Read Online Yellow Ribbons by Caitlyn Willows - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Caitlyn Willows
Ads: Link
her way. “There’s more. Deputies found blood-splattered clothes in the laundry room.”
Fuck . “Coincidence?”
“I doubt it.”
So did Lani.
Chapter Six
Pattison arrived before the coroner, looking as beat down as Greg felt. Weariness grayed his face and reddened his eyes. Greg guessed he’d barely left the other scene. He exchanged a few words with the deputy, then headed their way. Greg and Cornwall exited Greg’s truck at the same time and met Pattison at the rear.
“Twice in less than twenty-four hours,” Pattison said. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”
Sucks didn’t begin to describe how Greg felt. Kenyon was his boss, a man he’d known for many years, worked with side by side. His death hit damn hard, especially on the heels of hearing about everything else he’d been hiding. Drinking problem, yes. Failed marriage, yes. New girlfriend, yes. But murder? No. Greg refused to believe it.
“No way I can let you walk the scene on this one, Master Gunnery Sergeant.”
“That goes without saying.” Greg didn’t want to either, didn’t want to see Mick Kenyon lying in a pool of his own waste. The glimpse he’d caught when the deputy opened the door was hard enough.
“I was hoping this was a coincidence,” Cornwall told him.
“Highly unlikely. Two murder victims from PMO in the same night? One of them with bloodied clothes in his house?”
Cornwall’s eyes widened. “You think this was murder? The deputies said it looked like it was an overdose. Sleeping pills and alcohol. They found the pills dumped out on the table next to him.”
Pattison rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m dead tired and not thinking straight. It doesn’t help having an inept partner. Jordan’s on his way, though he’s as beat as I am.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, blinked, and looked up. “You’re quiet, Master Gunnery Sergeant. What’s your take on all this?”
Greg briefed him on the drinking, divorce, and possible affair. “But I refuse to believe this was suicide. Accidental, yes.”
“And the bloody clothes?” Pattison matched his stance, arms crossed, legs astride.
“I don’t have a clue, and I don’t want to speculate.” Couldn’t speculate, because “murderer” didn’t mesh with the man he knew.
“We’ll know soon enough.” Pattison looked around, squinting in the bright morning light. “I’ll have the deputies canvass the neighborhood. Once we were focused on homicide last night, we turned up a person of interest. One of the neighbors saw a strange car around the time of the murders and remembered a portion of the license plate.”
The coroner pulled to a stop in front of the house. Shilling again. Greg couldn’t stay here another second, couldn’t risk overhearing Shilling verbally dissect Kenyon’s body.
“We need to go,” Greg told him. “The deputies have our statements, and you know how to get hold of us.”
“Sure, sure.” Pattison stepped aside. “I’ll let you know what we turn up.”
“Good. The general’s…anxious.”
“I can imagine.” Pattison broke into an easy trot on his way over to brief Shilling.
He started for the driver’s side of his truck, Cornwall dogging his heels. Once they were inside, Greg didn’t waste any time before driving off. Elbow braced on the door, chin on the tips of his fingers, Cornwall stared out the passenger window. He’d been somewhat quiet since they’d discovered…
Greg swallowed the lump in his throat. It hurt to think of the major as remains . Hurt even more to think of how they’d failed him.
“I know there’s nothing more we can do for him, but it still feels like betrayal to leave him alone,” Cornwall said.
Greg flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. He could barely acknowledge Cornwall, and he sure as hell couldn’t look his way. Emotions teetered on a razor’s edge of grief. “I know.”
“It sounds selfish, but I’m glad I didn’t see him like that.”
Greg had—the barest glimpse
Fuck . “Coincidence?”
“I doubt it.”
So did Lani.
Chapter Six
Pattison arrived before the coroner, looking as beat down as Greg felt. Weariness grayed his face and reddened his eyes. Greg guessed he’d barely left the other scene. He exchanged a few words with the deputy, then headed their way. Greg and Cornwall exited Greg’s truck at the same time and met Pattison at the rear.
“Twice in less than twenty-four hours,” Pattison said. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”
Sucks didn’t begin to describe how Greg felt. Kenyon was his boss, a man he’d known for many years, worked with side by side. His death hit damn hard, especially on the heels of hearing about everything else he’d been hiding. Drinking problem, yes. Failed marriage, yes. New girlfriend, yes. But murder? No. Greg refused to believe it.
“No way I can let you walk the scene on this one, Master Gunnery Sergeant.”
“That goes without saying.” Greg didn’t want to either, didn’t want to see Mick Kenyon lying in a pool of his own waste. The glimpse he’d caught when the deputy opened the door was hard enough.
“I was hoping this was a coincidence,” Cornwall told him.
“Highly unlikely. Two murder victims from PMO in the same night? One of them with bloodied clothes in his house?”
Cornwall’s eyes widened. “You think this was murder? The deputies said it looked like it was an overdose. Sleeping pills and alcohol. They found the pills dumped out on the table next to him.”
Pattison rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m dead tired and not thinking straight. It doesn’t help having an inept partner. Jordan’s on his way, though he’s as beat as I am.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, blinked, and looked up. “You’re quiet, Master Gunnery Sergeant. What’s your take on all this?”
Greg briefed him on the drinking, divorce, and possible affair. “But I refuse to believe this was suicide. Accidental, yes.”
“And the bloody clothes?” Pattison matched his stance, arms crossed, legs astride.
“I don’t have a clue, and I don’t want to speculate.” Couldn’t speculate, because “murderer” didn’t mesh with the man he knew.
“We’ll know soon enough.” Pattison looked around, squinting in the bright morning light. “I’ll have the deputies canvass the neighborhood. Once we were focused on homicide last night, we turned up a person of interest. One of the neighbors saw a strange car around the time of the murders and remembered a portion of the license plate.”
The coroner pulled to a stop in front of the house. Shilling again. Greg couldn’t stay here another second, couldn’t risk overhearing Shilling verbally dissect Kenyon’s body.
“We need to go,” Greg told him. “The deputies have our statements, and you know how to get hold of us.”
“Sure, sure.” Pattison stepped aside. “I’ll let you know what we turn up.”
“Good. The general’s…anxious.”
“I can imagine.” Pattison broke into an easy trot on his way over to brief Shilling.
He started for the driver’s side of his truck, Cornwall dogging his heels. Once they were inside, Greg didn’t waste any time before driving off. Elbow braced on the door, chin on the tips of his fingers, Cornwall stared out the passenger window. He’d been somewhat quiet since they’d discovered…
Greg swallowed the lump in his throat. It hurt to think of the major as remains . Hurt even more to think of how they’d failed him.
“I know there’s nothing more we can do for him, but it still feels like betrayal to leave him alone,” Cornwall said.
Greg flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. He could barely acknowledge Cornwall, and he sure as hell couldn’t look his way. Emotions teetered on a razor’s edge of grief. “I know.”
“It sounds selfish, but I’m glad I didn’t see him like that.”
Greg had—the barest glimpse
Similar Books
