Read Online Sweet Dreams by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online Page A

bikes in a clump of trees and raced on foot back to the dig site, coming up on the northwest side of the park. This time they hid more carefully and didn’t speak.
    â€œ. . . can’t be serious!” the Mississippi County coroner was saying. “No blood in her?”
    â€œCheck it yourself,” Jerry told him.
    The coroner did just that. When he looked up from the body, there was shock touched with fear in his eyes. “What the hell? . . .”
    â€œI don’t know,” Jerry stated. “But her rib cage is crushed. Whoever, or whatever did that to Lisa, was very strong.”
    The other coroner checked that. He nodded his head in agreement, his hands busy. “There should have been massive internal bleeding. This beats all I’ve ever seen.”
    â€œWhen do you fix time of death, Doctor?” the lieutenant asked.
    The Mississippi County man was thoughtful for a moment. “Just off the top of my head, I’d say between ten P.M. last evening and two A.M. this morning.” He looked at Jerry and Jerry nodded his head in agreement.
    â€œHow about the press?” the chief deputy asked.
    â€œSit on it,” Jerry quickly suggested.
    All heads turned to him, waiting for an explanation. Not that they really needed one, for in many cases the press is a cop’s worst enemy. The small-town press is, by and large, conservative in its reporting. Big city and national press people tend to be more liberal and oftentimes lean toward sensationalism. They sometimes paint the police with a dark brush.
    It was probably a cop, tongue in cheek, who coined the phrase: “The next time you’re in trouble, call a hippie.”
    â€œI think you would create total panic if the true facts about Lisa’s death were released,” Jerry said. The visiting coroner nodded his head in agreement. “Until we can get a qualified M.E. from the Cape to do a complete autopsy, we’re just two small-town doctors stumbling around in the dark; out of our field. We have two facts we are sure of. One: my wife is dead. Two: her death was not from natural causes. Now . . . I could go a lot further with this, but it would be pure speculation on my part.”
    â€œI’d like to hear it, Doc,” the MHP lieutenant said.
    Jerry met his level gaze. The trooper’s eyes were smoky, revealing nothing. “Do I get my rights read to me?”
    â€œNot at this time,” the trooper replied tersely. “If ever. At least as far as I’m concerned, that is. I’m thinking there may be some questions of jurisdiction in this matter.”
    â€œThe dig site lies in two counties,” a deputy from Mississippi County said. “New Madrid and Mississippi counties.”
    â€œThe archaeological team is being funded by some federal agency out of Washington, D.C.,” the chief deputy from New Madrid County said. “Does that bring the Feds into it?”
    â€œAnd the park is state property,” the young MHP officer stated. “Does that make it ours?”
    â€œWell . . . shit!” the MHP lieutenant said. “Let’s take first things first, people.” He looked at Jerry. “Give us your speculations, Doctor. Please,” he added.
    Jerry sighed, took a deep breath. “All right. One: her head was cooked. Baked at a very high temperature.”
    â€œI agree,” the Mississippi County coroner said. “How it was done is beyond me. And look at her eyes. They were burned white.”
    â€œJesus Christ!” a young deputy said.
    Jerry said, “Two: all the blood is gone from Lisa’s body, so far as I can tell. Drained or sucked out. I’ve never seen anything like this. I don’t know what caused it.”
    â€œI concur,” the other coroner said.
    The young cops paled just a bit at this news.
    â€œThree: Lisa is . . . was, not a small woman. Her frame was medium. It would take a person possessing enormous strength