Read Online Deserves to Die by Lisa Jackson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lisa Jackson
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him going again. Spent nearly forty minutes trying to get a pulse—defibrillation, epinephrine, whatever it is they do to bring someone back, but it was over. They couldn’t revive him.” He glanced from Pescoli who’d gone numb with disbelief to Alvarez who turned her head away, probably to hide her tears.
“What the hell happened?” Pescoli demanded, gesturing angrily. “He was getting better. Stable, that’s what the hospital and his damn doctor said. They even moved him out of ICU because he’d improved, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “He was shot in the head, not the heart, for Christ’s sake! His heart was fine. Strong.” She swung back to look at Alvarez for confirmation, but her partner didn’t respond. To Blackwater, she snapped again, “What the hell happened?”
“The hospital is checking. Could be that the injuries he sustained were too much for him and his heart just stopped,” Blackwater said without his usual bluster. To his credit, he seemed genuinely disconsolate. “I don’t know. No one does. Yet. He’d been through a lot.”
“Through a lot and out the other side!” Pescoli insisted, though the truth, like the steadily falling snow, was cold and bleak as it settled over her. “Oh . . . oh Jesus,” she finally said in a rush as she started to believe what Blackwater was saying.
“I came out to tell you myself, so you wouldn’t hear it on the police band or the news or from someone else.”
Alvarez let out a soft moan.
“They told us he would be all right,” Pescoli said. “And those bastards lied.” Turning to Alvarez, she said, “Let’s go.”
“Where?” her partner asked and even as she did, she seemed to stiffen her spine, to gain control, her mask of always cool detachment slipping back into place.
“To the hospital to get some damn answers. To find out what went on, why they lost him.” As she said the words, the full truth hit her like a ton of bricks. Grayson was gone. Forever. She’d been there when he’d been shot and in her mind’s eye, it was Christmas morning once more and she watched in horror as the bullets from a hidden assassin’s rifle had struck the tall man with kind eyes and a thick moustache.
Grayson’s body had spun with the first bullet, his ever-present Stetson flying off his head, the split kindling he’d been carrying flying end over end to land on the snow-covered earth. With the second shot, his head had snapped back and he’d fallen to the snowy ground and lay inert. Pescoli, who had been driving to his house to ask about cutting back her hours, never got the chance.
She’d been the first responder, viewed his blood, prayed like she’d never prayed before and then had sworn vengeance on his assailant, that coward who had hidden in the snowdrifts with a high-powered rifle aimed straight at Dan Grayson.
“Son of a bitch!” she said angrily and kicked one of the Jeep’s tires in fury.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Blackwater said. “You’ve got a new case to investigate with the Jane Doe found right here, so I suggest you start.” He frowned. “Hell, I know this is a blow for the two of you and the whole department. That’s why I came out, but that doesn’t mean we still don’t have jobs to do.” Snow was collecting on the brim of his hat and shoulders of his jacket. Though there was a trace of compassion in his eyes, he remained rigid, ever in charge. “The Missoula police are on the scene and the hospital is double-checking every procedure, all of his vital signs records, every report and notation. Of course, there will be an autopsy.”
“Fuck the autopsy!” Pescoli said, her anger exploding. “I’m going to the hospital, whether you like it or not!”
“Detective,” he warned.
But Pescoli was already around the Jeep and behind the wheel.
Alvarez slid into the passenger seat. “Let’s go,” she said in an out-of-character display of disobeying her commanding
“What the hell happened?” Pescoli demanded, gesturing angrily. “He was getting better. Stable, that’s what the hospital and his damn doctor said. They even moved him out of ICU because he’d improved, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “He was shot in the head, not the heart, for Christ’s sake! His heart was fine. Strong.” She swung back to look at Alvarez for confirmation, but her partner didn’t respond. To Blackwater, she snapped again, “What the hell happened?”
“The hospital is checking. Could be that the injuries he sustained were too much for him and his heart just stopped,” Blackwater said without his usual bluster. To his credit, he seemed genuinely disconsolate. “I don’t know. No one does. Yet. He’d been through a lot.”
“Through a lot and out the other side!” Pescoli insisted, though the truth, like the steadily falling snow, was cold and bleak as it settled over her. “Oh . . . oh Jesus,” she finally said in a rush as she started to believe what Blackwater was saying.
“I came out to tell you myself, so you wouldn’t hear it on the police band or the news or from someone else.”
Alvarez let out a soft moan.
“They told us he would be all right,” Pescoli said. “And those bastards lied.” Turning to Alvarez, she said, “Let’s go.”
“Where?” her partner asked and even as she did, she seemed to stiffen her spine, to gain control, her mask of always cool detachment slipping back into place.
“To the hospital to get some damn answers. To find out what went on, why they lost him.” As she said the words, the full truth hit her like a ton of bricks. Grayson was gone. Forever. She’d been there when he’d been shot and in her mind’s eye, it was Christmas morning once more and she watched in horror as the bullets from a hidden assassin’s rifle had struck the tall man with kind eyes and a thick moustache.
Grayson’s body had spun with the first bullet, his ever-present Stetson flying off his head, the split kindling he’d been carrying flying end over end to land on the snow-covered earth. With the second shot, his head had snapped back and he’d fallen to the snowy ground and lay inert. Pescoli, who had been driving to his house to ask about cutting back her hours, never got the chance.
She’d been the first responder, viewed his blood, prayed like she’d never prayed before and then had sworn vengeance on his assailant, that coward who had hidden in the snowdrifts with a high-powered rifle aimed straight at Dan Grayson.
“Son of a bitch!” she said angrily and kicked one of the Jeep’s tires in fury.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Blackwater said. “You’ve got a new case to investigate with the Jane Doe found right here, so I suggest you start.” He frowned. “Hell, I know this is a blow for the two of you and the whole department. That’s why I came out, but that doesn’t mean we still don’t have jobs to do.” Snow was collecting on the brim of his hat and shoulders of his jacket. Though there was a trace of compassion in his eyes, he remained rigid, ever in charge. “The Missoula police are on the scene and the hospital is double-checking every procedure, all of his vital signs records, every report and notation. Of course, there will be an autopsy.”
“Fuck the autopsy!” Pescoli said, her anger exploding. “I’m going to the hospital, whether you like it or not!”
“Detective,” he warned.
But Pescoli was already around the Jeep and behind the wheel.
Alvarez slid into the passenger seat. “Let’s go,” she said in an out-of-character display of disobeying her commanding
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