Read Online An Ice Cold Grave by Charlaine Harris - Free Book Online

way, it was nice to see the sun; I only wished I could be out in it, though from the bundled look of the people I could see on the screen it was still pretty damn cold.
    I ignored the commentary and stared instead at the figures behind the newscaster. Some of them were wearing law enforcement uniforms but others were wearing coveralls. Those must be the tech guys from SBI. The two men in suits, they would be Klavin and Stuart. I was proud of myself for remembering their names.
    I wondered how long it would be before someone came to see me. I hoped no one from the media would try to call me in the hospital or come in to see me. Maybe I could be released tomorrow and we could follow our plan of getting out of town to keep a little distance between us and the crimes.
    I’d been rambling on in my head about this for a few minutes when inevitability knocked at the door.
    Two men in suits and ties; exactly what I didn’t want to see.
    â€œI’m Pell Klavin, this is Max Stuart,” the shorter man said. He was about forty-five, and he was trim and well dressed. His hair was beginning to show a little gray, and his shoes were gleaming. He wore wire-rimmed glasses. “We’re from the State Bureau of Investigation.” Agent Stuart was a little younger and his hair was a lot lighter, so if he had gray he wasn’t showing it. He was just as shipshape as Agent Klavin.
    I nodded, and I was immediately sorry. I gingerly touched my bandaged head. Though that head felt like it was going to fall off (and that would be an improvement over how it felt now), the bandage still felt dry and secure. My left arm ached.
    â€œMs. Connelly, we hear you got attacked last night,” Agent Stuart said.
    â€œYes,” I said. I was angry with myself for sending Tolliver away, and irrationally angry with him for taking me at my word and going.
    â€œWe’re mighty sorry about that,” Klavin said, exuding so much down-home charm I thought I might throw up. “Can you tell us why you were attacked?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “I can’t. Probably something to do with the graves, though.”
    â€œI’m glad you brought that up,” Stuart said. “Can you describe how you found those graves? What prior knowledge you had?”
    â€œNo prior knowledge,” I said. It seemed they weren’t interested in the attack on me anymore, and frankly, I could understand why. I’d lived. Eight other people hadn’t.
    â€œAnd how did you know they were there?” Klavin asked. His eyebrows shot up in a questioning arch. “Did you know one of the victims?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “I’ve never been here before.”
    I lay back wearily, able to predict the whole conversation. It was so unnecessary. They weren’t going to believe, they would try to discover some reason I’d be lying about how I found the bodies, they’d waste time and taxpayer money trying to establish a connection between me and one of the victims, or me and the killer. That connection didn’t exist, and no amount of searching would uncover one.
    I clutched the covers with my hands, as if they were patience.
    â€œI don’t know any of the boys buried in the graves,” I said. “I don’t know who killed them, either. I expect there’s a file on me somewhere that you can read, that’ll give you the background on me. Can we just assume this conversation is already over?”
    â€œAh, no, I don’t think we can assume that,” Klavin said.
    I groaned. “Oh, come on, guys, give me some rest,” I said. “I feel terrible, I need to sleep, and I have nothing to do with your investigation. I just find ’em. From now on, it’s your job.”
    â€œYou’re telling us,” Stuart said, sounding as skeptical as a man can sound, “that you just find corpses at random.”
    â€œOf course it’s not at random,” I said. “That