The Sketcher's Mark (Lara McBride Thrillers Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

small, tidy, clean.  The bed was made.  Nothing seemed out of place.  Lara pulled disposable gloves from her pocket, put them on and opened the chest of drawers against the wall.  The paint was peeling, the furniture was old.  Nothing was inside the drawers.  She opened the walk-in closet, pulled the chain that turned on the bare bulb overhead.  Empty.  She ran a finger over one of the shelves.  No dust.
    “Time of death?” she asked.
    “We’re guessing at this point, a couple of hours.”
    “Time for him to clean up, pack up and book.”
    “There’s nothing in here, Lara.  It’s a spare room.  Bed doesn’t even look slept in.”
    “Their boarder was a neat freak.  He wants order in his surroundings because his life doesn’t have any.    They gave him chaos.  They gave him his parents mark two.”
    Barnes leaned against the door, looked around the room.  He wasn’t impressed with Lara McBride but he liked the way she looked in her jeans, sweater and that black leather jacket she always wore.  He licked his lips, involuntarily.  Maybe he could get her drunk one night or mess up her meds and see if she was just as sure in her own bedroom as she was in this one.  Man, that would be something, he thought.
     
    “I say Mr and Mrs Kimchi started arguing about some shit, the garbage, the lottery, who knows, whatever, she grabs a knife and starts going at him, he grabs it off her and cuts her up like his Salisbury steak.  Case closed. Daughter sells the house, goes back to Boston, marries an accountant and we all move on with our lives.”
    “They did a lot of damage to each other,” Hoyt suggested.
    “The TV is set to a rerun channel,” Lara explained,  “it’s probably showing the same show that was on when he was a kid and his parents used to fight.  He got the knife from the kitchen and butchered them in the living room, made it look like they did each other.  Then he washed his plate, packed his stuff, cleaned this room, took a shower and left.”
    “He took a shower?  Who the fuck takes a shower right after they killed two people?  He’d want to get the hell outta here.”
    Hoyt found himself wondering the same thing.
    “He figured the neighbors have heard them fighting so much they don’t care anymore and nobody’s gonna come knocking on the front door to make sure they’re alright.  Our man’s crossed the line now and he knows it.  He needs help, he’s in pain.  Chances are, he’ll probably turn himself in or throw himself off a building.  Either one is fine by me.”
    “This is ridiculous.”  Barnes pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and began to head down the corridor to the front door. 
     
    Hoyt looked at Lara, saw she meant everything she’d just said, as matter of fact as if she had been ordering dinner.
    “Barnes,” Hoyt called.  Barnes stopped, cigarette in his mouth and his lighter in his hand.
    “Don’t tell me you’re buying any of this crap?”
    “If he showered then we need an ultraviolet in the bathroom.  You want to do the honors with Forensics?”
    “I’m not gonna say no to overtime,” Barnes said, putting the cigarette back in the pack and moving in to the living room to harangue one of the Forensics team.
     
    Hoyt stepped inside the guest room and closed the door.  Lara looked at him, knew this conversation was going to happen at some point.  She just didn’t expect it to be now.
    “Why’d you come back?” he asked.  Even though he was only about ten years older, he had adopted a fatherly concern when it came to her.  She appreciated that.  It was nice to know someone cared without an agenda.
    “Why do you?” she countered.
    “Because my wife says I’m sick in the head.”
    “She’s right.”
    “You should hear what she says about you.”
    Lara smiled.  She’d always liked Anna Hoyt, a sincere woman who spoke her mind and made sure there were no secrets in her marriage.  With everything on the table, she