Read Online Death Deserved (A Detective Jackson Mystery) by L.J. Sellers - Free Book Online

short, uneven, and had splashes of fuchsia polish from the week before. Her overall appearance didn’t seem to match her clear, focused eyes. “I took a print before you woke up, so I’ll know your real name soon.” If the victim was in the system. “If you lie to me, you’ll look like a suspect. Even if you weren’t the shooter, you could have been working with the perp.”
    “I was shot?” The woman lifted the white blanket and looked down at her belly.
    Great . Another victim who either didn’t remember anything or wasn’t willing to admit she did. Considering that the woman was probably using an alias, Evans wasn’t buying the act. “Cut the crap and tell me who you are and what happened this morning.”
    “I don’t know!” Distress in her voice now. “The last thing I remember is driving out to help my boyfriend.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “Josh Stalling. Is he all right?” Wide-open eyes.
    “Not really. Tell me everything you know about him.”
    “I don’t feel well.” The patient glanced at the nurse. “Can you bring me something for pain and nausea?”
    What was she hiding? “Who shot you?”
    “I don’t know.” She seemed near tears.
    The nurse moved toward Evans. “I think you should leave now. You’re upsetting her, and we don’t want the bleeding to start again.”
    “Just give me your real name, and we can finish the rest of this conversation later.”
    The woman closed her eyes and lay back down.
    Damn . Evans gathered up the fingerprint kit, except for the card, which she held by a corner. It still had to dry for a moment. Before leaving, she glanced back at the woman. She’d rolled on her side, facing away from Evans. Phony . Not just her blonde hair, but also her name, her lack of memory, her distress. It all seemed contrived. Please let her prints be in the system.
    Evans climbed into her car. A troubled thought hit her. Was Kayla Benson able to leave the hospital? That seemed unlikely. But would she do it anyway to avoid talking about the incident? Evans started to call Lammers to ask for patrol-officer support, then realized her mistake. For now, Jackson was the person in charge of allocating the team’s resources. She pressed the first contact in her speed-dial list and waited for him to pick up. Would he trust her instinct about Benson? Or would he be conservative with his new authority?
    All of it was speculation. Kayla Benson might simply be afraid to talk to the police about her presence in a marijuana nursery. But instinct told Evans that something bigger was going on. Jackson didn’t answer, so she left a message, requesting police presence at the hospital. At the last moment, she added, “Unless you need me for something else, I’m headed to the address listed on the victim’s driver’s license.”
     
    The Colonial Village was one of the last redbrick buildings downtown. The others had all been replaced by big apartment structures with multicolored blocks of cheap siding and not a tree or shrub in sight. The new units were more expensive, and many were yet to be occupied by the University of Oregon students who were supposed to be moving to Eugene in droves.
    Evans climbed out of her car and felt for the apartment keys in her jacket pocket. She’d slipped them out of the victim’s purse while looking for her ID. Searching the home of a homicide victim was standard procedure. While looking for the purse, she’d come to realize the woman didn’t live in the farmhouse. She’d done a quick search of the Honda in the driveway at the crime scene and found nothing. The cleanliness of the vehicle bugged her now too.
    Apartment five was on the ground floor in the middle of the building and had no lights on. No music or voices filtered through the door either. Good. She’d be able to search freely. Evans knocked loudly, announced her presence, then waited five seconds. No response. The key turned easily in the lock, and she reached for her weapon before