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Authors: Anne Frasier
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tried to talk Chief Ortega into pairing us up,” he said. “Figured since we were partners before, but she wouldn’t budge.”
That had been Jude’s doing. She’d asked to work with someone who didn’t know her, someone who wouldn’t compare her to the Jude Fontaine she used to be. She just hadn’t expected that person to be Uriah Ashby.
The elevator dinged and the doors separated. Jude recalled past social skills and managed to tell Grant good-bye as she and her new partner stepped inside the elevator to take it to the parking garage.
CHAPTER 10
T hey exited the parking ramp in an unmarked vehicle. It was nice to see residents walking and riding bikes, and yet the city felt darker and sadder than Jude remembered. It was hard to believe that a series of blackouts had brought about such change. And yet she shouldn’t have been surprised. Not after what she’d been through. People do awful things to one another. The question was, had she lost faith in humanity?
It didn’t take long to arrive at their destination.
Lake of the Isles was located in Minneapolis, northwest of Uptown. Once an area of wealth, it now ranked up there with neighborhoods hit hardest by fires and vandalism, with blocks of mansions reduced to crumbling, burnt-out shells. Before the blackouts, people strolled around the oddly shaped lake in envy of the mansions that overlooked the water. There was no envy now.
“I used to walk around this lake,” Jude said. In that other life. With Eric. Like a couple in a magazine. Like a dream she could only half recall.
Uriah pulled to a stop behind the coroner’s van, cutting the engine. Yellow crime-scene tape had been strung, and a crowd of observers had gathered.
Seat belts unlatched. Doors slammed.
One of the first things Jude noticed was a difference in tone from crime scenes of the past. Where was the hushed reverence? The respect and sorrow? This felt . . . salacious, with people shoving one another, jockeying for a good viewing position while a few cops stood nervously at the perimeter, trying to contain the crowd.
She recognized the coroner—a young woman with black hair that stopped at her chin. Seeing another familiar face gave Jude a jolt. She didn’t like the reminders of her old life.
One of the first officers on the scene—male, about forty—met them. “Kids were walking around the lake and spotted the body. Female, young, probably happened last night. Bystanders fished her out before we could get her in a bag, so the body has been compromised. Crime-scene team is gathering evidence on the shore.”
“Likely cause of death?” Uriah asked.
“Suicide is my uneducated guess.”
Uriah made a faint sound of distress that Jude failed to understand.
The officer pointed with his thumb. “Take a gander.”
The deceased was young, probably not over seventeen. Dressed in a white nightgown, wet and clinging to the nude body beneath. Blue lips, long hair the color of dandelions.
Upon seeing the detectives, the two crime-scene officers backed off to give them full access to the body, one of the team passing out black latex gloves.
Jude tugged on the gloves and crouched next to the dead girl, the world fading as she focused on the body. The officer was right. She hadn’t been in the water long, and she hadn’t been dead long. Except for the blue lips and a hint of creamy eye, she could be sleeping.
Around the girl’s neck was a cheap necklace. Jude turned the pendant over. A heart, engraved with the name Delilah.
“Is that the kind you can get from a machine at a carnival?” Uriah asked.
“I think so.” She remembered using the very type of machine at a tourist stop in northern Minnesota. You put money in the slot and spelled out your name on a keypad. Then, through a glass window, you could watch the engraving. Once done, the necklace dropped into a receptacle to be scooped up.
Jude did a quick visual exam, her gaze moving from the top of the girl’s head to her
That had been Jude’s doing. She’d asked to work with someone who didn’t know her, someone who wouldn’t compare her to the Jude Fontaine she used to be. She just hadn’t expected that person to be Uriah Ashby.
The elevator dinged and the doors separated. Jude recalled past social skills and managed to tell Grant good-bye as she and her new partner stepped inside the elevator to take it to the parking garage.
CHAPTER 10
T hey exited the parking ramp in an unmarked vehicle. It was nice to see residents walking and riding bikes, and yet the city felt darker and sadder than Jude remembered. It was hard to believe that a series of blackouts had brought about such change. And yet she shouldn’t have been surprised. Not after what she’d been through. People do awful things to one another. The question was, had she lost faith in humanity?
It didn’t take long to arrive at their destination.
Lake of the Isles was located in Minneapolis, northwest of Uptown. Once an area of wealth, it now ranked up there with neighborhoods hit hardest by fires and vandalism, with blocks of mansions reduced to crumbling, burnt-out shells. Before the blackouts, people strolled around the oddly shaped lake in envy of the mansions that overlooked the water. There was no envy now.
“I used to walk around this lake,” Jude said. In that other life. With Eric. Like a couple in a magazine. Like a dream she could only half recall.
Uriah pulled to a stop behind the coroner’s van, cutting the engine. Yellow crime-scene tape had been strung, and a crowd of observers had gathered.
Seat belts unlatched. Doors slammed.
One of the first things Jude noticed was a difference in tone from crime scenes of the past. Where was the hushed reverence? The respect and sorrow? This felt . . . salacious, with people shoving one another, jockeying for a good viewing position while a few cops stood nervously at the perimeter, trying to contain the crowd.
She recognized the coroner—a young woman with black hair that stopped at her chin. Seeing another familiar face gave Jude a jolt. She didn’t like the reminders of her old life.
One of the first officers on the scene—male, about forty—met them. “Kids were walking around the lake and spotted the body. Female, young, probably happened last night. Bystanders fished her out before we could get her in a bag, so the body has been compromised. Crime-scene team is gathering evidence on the shore.”
“Likely cause of death?” Uriah asked.
“Suicide is my uneducated guess.”
Uriah made a faint sound of distress that Jude failed to understand.
The officer pointed with his thumb. “Take a gander.”
The deceased was young, probably not over seventeen. Dressed in a white nightgown, wet and clinging to the nude body beneath. Blue lips, long hair the color of dandelions.
Upon seeing the detectives, the two crime-scene officers backed off to give them full access to the body, one of the team passing out black latex gloves.
Jude tugged on the gloves and crouched next to the dead girl, the world fading as she focused on the body. The officer was right. She hadn’t been in the water long, and she hadn’t been dead long. Except for the blue lips and a hint of creamy eye, she could be sleeping.
Around the girl’s neck was a cheap necklace. Jude turned the pendant over. A heart, engraved with the name Delilah.
“Is that the kind you can get from a machine at a carnival?” Uriah asked.
“I think so.” She remembered using the very type of machine at a tourist stop in northern Minnesota. You put money in the slot and spelled out your name on a keypad. Then, through a glass window, you could watch the engraving. Once done, the necklace dropped into a receptacle to be scooped up.
Jude did a quick visual exam, her gaze moving from the top of the girl’s head to her
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