Read Online Hold Tight by Harlan Coben - Free Book Online

her face into a meat grinder.”
    Loren Muse looked down at the body. She let the two uniforms jabber. Some people jabber to ward off the nerves. Muse wasn’t one of them. They ignored her. So did Tremont. She was his immediate superior, all their superiors really, and she could feel the resentment coming off them like humidity from the sidewalk.
    “Yo, Muse.”
    It was Tremont. She looked at him in that brown suit with the belly from too many nights of beer and too many days of doughnuts. He was trouble. There had been complaints leaked to the media since she’d been promoted to chief investigator of Essex County. Most came from a reporter named Tom Gaughan, who just so happened to be married to Tremont’s sister.
    “What is it, Frank?”
    “Like I asked you before-what the hell are you doing here?”
    “I need to explain myself to you?”
    “I caught this one.”
    “So you did.”
    “And I don’t need you looking over my shoulder.”
    Frank Tremont was an incompetent ass but because of his personal connections and years of “service,” fairly untouchable. Muse ignored him. She bent down, still staring at the raw meat that had once been a face.
    “You get an ID yet?” she asked.
    “No. No wallet, no purse.”
    “Probably stolen,” one of the uniforms volunteered.
    Lots of male head-nodding.
    “Gang got her,” Tremont said. “Look at that.”
    He pointed to a green bandana still clutched in her hand. “Could be that new gang, bunch of black guys who call themselves Al Qaeda,” one of the uniforms said. “They wear green.”
    Muse stood and started circling the corpse. The ME van arrived. Someone had police-taped the scene. A dozen hookers, maybe more, stood behind the line, each stretching her neck for a better view.
    “Have the uniforms start talking to the working girls,” Muse said. “Get a street name at least.”
    “Gee, really?” Frank Tremont sighed dramatically. “You don’t think I already thought of that?”
    Loren Muse said nothing.
    "Hey, Muse.”
    “What, Frank?”
    “I don’t like you being here.”
    “And I don’t like that brown belt with black shoes. But we both have to live with it.”
    “This isn’t right.”
    Muse knew that he had a point. The truth is, she loved her prestigious new position as chief investigator. Muse, still in her thirties, was the first female to hold that title. She was proud. But she missed the actual work. She missed homicide. So she got involved when she could, especially when a seasoned jackass like Frank Tremont was on the job.
    The medical examiner, Tara O’Neill, came over and shooed the uniforms away.
    “Holy crap,” O’Neill whispered.
    “Nice reaction, Doc,” Tremont said. “I need prints right away so I can run her through the system.”
    The ME nodded.
    “I’m going to help question the hookers, round up some of the leading gang scumbags,” Tremont said. “If that’s okay with you, boss.”
    Muse didn’t respond.
    “Dead hooker, Muse. There isn’t really enough of a headline for you here. Hardly a priority.”
    “Why isn’t she a priority?”
    “Huh?”
    “You said not a headline for me here. I get that. And then you added, ‘hardly a priority.’ Why not?”
    Tremont smirked. “Oh, right, my bad. A dead hooker is priority number one. We treat her like the governor’s wife was just whacked.”
    “That attitude, Frank. It’s why I’m here.”
    “Right, sure, that’s why. Let me tell you how people look at dead hookers.”
    “Don’t tell me-like they’re asking for it?”
    “No. But listen and you might learn: If you don’t want to end up dead by a Dumpster, don’t turn tricks in the Fifth Ward.”
    “You ought to make that your epitaph,” Muse said.
    “Don’t get me wrong. I will get this sicko. But let’s not play games about priorities and headlines.” Tremont moved a little closer, so that his belly was almost pressing against her. Muse did not back up. “This is my case. Go back to your desk and