Read Online Field of Graves by J.T. Ellison - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J.T. Ellison
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bit her lip, forced herself not to respond. He gave her half a smile, turned his back, and walked away. The hitch in his walk was more pronounced from behind.
Marcus looked at Taylor. “Another friend of David Martin?”
She shook her head. “Yeah.”
“Jerk.”
She wanted to smile, but opened the folder in front of her and read quickly, pleased her voice didn’t waver.
“Okay, Marcus, she was in Carmichael Towers East. The roommate’s name is Vicki Chen. Let’s go have a chat with her.”
They set off across the quad, leaves crackling beneath their feet. Shaking off Graber’s comments, Taylor looked around at the young and carefree as they simply existed. They had nothing more serious to worry about than their next test, their next meal, their next party. No dead bodies lined up in rows at the morgue, no bugs crawling through eye sockets, no sense of their own mortality. Maybe they didn’t watch the news, or if they had heard that one of their own was cooling rapidly in a coffin-sized refrigerator, they simply didn’t care.
Taylor sensed the anxiety creeping up her spine. There was nothing she could do to keep any of them safe. She couldn’t stop the rapes, the murders, the abuse. The thematic judgments began rolling through her brain. I can’t help. I can’t stop them; when one goes down, another meaner and uglier one pops up in its place. Why am I doing this anymore? Why, why, why do I even want to be a cop anymore ?
She was starting to hyperventilate. Marcus was looking at her strangely. She felt light-headed, but refused to make an ass out of herself in front of her youngest detective. She bent down, looking to anyone who cared as if she were tying her shoe.
“Too bad cowboy boots don’t have laces,” she murmured. She sucked in a couple of breaths, felt her heart slow. Looked up at Marcus, gave him a halfhearted smile. He smiled back quizzically, but didn’t ask if she was okay. She wasn’t, but she’d never admit it to him. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone.
11
Shelby Kincaid, by all accounts, was the good girl her parents insisted she was.
Her roommate, Vicki Chen, met them in the dorm room they’d shared. Chen was pretty, with long, dark hair; small, rectangular glasses; jeans tucked into a pair of brown UGGs, the tops of which were turned down to show the interior fleece. She looked like every other student on the Vanderbilt campus.
And she was devastated by her friend’s loss.
“I just don’t understand how this could happen. She was happy, she was working hard, we had tickets for R.E.M., for God’s sake. You know how quickly that show sold out? She had no reason to wander off.”
Taylor had asked Marcus to talk so he could get more interview experience. With a nod from her, he kept pushing.
“Wander off?”
Chen waved a hand in the air. “She must have, to cross paths with a killer. This is Vanderbilt. It’s Nashville. It’s safe here. That’s why all of our parents want us to go to this school, because it’s so safe.”
Taylor wanted to tell her it wasn’t true—there were no safe schools, safe places. Death could strike anywhere, anyone. But she bit her tongue.
“Tell me more about Shelby’s personality, Vicki. What was she like?” Marcus asked.
“Shy. Quiet. She spent most of her time in the library. She was an engineering student, a damn good one. Straight A’s every semester, carrying a 4.0 GPA. She had to keep the scholarship—her parents can’t afford to send her here.”
“What is tuition now?” Taylor asked.
“We’re at thirty-one thousand, and that’s only tuition, doesn’t include books and meals and housing. It’s gotten very expensive to attend Vandy, and the scholarship kids depend on the help. Shelby had a full academic ride, and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.”
“So she’s a good student,” Marcus said. “What else?”
Chen played with the tips of her hair. “Shelby was popular with her teachers, and she seemed
Marcus looked at Taylor. “Another friend of David Martin?”
She shook her head. “Yeah.”
“Jerk.”
She wanted to smile, but opened the folder in front of her and read quickly, pleased her voice didn’t waver.
“Okay, Marcus, she was in Carmichael Towers East. The roommate’s name is Vicki Chen. Let’s go have a chat with her.”
They set off across the quad, leaves crackling beneath their feet. Shaking off Graber’s comments, Taylor looked around at the young and carefree as they simply existed. They had nothing more serious to worry about than their next test, their next meal, their next party. No dead bodies lined up in rows at the morgue, no bugs crawling through eye sockets, no sense of their own mortality. Maybe they didn’t watch the news, or if they had heard that one of their own was cooling rapidly in a coffin-sized refrigerator, they simply didn’t care.
Taylor sensed the anxiety creeping up her spine. There was nothing she could do to keep any of them safe. She couldn’t stop the rapes, the murders, the abuse. The thematic judgments began rolling through her brain. I can’t help. I can’t stop them; when one goes down, another meaner and uglier one pops up in its place. Why am I doing this anymore? Why, why, why do I even want to be a cop anymore ?
She was starting to hyperventilate. Marcus was looking at her strangely. She felt light-headed, but refused to make an ass out of herself in front of her youngest detective. She bent down, looking to anyone who cared as if she were tying her shoe.
“Too bad cowboy boots don’t have laces,” she murmured. She sucked in a couple of breaths, felt her heart slow. Looked up at Marcus, gave him a halfhearted smile. He smiled back quizzically, but didn’t ask if she was okay. She wasn’t, but she’d never admit it to him. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone.
11
Shelby Kincaid, by all accounts, was the good girl her parents insisted she was.
Her roommate, Vicki Chen, met them in the dorm room they’d shared. Chen was pretty, with long, dark hair; small, rectangular glasses; jeans tucked into a pair of brown UGGs, the tops of which were turned down to show the interior fleece. She looked like every other student on the Vanderbilt campus.
And she was devastated by her friend’s loss.
“I just don’t understand how this could happen. She was happy, she was working hard, we had tickets for R.E.M., for God’s sake. You know how quickly that show sold out? She had no reason to wander off.”
Taylor had asked Marcus to talk so he could get more interview experience. With a nod from her, he kept pushing.
“Wander off?”
Chen waved a hand in the air. “She must have, to cross paths with a killer. This is Vanderbilt. It’s Nashville. It’s safe here. That’s why all of our parents want us to go to this school, because it’s so safe.”
Taylor wanted to tell her it wasn’t true—there were no safe schools, safe places. Death could strike anywhere, anyone. But she bit her tongue.
“Tell me more about Shelby’s personality, Vicki. What was she like?” Marcus asked.
“Shy. Quiet. She spent most of her time in the library. She was an engineering student, a damn good one. Straight A’s every semester, carrying a 4.0 GPA. She had to keep the scholarship—her parents can’t afford to send her here.”
“What is tuition now?” Taylor asked.
“We’re at thirty-one thousand, and that’s only tuition, doesn’t include books and meals and housing. It’s gotten very expensive to attend Vandy, and the scholarship kids depend on the help. Shelby had a full academic ride, and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.”
“So she’s a good student,” Marcus said. “What else?”
Chen played with the tips of her hair. “Shelby was popular with her teachers, and she seemed
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