Read Online Three Jack McClure Missions Box Set by Eric Van Lustbader - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eric Van Lustbader
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Cocaine.
7
Nina Miller lit a clove cigarette, stared at the burning tip for a moment, and gave a small laugh. “Reminds me of my college days. I never lost my taste.” She inhaled as slowly, as deeply as if she were drawing in weed, then let the smoke out of her lungs in a soft hiss. Behind her, the sun was going down over the low hills. A dog was barking, but the sound was high-pitched, from an adjoining property, not one of the K-9 sniffers.
She was standing outside of the west dorm, where Alli’s room was, leaning against the whitewashed brick, her slim left hip slightly canted. Her right elbow was perched on the top of her left wrist, the left arm hugging her waist. The slow light placed her in the elongated shadow of the roofline.
“Find anything of interest?” she inquired.
“Possibly,” Jack said.
“I saw Garner storming out. You got to him, didn’t you?” Jack told her about his single-perp theory.
She frowned. “It does sound hard to believe.”
“Thanks so very much.”
Her eyes slid toward his face. “Like Garner, I was trained to follow the forensic evidence. The difference between us, however, is that I won’t simply dismiss your theory. It’s just that I never had an intuition of how to unravel a case. I don’t think real life works like that.”
Jack felt sorry for her. It was a peculiarly familiar feeling, and then, with a start, he realized it was how he had felt toward Sharon most of the time they were married.
“One thing I will guarantee you,” Nina said, breaking in on his thoughts, “that kind of argument won’t fly with Garner.”
That was when Jack handed her the metal vial. “I found it hidden in the bottom of Alli’s box spring. There’s cocaine inside.”
Nina laughed. “So you found it.”
“What?”
“Hugh owes me twenty bucks.” She pocketed the vial. “He said you wouldn’t find it.”
Jack felt like an idiot. “It was a test.”
Nina nodded. “He’s got it in for you.” Abruptly detaching herself from the wall, she threw down her cigarette butt. “Forget that sonovabitch.” She moved off to the west, Jack keeping pace beside her.
“Back there,” he said slowly, “when you read sections of that report …”
“I knew you were having trouble.”
“But how?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
They went along, paralleling the dorm. Just beyond it was a utility shed. At first it appeared that they were going to skirt the shed. Then, with a look over her shoulder, Nina opened the door.
“Inside,” she said. “Quickly.”
The moment Jack stepped through the narrow doorway, Nina closed the door behind them. The interior contained a plain wood table, several utilitarian chairs, a brass floor lamp. It was as sparsely furnished as a police interrogation cubicle. The small square window afforded aview down over the end of the rolling lawn to a tree-line beyond which was the wall that bordered the property.
Two people occupied the room. A cone of light from the floorlamp illuminated the sides of their faces. Jack recognized them: Edward Carson and his wife, Lyn. The soon-to-be First Lady, dressed in a dark, rather severely cut tweed suit, a ruffled white silk blouse held closed at the neck with a cameo the color of ripe apricots, stood at the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring blindly at clouds shredded by the wind. Fear and anxiety drew her features inward as if every atom of her being were psychically engaged in protecting her missing daughter.
Jack glanced at Nina. She had learned about his secret from Edward Carson.
Though the president-elect looked similarly haggard, the moment Jack and Nina entered, his sense of moment forced his political facade back on. Back straight, shoulders squared, he smiled his professional smile, the sides of his mouth crinkling along with the corners of his eyes. Those eyes, so much a part of his extraordinary telegenic image, possessed, in person, a glint of steel that did not come through
7
Nina Miller lit a clove cigarette, stared at the burning tip for a moment, and gave a small laugh. “Reminds me of my college days. I never lost my taste.” She inhaled as slowly, as deeply as if she were drawing in weed, then let the smoke out of her lungs in a soft hiss. Behind her, the sun was going down over the low hills. A dog was barking, but the sound was high-pitched, from an adjoining property, not one of the K-9 sniffers.
She was standing outside of the west dorm, where Alli’s room was, leaning against the whitewashed brick, her slim left hip slightly canted. Her right elbow was perched on the top of her left wrist, the left arm hugging her waist. The slow light placed her in the elongated shadow of the roofline.
“Find anything of interest?” she inquired.
“Possibly,” Jack said.
“I saw Garner storming out. You got to him, didn’t you?” Jack told her about his single-perp theory.
She frowned. “It does sound hard to believe.”
“Thanks so very much.”
Her eyes slid toward his face. “Like Garner, I was trained to follow the forensic evidence. The difference between us, however, is that I won’t simply dismiss your theory. It’s just that I never had an intuition of how to unravel a case. I don’t think real life works like that.”
Jack felt sorry for her. It was a peculiarly familiar feeling, and then, with a start, he realized it was how he had felt toward Sharon most of the time they were married.
“One thing I will guarantee you,” Nina said, breaking in on his thoughts, “that kind of argument won’t fly with Garner.”
That was when Jack handed her the metal vial. “I found it hidden in the bottom of Alli’s box spring. There’s cocaine inside.”
Nina laughed. “So you found it.”
“What?”
“Hugh owes me twenty bucks.” She pocketed the vial. “He said you wouldn’t find it.”
Jack felt like an idiot. “It was a test.”
Nina nodded. “He’s got it in for you.” Abruptly detaching herself from the wall, she threw down her cigarette butt. “Forget that sonovabitch.” She moved off to the west, Jack keeping pace beside her.
“Back there,” he said slowly, “when you read sections of that report …”
“I knew you were having trouble.”
“But how?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
They went along, paralleling the dorm. Just beyond it was a utility shed. At first it appeared that they were going to skirt the shed. Then, with a look over her shoulder, Nina opened the door.
“Inside,” she said. “Quickly.”
The moment Jack stepped through the narrow doorway, Nina closed the door behind them. The interior contained a plain wood table, several utilitarian chairs, a brass floor lamp. It was as sparsely furnished as a police interrogation cubicle. The small square window afforded aview down over the end of the rolling lawn to a tree-line beyond which was the wall that bordered the property.
Two people occupied the room. A cone of light from the floorlamp illuminated the sides of their faces. Jack recognized them: Edward Carson and his wife, Lyn. The soon-to-be First Lady, dressed in a dark, rather severely cut tweed suit, a ruffled white silk blouse held closed at the neck with a cameo the color of ripe apricots, stood at the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring blindly at clouds shredded by the wind. Fear and anxiety drew her features inward as if every atom of her being were psychically engaged in protecting her missing daughter.
Jack glanced at Nina. She had learned about his secret from Edward Carson.
Though the president-elect looked similarly haggard, the moment Jack and Nina entered, his sense of moment forced his political facade back on. Back straight, shoulders squared, he smiled his professional smile, the sides of his mouth crinkling along with the corners of his eyes. Those eyes, so much a part of his extraordinary telegenic image, possessed, in person, a glint of steel that did not come through
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