Whispers of the Dead Read Online Free Page A

you got?'Tom asked, reaching in the back of the
station wagon for his case.
'I lore, let me,' I said, lifting it out for him. Scar or no, I was in
better shape than Tom to carry it. For once he didn't argue.
The TBI agent started back up the trail into the trees. 'Body's in a
rental cabin. Manager found it this morning.'
'Definitely homicide?'
'Oh, yeah.'
He didn't enlarge.Tom gave him a curious glance but didn't press.
'Any ID?'
'Got a man's wallet with credit cards and a driver's licence, but we
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can't say for sure if they're the victim's. Body's too far gone for the
photograph to be any use.'
'Any idea how long it might have been here?' I asked without
thinking.
Gardner frowned, and I reminded myself I was only here to help
Tom. 'I was kind of hoping you'd be able to tell us that,' the TBI
agent answered, though to Tom rather than me. 'The pathologist's
still here, but he can't tell us much.'
'Who's the pathologist? Scott?'Tom asked.
'No, Hicks.'
'Ah.'
There was a wealth of meaning in the way Tom said it, none of it
complimentary. But right then I was more concerned with the way
he was starting to labour a little on the uphill trail.
'Just a second,' I said. I set down his case and pretended to fasten
my boot. Gardner looked irritated, but Tom drew in relieved breaths,
making a show of wiping his glasses. He looked pointedly at the way
the agent's shirt was darkened with perspiration.
'Hope you don't mind my asking, Dan, but are you all right? You
seem . . . well, a little feverish.'
Gardner looked down at his damp shirt as though he'd only just
noticed. 'Let's just say it's kinda hot in there.You'll see.'
We set off again. The trail levelled out as the woods parted to
reveal a small, grassy clearing, paved with a gravel path clogged with
weeds. Other paths forked off from it, all of them running to cabins
barely visible amongst the trees. The one we were heading for was at
the furthermost edge of the clearing, well away from the others. It
was small, the outside clad in weather-faded timber. Bright yellow
tape declaring POLICE LINE, DO NOT CROSS in bold black
capitals had been strung across the path leading to its door, and there
was the usual bustle of activity around it.
This was the first crime scene I'd attended in the US. In most
regards it was the same as I was used to, but the subtle differences
gave it an unreal quality. A group ofTBI forensic agents in white
overalls were standing by the cabin, their faces flushed and sweating
as they drank thirstily from bottles of water. Gardner led us to where
a young woman in a smart business suit was talking with an overweight
man whose bald head shone like a polished egg. He was
completely hairless, without even eyebrows or eyelashes. It gave him
a look that was both newborn and slightly reptilian.
He turned as we approached, thin mouth splitting in a smile when
he saw Tom. But it was a humourless one.
'Wondered when you'd show up, Lieberman.'
'Just as soon as I got the call, Donald,'Tom said.
'Surprised you needed one.Y'all could smell this one all the way
to Knoxville.'
He chuckled, unperturbed that no one else seemed to find the joke
funny. I guessed that this was Hicks, the pathologist Gardner had
mentioned. The young woman he'd been talking to was slim, with the
compact athleticism of a gymnast. She held herself with an almost
military bearing, a look emphasized by the navy blue jacket and skirt
and short-cropped dark hair. She wore no make-up, but didn't need it.
Only her mouth let down the clinical appearance; full and curving, the
lips hinted at a sensuality the rest of her seemed at pains to deny.
Her grey eyes settled on me briefly, expressionless but coldly
assessing. Against the lightly tanned skin of her face, the whites
seemed to shine with health.
Gardner made quick introductions. 'Tom, this is Diane Jacobsen.
She's just joined the Field Investigations Unit. This is her first
homicide,