Field of Graves Read Online Free Page B

Wills.
    “Do their stories match?”
    “Yeah, to a tee. They’re really shook up. Do you want to talk to him, or can I take ’em now?”
    Taylor felt the headache deepen. She rubbed her forehead. “Go ahead, get them out of here. Better if the cameras don’t get a shot of their faces. Thanks, Wills. You did a good job here this morning. Can you leave a copy of your report on my desk as soon as you get it done? And gather up everyone else’s, too?”
    “Sure thing, LT. I’ll bring them up ASAP.”
    Looking around, she corralled Fitz and told him to get back to the squad as soon as he could get away. The boys from the ME’s team had bagged the body and were rolling the stretcher toward their plain white van. Though most people wouldn’t give a medical examiner’s vehicle a second glance, the van’s circumspect attempt at discretion didn’t fool the media, who followed every movement with their cameras, even running after the van as it pulled away. With some good B-roll filler on tape, they turned for another source. Taylor was fifty feet away, walking with her head down, ostensibly looking to avoid the muck left behind by the ducks and geese. The yells started.
    “Lieutenant!” screamed Channel 5.
    The NBC affiliate chimed in. “Who is the victim? What was cause of death?”
    Their onslaught beat in time with the throbbing in Taylor’s head. It wasn’t unusual for her to make statements at a crime scene; normally she was fine with the cameras. Taylor had striking good looks that she worked to her advantage when necessary. Huge gray eyes—the right slightly darker than the left—shifted between clear smoke and stormy steel, depending on her mood. Lips just a touch too full encased orthodontically enhanced straight white teeth, and a slightly crooked nose gave her countenance a vaguely asymmetrical aspect. She was nearly six feet, blond and rangy, with a deep voice, husky and cracked.
    This particular morning, though, with dark smudges under her eyes, a hasty ponytail, and a nasty headache, she looked slightly less than ethereal.
    “No comment, guys. I’m sure we’ll have something to say later on.”
    “C’mon, Taylor. You need to let us know so we can make the noon report.” A flaxen-haired beauty from Channel 2, her rectangular tortoiseshell glasses sliding down her well-done nose job, stuck a mic in her face. “Just give us something,” she pleaded.
    Lee Mayfield of The Tennessean gave Taylor an inquiring smile. Taylor shook her head; she’d be damned if she gave the paper’s crime reporter anything. Besides, the woman would spin it her own way and distort the facts anyway. Let her do it on her own.
    “You have to give us something to go on, Lieutenant,” the latest talking head from Channel 17 admonished.
    Taylor whipped around, her limited patience worn through. Spotlights glowed in her eyes, blinding her for a moment. Blinking back into focus, she said, “I said we’ll have something for you later. Now quit lurking around my crime scene. You’re making my team’s work difficult.”
    Taylor turned her back on them, hurried across the small parking lot in front of Lake Watauga, jumped into her unmarked squad car. Wow, she’d let them get to her. Not very professional. It seemed every little thing got to her these days. Oh well, it would give them something fun to work on for their precious stories: Lead Investigator Loses Temper.
    “Jerks,” she said vehemently, rubbing her temples. She watched the press milling around their trucks, each trying to find a spin on her blatant and sarcastic remarks.
    One by one, she saw the cameras start to point at the sky. A banner day for Nashville’s reporters. A murder and an eclipse, all tied up in one tidy little package for them. The noon broadcasts really were going to be chock-full of fun.
    She pulled to the east entrance of the park, noticing the Park Police weren’t letting anyone in, on foot or by car. At least they were making themselves