Read Online A taint in the blood by Dana Stabenow - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dana Stabenow
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery Fiction, Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, Women Private Investigators, Fiction - Mystery, Crime & mystery, alaska, Crime thriller, Mothers and daughters, Shugak; Kate (Fictitious character), Women private investigators - Alaska, Murder Victims' Families, Arson Investigation, Women prisoners
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with the idea of applying for a loan. She remembered in time that she didn't need to buy anything her checking account couldn't cover and got the hell out of there.
Hiland Mountain Correctional Facility housed women convicts and male sex offenders, which Kate had never understood. She'd been in and out of the place often when she'd worked for Jack, but a new governor had been elected since then and all the faces were new, including the fresh-faced young woman riding the desk out front, who hadn't been lied to by enough cons to have lost her innocence. She frowned prettily at Kate. "You want to see Victoria Muravieff ?"
"Yes, Officer."
The young woman, whose badge was difficult to sort out from all the other patches and shields adorning her bountiful bosom but whose name Kate thought might be T. Offerut, looked Kate over. Kate tolerated the examination of her attire—her usual jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes, no coat because it was in the blisteringly high seventies—with what passed for her for equanimity.
The young woman realized that the frown was producing an unsightly line across her forehead, smoothed it away with one hand, and turned the frown into a smile. "Of course, you must be the one from UAA," she said, as if that and that alone would explain the jeans.
Kate didn't deny it.
"May I see some identification, please?"
Kate produced her driver's license, was deemed to be who she really was, and was permitted entry. When the door closed behind her with a solid thud, she had the same reaction she always did: an overwhelming wave of claustrophobia, which was not alleviated by the wall of windows that lined one side of the large room to which she had been admitted and which looked out on a spectacular view of the Chugach Mountains. The worst part of Kate's job with the district attorney had been having to enter various correctional facilities around the state voluntarily to interview perps. She'd hated it then, and she hated it now. She took a deep breath, trying to fill her lungs with fresh air that wasn't there.
The room was filled with long tables and plastic bucket chairs, and there were a couple of kids running around, obviously on visits to their mothers, who were hunched over tables, talking either to their mothers or their lawyers. At another table, a group of women were laboring over some arts and crafts project. A couple of them were in bright orange jumpsuits, which meant that they had misbehaved in some way on the inside, which could mean anything from petty theft to assault. A majority of them were Native and black, big surprise.
Kate was ushered to a chair at the end of one table and told firmly to wait there. She sat. Lunch was being cooked somewhere— burgers, at a guess—and her stomach growled.
"Kate Shugak?"
She looked up and saw a woman standing in front of her. The last time Kate had seen her, Kate had been seated in the witness chair and she had been at the defendant's table next to a public defender who was trying to impeach Kate's testimony. Kate searched her memory and dredged up a name and, with a little more effort, a case file. "Myra Hartsock," she said. Child endangerment, fourth offense, and the judge had taken away her children and evidently thrown enough jail time at her to keep her in Hiland for six years.
"Are you here to see me?" Myra said.
"No," Kate said.
"I'm sober now."
"I see that."
"And I'm straight. I been straight for four, going on five years now."
"Good for you."
Myra hesitated, hands clenched on the edge of her tray. "My kids," she said. "I see them sometimes."
"Really."
Myra nodded. "My mother brings them here to visit me."
"Good for her."
"I read to them, and we play games."
"Good for you."
Myra gestured with her head. "I've been working in the prison greenhouse. My case officer says she thinks she can place me in a job pretty easy when I get
Hiland Mountain Correctional Facility housed women convicts and male sex offenders, which Kate had never understood. She'd been in and out of the place often when she'd worked for Jack, but a new governor had been elected since then and all the faces were new, including the fresh-faced young woman riding the desk out front, who hadn't been lied to by enough cons to have lost her innocence. She frowned prettily at Kate. "You want to see Victoria Muravieff ?"
"Yes, Officer."
The young woman, whose badge was difficult to sort out from all the other patches and shields adorning her bountiful bosom but whose name Kate thought might be T. Offerut, looked Kate over. Kate tolerated the examination of her attire—her usual jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes, no coat because it was in the blisteringly high seventies—with what passed for her for equanimity.
The young woman realized that the frown was producing an unsightly line across her forehead, smoothed it away with one hand, and turned the frown into a smile. "Of course, you must be the one from UAA," she said, as if that and that alone would explain the jeans.
Kate didn't deny it.
"May I see some identification, please?"
Kate produced her driver's license, was deemed to be who she really was, and was permitted entry. When the door closed behind her with a solid thud, she had the same reaction she always did: an overwhelming wave of claustrophobia, which was not alleviated by the wall of windows that lined one side of the large room to which she had been admitted and which looked out on a spectacular view of the Chugach Mountains. The worst part of Kate's job with the district attorney had been having to enter various correctional facilities around the state voluntarily to interview perps. She'd hated it then, and she hated it now. She took a deep breath, trying to fill her lungs with fresh air that wasn't there.
The room was filled with long tables and plastic bucket chairs, and there were a couple of kids running around, obviously on visits to their mothers, who were hunched over tables, talking either to their mothers or their lawyers. At another table, a group of women were laboring over some arts and crafts project. A couple of them were in bright orange jumpsuits, which meant that they had misbehaved in some way on the inside, which could mean anything from petty theft to assault. A majority of them were Native and black, big surprise.
Kate was ushered to a chair at the end of one table and told firmly to wait there. She sat. Lunch was being cooked somewhere— burgers, at a guess—and her stomach growled.
"Kate Shugak?"
She looked up and saw a woman standing in front of her. The last time Kate had seen her, Kate had been seated in the witness chair and she had been at the defendant's table next to a public defender who was trying to impeach Kate's testimony. Kate searched her memory and dredged up a name and, with a little more effort, a case file. "Myra Hartsock," she said. Child endangerment, fourth offense, and the judge had taken away her children and evidently thrown enough jail time at her to keep her in Hiland for six years.
"Are you here to see me?" Myra said.
"No," Kate said.
"I'm sober now."
"I see that."
"And I'm straight. I been straight for four, going on five years now."
"Good for you."
Myra hesitated, hands clenched on the edge of her tray. "My kids," she said. "I see them sometimes."
"Really."
Myra nodded. "My mother brings them here to visit me."
"Good for her."
"I read to them, and we play games."
"Good for you."
Myra gestured with her head. "I've been working in the prison greenhouse. My case officer says she thinks she can place me in a job pretty easy when I get
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