Read Online Robert B. Parker's Debt to Pay by Reed Farrel Coleman - Free Book Online Page A

Morris had confirmed that Gino kept the .38 in his top drawer.
    He called Tamara Elkin, the local ME. They’d become close friends over the last year or so, though Tamara never made it a secret that she would have preferred the bounds of their friendship extend into the bedroom. But Jesse had held fast to his devotion to Diana even when she was still down in D.C., putting her life back in order and ending her career at the Bureau.
    â€œHey, cowboy,” she said when she heard Jesse’s voice. Tamara had spent years in Texas and liked to tease Jesse that he was the embodiment of the cowboy myth. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
    â€œA favor.”
    â€œDo I get to call in a favor in return?” she asked, her voice suddenly deeper and raspy.
    â€œDepends on the favor.”
    â€œI’ve seen Diana,” she said, her voice back to normal. “I’ve got no shot. I wish I didn’t like her so much. Makes it hard to be as jealous as I want to be.”
    â€œDon’t sell yourself short, Doc.”
    She ignored that. “So what’s the favor?”
    â€œI need you to go over a file for me, including an autopsy report and crime scene photos.”
    â€œSure. Just bring it by whenever. What is it I’m looking for, exactly?”
    â€œInconsistencies.”
    â€œThat all?” she asked, skeptical.
    â€œI don’t want to prejudice you. See what you see and we’ll talk.”
    â€œOkay. So, Jesse . . . how’s the not drinking coming along?”
    He could hear the ice in her drink rattling around in the background. Their mutual love of Johnnie Walker Black was one of the things that had helped cement their friendship. Sometimes when she asked him questions about his drinking, he could swear she was rooting against his success. He guessed he understood her point of view.
    â€œSome days are rougher than others,” he said.
    â€œLike tonight?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œOkay, Jesse, I’ll see you when you drop the file by.”
    â€œTomorrow.”
    â€œUntil tomorrow,” she said, and then clicked off.
    He closed the file, got up off the recliner, and ambled into thekitchen to whip up some eggs for dinner. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. When he fished it out and looked at the screen, he saw that the call was from a strange number with a 214 area code. Dallas. He recalled what he had said a few minutes before to Tamara Elkin. Some nights truly were rougher than others.

SEVENTEEN
    T he mystery was short-lived. He didn’t have to be a police chief or an ex–homicide detective to work out who was on the other end of the line. It wasn’t Jenn. Jenn had retained her old cell number with the Boston area code. He stared at the screen for a long moment, thinking about letting it go to voice mail. He weighed the value in postponing the inevitable. Though he didn’t know much about Hale Hunsicker beyond his home state, his college football career, wealth, and taste in women, Jesse got the sense that Hunsicker wasn’t the type of man to surrender easily. And phone tag was one of Jesse’s least favorite games.
    â€œHale,” Jesse said, picking up.
    â€œJesse.”
    In just the way he said his name, Jesse could tell this wasn’t the same version of Hale Hunsicker he’d gotten the other night. The other night he’d gotten the happy, friendly, good-ole-boy version. He supposed part of that was performance for Jenn’s sake.
    â€œWhat’s up, Hale?”
    â€œFrom everything Jenn tells me about you, I figure you to know exactly what’s up.”
    This was definitely a different Hale Hunsicker on the phone. No “our girl” references, no offers to go shooting and riding out at the ranch. But Jesse didn’t necessarily hold Hunsicker’s more businesslike tone against him. Jesse had been in this man’s shoes and had many more years’ experience