When Death Draws Near Read Online Free

short strokes, rotating my pencil to keep the tip sharp.
    The phone rang.
    I jumped. Reaching the phone on the second ring, I picked up the handset. “Hello?”
    Silence, then a dial tone.
    I stared at the phone a minute, then walked to the door and threw the dead bolt. Returning to my work, I checked the photograph against my sketch. Fortunately the coroner hadn’t washed the body before I had time to photograph it, and I could see the rough outline of the hair style and color. Once the body was rinsed, the hair appeared darker and any style disappeared.
    I need to talk to Shelby Lee pretty soon or I’ll be out of time. I fly out the day after tomorrow.
    Two hours later, I was finishing up. The ravaged face had turned into a rather handsome young man under my moving pencil.
    After photographing the drawing, I uploaded the digital image to my printer and printed out several copies. I backed up the image on a flash drive. The copies and flash drive went into a plastic file folder for the sheriff. As I tucked the original sketch into a small portfolio, my stomach grumbled, reminding me I’d managed to miss lunch. When I stood and stretched, my muscles joined the protest.
    “Food, then a long bath,” I informed the empty room, then pulled out the various dinner menus I’d picked up. Several looked promising. I turned my cell back on. It showed a missed call and a voice message. Click , then a woman’s voice: “Gwen Marcey? This is Dr. West’s office calling from the Cancer Center. Dr. West would like you to make an appointment for some additional tests as soon as possible.” A phone number followed.
    My throat dried, and I wrote down the number with a trembling hand. After hanging up, I covered my mouth to hold back the groan.
    I glanced at my watch. I was on eastern time, but the Cancer Center was on mountain. They’d still be open. I dialed.
    “Five Valley Cancer Center. How may I direct your call?”
    “I received a message from Dr. West. This is Gwen Marcey.”
    “Just a moment.”
    Another click , then the same woman’s voice came on the line. “Hi, Mrs. Marcey. Dr. West wanted me to—”
    “What is it?”
    A pause. “Well, the doctor would be the one—”
    “I’m in Kentucky working on a case. I won’t be home for . . . um . . . weeks. I . . . I need to know if this is an emergency.”
    There was a pause. “This is in reference to your routine tests a week ago. Dr. West just returned from vacation and has had a chance to go over the results. They’re . . . not within the normal range.”
    “Okay.” I made an effort to stop squeezing the phone. “So. You’re saying my cancer has returned.”
    “You’ll need to see the doctor. As soon as possible.”

CHAPTER THREE
    AFTER DISCONNECTING, I STARED AT THE DESKTOP. God, how can You do this to me?
    God didn’t answer.
    I dialed Beth’s number. The answering machine picked up after four rings. I hung up without leaving a message.
    Cancer. Again.
    A call to my fifteen-year-old daughter, Aynslee, was next. The call went to voice mail.
    I sold my house to pay for the last of the doctor bills. And the new place is delayed because I’m out of money.
    Dave had left for the Torch Run in Seattle.
    Robert, my ex-husband, would hardly be someone I’d want to talk to. He’d divorced me because of my cancer and was now involved with his new wife and writing career.
    I found myself pacing and stopped.
    How would I pay for cancer treatments this time? Insurance would kick in with the new job. But would I still have a job if I was battling cancer?
    Shaking my head, I picked up the phone and dialed. Sheriff Reed’s recorded voice greeted me. I disconnected without leaving a message.
    I wandered to the kitchen and stared at the sketch I’d completed. I’d drawn one iris darker than the other. I picked up a pencil and adjusted the drawing. Someone needs to know you are never coming home.
    Those dark spots on Shelby Lee’s neck were from his fingers squeezing