Jeffery Deaver - The Lesson Of Her Death by Jeffery Deaver

Author:Jeffery Deaver [Deaver, Jeffery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-10-20T19:01:53+00:00

‘I hear what you’re saying. But I just want to get that guy, whoever he is. That’s all I care about. I’m no good at this politics stuff. It’s like people’re using those girls’ deaths for themselves. They’re twisting things around. Makes me sick.’

Ebbans finished his candy and rolled the wrapper into a tiny wad, pitched it out. He looked around and said in a low voice, ‘I know you’re off the case and everything and you’ll be doing a bang-up job keeping the roads free of gin-drunk felons but since you’re giving me all your notes and leads it’s only fair I give you something in return.’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘I told you somebody put the kibosh on the school side of the case? The order came

from Ribbon and Hammerback. But you know where they got the word?’ ‘Sure, yeah, I know.’ Corde grimaced. ‘Dean Larraby.’ ‘Nope,’ Ebbans said. ‘It was a friend of yours. Randy Sayles.’ Corde considered this. ‘Well, well, well. That’s nice to know . . . But you didn’t hear

me say that.’ Ebbans touched his ear. ‘Deaf as a mounted trout.’

As he walked out of the vending room Bill Corde stepped right into the broad form of Wynton Kresge. ‘Oh, sorry,’ Corde said pleasantly, and smiled before he remembered he was mad at the security chief.

Kresge blinked and started to smile back before he recalled he too was mad. He ignored Corde and turned back to where he’d been, standing in Jim Slocum’s doorway, holding a book open and pointing to a passage.

‘Yessir, Chief,’ Slocum was saying to Kresge. We’ve pretty much got it under control. But I appreciate your concern.’

What I’m saying is, you ought to read this...’ Kresge sounded like he was arguing with a belligerent waitress.

Slocum said formally, “We’ve got ourselves a pretty demanding situation, Chief, as you can well imagine...’

Corde left the office. He got into his squad car and started the engine. Wynton Kresge came out and walked towards his Olds, which was parked two empty spaces from Corde’s cruiser. Kresge’s was nice-looking, new. Everybody seemed to have a new car but Corde. Kresge flung the book into the front seat then opened the door. He got in and started the engine. The two men sat twenty feet apart in their cars, staring straight ahead as their engines idled.

A very strained Bill Corde shut off the engine, paused a moment then walked over to Kresge. Talk to you?’

Kresge shut off his engine and got out. He stood up, taller than Corde, many pounds heavier. Corde said, ‘About last week... What I want to say is I’m sorry. At first I didn’t think you were right and I’ll tell you it didn’t have anything to do with you being who you are or anything like that but maybe I was the way you said and if I was I apologize.’

There was a moment of fierce silence and Corde couldn’t think of anything to do but stick out his hand. Kresge looked down and seemed boxed into a corner.

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