in time that had been left behind.
She opened her eyes and the Forensics team were gone. She was alone now in the room with the bodies of the husband and wife. The TV was still on, playing a show that had first been beamed out across homes in Los Angeles decades ago. Thick black ribbons fluttered across the room. They trailed from the dead couple, undulating in a breeze that didn’t exist, trailing in to the kitchen. She looked back to where they led- the sink. The solitary washed dish, knife, fork and glass. The room blurred, seemed to expand and contract on itself as though it were breathing. It had something to tell her, pregnant with a secret that had to be birthed and only she could deliver it. It throbbed with intent. She closed her eyes, breathed out and when she opened them again, she was back in the room with everybody else. It had taken her a long time to be able to control her gift so well. She had just figured out the best thing to do was to not fight it. Her father had taught her well. He had never understood it, but he had helped her with it.
“They had a boarder,” she announced. “Male, 30’s to 40’s, same ethnic group, probably recently divorced or separated, possibly out of work. No previous criminal history, comes from a home of domestic abuse. He saw a lot of it when he was young. He’s in a place right now where he feels like a failure. That’s where his rage comes from. His parents.”
“Come on,” Barnes chimed in. Hoyt looked around the living room, as though everything she had just said could be found right in front of him.
“Lara, I’m not saying you’re wrong or you’re rusty but I don’t see anything here to tell me it was anything other than a domestic argument that escalated. I mean, they’re holding the murder weapons in their hands. Probably hated each other for years and tonight they just snapped.”
“They needed money, that’s why the coupons on the refrigerator and the need for a boarder to make the mortgage. Self esteem was low, hence the hoarding and keeping it all out in the open even with a guest in the house. They didn’t care about fighting in front of him, either. That was how far they’d fallen. And that was the stress trigger for the UnSub.”
“Bullshit,” Barnes uttered. Lara ignored him and walked out of the living room in to the corridor. Hoyt followed her.
“She’s gone crazy from all the shock treatment and meds they probably had her on at the loony bin. Not that she wasn’t crazy before she went in,” Barnes chirped.
“If they were fighting, why would the boarder get involved?” Hoyt asked as Lara opened the door to the small guestroom at the back of the house.
The room was
“It was a Trauma Center, Jerry, and thanks for asking. I’m fine now.”
“I thought you were just gonna stay home and write books about this shit.”
“If I did that, who would actually solve the homicides?”
“Fuck you, McBride.” He never could last long in the back and forth banter. He could hurl it but not take it.
“Why don’t you do us all a favor and go on another book tour and don’t come back? We don’t need your bullshit voodoo dog and pony show.”
“We all handle stress in different ways, Jerry. You need to wear designer clothes to crime scenes. I needed to talk to somebody. Can we get back to the dead people in the living room?”
Barnes blustered, unable to find something to say. Hoyt moved him back out of the room to the hallway and she could hear him grumbling. She breathed in and closed her eyes. Quiet the mind. Lock everything else out. Just like her father had taught her. She controlled her breathing, felt her body relaxing, opening up to the imprints in time that had been left behind.
She opened her eyes and the Forensics team were gone. She was alone now in the room with the bodies of the husband and wife. The TV was still on, playing a show that had first been beamed out across homes in Los Angeles decades ago. Thick black ribbons fluttered across the room. They trailed from the dead couple, undulating in a breeze that didn’t exist, trailing in to the kitchen. She looked back to where they led- the sink. The solitary washed dish, knife, fork and glass. The room blurred, seemed to expand and contract on itself as though it were breathing. It had something to tell her, pregnant with a secret that had to be birthed and only she could deliver it. It throbbed with intent. She closed her eyes, breathed out and when she opened them again, she was back in the room with everybody else. It had taken her a long time to be able to control her gift so well. She had just figured out the best thing to do was to not fight it. Her father had taught her well. He had never understood it, but he had helped her with it.
“They had a boarder,” she announced. “Male, 30’s to 40’s, same ethnic group, probably recently divorced or separated, possibly out of work. No previous criminal history, comes from a home of domestic abuse. He saw a lot of it when he was young. He’s in a place right now where he feels like a failure. That’s where his rage comes from. His parents.”
“Come on,” Barnes chimed in. Hoyt looked around the living room, as though everything she had just said could be found right in front of him.
“Lara, I’m not saying you’re wrong or you’re rusty but I don’t see anything here to tell me it was anything other than a domestic argument that escalated. I mean, they’re holding the murder weapons in their hands. Probably hated each other for years and tonight they just snapped.”
“They needed money, that’s why the coupons on the refrigerator and the need for a boarder to make the mortgage. Self esteem was low, hence the hoarding and keeping it all out in the open even with a guest in the house. They didn’t care about fighting in front of him, either. That was how far they’d fallen. And that was the stress trigger for the UnSub.”
“Bullshit,” Barnes uttered. Lara ignored him and walked out of the living room in to the corridor. Hoyt followed her.
“She’s gone crazy from all the shock treatment and meds they probably had her on at the loony bin. Not that she wasn’t crazy before she went in,” Barnes chirped.
“If they were fighting, why would the boarder get involved?” Hoyt asked as Lara opened the door to the small guestroom at the back of the house.
The room was
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