Read Online Blood of Eden by Tami Dane - Free Book Online Page A

Deborah Richardson’s hometown. I had no idea if JT noticed or not. He didn’t say anything.
    By the time JT’s car rolled up the Richardsons’ driveway, I didn’t need to know the lead detective had called JT to confirm her identity. The cars parked out in front of the house told the whole story.
    JT parked. We hurried up to the house.
    Inside, we found a tired man in his midthirties with a pale face, made paler by bloodshot eyes. He was talking to a detective, arms crossed over his chest.
    â€œAgent Jordan Thomas and Sloan Skye,” JT said to the detective.
    The detective nodded. “Agent?”
    â€œFBI,” JT explained.
    â€œAgent Thomas, this is Trey Chapman,” the detective said. “And I’m Detective McRoy.”
    JT offered a hand to McRoy first, then Chapman. “Sir, we’re very sorry for your loss.”
    The man blinked. His lips quirked. Not in a smile, but in a grimace. He sniffled. “Thank you. This is all such a shock.”
    â€œI’m sure it is.” I offered him my hand next, and he accepted it, giving it a firm shake.
    JT pulled his notebook from his pocket. “We’re going to do our best to find out what happened to your ... ?”
    â€œFiancée,” Chapman finished. “We’ve been engaged for over two years.” He sighed, shoved his hands through his hair, and mumbled something under his breath.
    I didn’t catch what he’d said. Sure wish I had.
    McRoy checked his phone. “I’ve gotta take this call. I’ll be in touch, Mr. Chapman, as soon as I have any more information.”
    â€œThank you, Detective.” Chapman turned to JT. “I don’t understand. Why all the fuss? FBI? Debbie got sick and she ... and she died. There’s no crime to solve.... Is there?”
    â€œWe’re not saying there is, sir. We’re just checking out some information that may or may not be related to your fiancée’s death.”
    â€œWhat information?” Chapman crossed his arms over his chest.
    â€œI’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.” JT flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. “Would you mind answering a few questions for us?”
    â€œI ... don’t know. Do I need a lawyer?” He looked at me, as if I would tell him whether he was under any kind of suspicion or not. What was I supposed to say?
    â€œYou don’t have to answer any question you’re not comfortable with,” I told him. That, I figured, was a safe answer.
    Chapman gave me another look, then nodded. “Okay.”
    I glanced around the living room. “Do you mind if I take a look around the house while you’re talking to Agent Thomas? See if I can find anything that might tell us how your fiancée became ill?”
    He scowled. “I—I guess that would be okay.”
    I gave him a reassuring smile. “Thank you.”
    Now what? I had permission to search the house, and I had no freaking idea what I was looking for. Because my time was limited—I couldn’t wander around all day—I headed upstairs to the victim’s bedroom first, thinking I’d start in one of the most private parts of her home.
    Her bedroom was tidy, the bed made. There were no medicine bottles on the nightstand.
    This room looked nothing like mine when I was sick.
    I wandered into the bathroom, still not sure what I was looking for. It was spotless too, nothing out of place. I felt kind of creepy taking a peek in her medicine cabinet, but I needed to see if she had any medications that might indicate she was treating symptoms of dengue hemorrhagic fever. I knew the symptoms could appear anywhere from three to fourteen days after infection, but they were severe. Chills, fever, rash, vomiting—eventually leading to a shocklike state. I don’t know how anyone could ignore those kinds of symptoms.
    I found a bottle of expired over-the-counter pain reliever and a