Read Jackson 07 - Where All the Dead Lie for Free Online Page B

She swiped it and almost got teary at the noise of the door unlocking.
    The hall smelled like Clorox. The floors had just been scrubbed, almost as if they’d been sanitized for her return.
    The Homicide offices were full, her elite team—the murder squad—all in attendance. A full house meant no active calls, and a chance for everyone to catch up on their paperwork. They weren’t here for her. No one knew she was coming in today.
    She hesitated for a moment in the doorway, but the room was so small that Renn McKenzie, the newest team member, and thus the one stuck sitting by the door, caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned toward her.
    “LT!” he said, standing so quickly that his papers spilled to the floor. He was joyous, a huge smile on his face, and the general cry went up immediately. Before she could take a breath, she was being hugged and patted, passed around from person to person like a beach ball at a stadium. Marcus Wade was the first to grab her, then Lincoln Ross, then Renn. She was breathless and giddy; damn, it was good to see them all.
    To be honest, she’d been avoiding everyone. She was their leader, and she wanted them to see the strong, confident Taylor they were used to. Taylor weak and mewling wasn’t helpful.
    Despite her lack of voice, she was feeling better, could hide the headache behind the fog of Percocet, could smile without wincing. Her balance had improved to the point where the stupid cane wasn’t necessary anymore. Every day she could see the path back becoming shorter. She just wished it would hurry up and end already. Something in her knew that the sooner she got back amongst her people, the sooner she’d heal.
    They were all talking at once at her, each finishing the other’s sentences, and she felt the most at ease she had in weeks. She made a mental note to send Dr. Benedict a bottle of eighteen-year-old single malt Scotch. He must have known this would be part of the deal, and what she needed as well.
    “Heya, Lucky. We didn’t know you were coming in today,” Lincoln scolded. “You should have told us.”
    Marcus set his fists on his hips, the left brushing against his Glock. “Yeah, we’d have prepared a little better. Have junior over there make a cake or something.”
    Renn shot him a bird. “Hugh does all the baking in our house, and you know it.”
    “Bake this,” Marcus said, making a completely obscene gesture with his tongue and cheek. They busted up laughing, and Lincoln hushed them.
    “Good grief, y’all need to give it a rest.” He turned to Taylor, put his arm around her shoulder, guided her past the guffawing detectives. “They go at it like this all day. It’s exhausting.” But Lincoln had a wide smile on his face, the gap between his front teeth adding to the merriment. He’d cropped his hair again, the dreadlocks gone. He looked like a very serious Lenny Kravitz, his impeccable Armani dove-gray suit unwrinkled, his tie done in a perfect Windsor knot.
    Taylor pointed at the suit; Lincoln was a clotheshorse in the worst way, spent all his spare change and most of his paychecks on the finest materials and cuts available. But the tie was an added touch that he didn’t usually worry about unless he had a date he was trying to impress. She had to admit, Lincoln done up in full kit, with his smooth café-au-lait skin and perfect profile, was a sight to behold. She’d always wanted to get him in a tux—she imagined that would be breathtaking.
    “Court in an hour,” he said.
    Ah. That explained it. Marcus and Renn, by contrast, were in jeans and sweaters, comfortable, prepared for the weather. Prepared for anything that might come their way. Her team was unflappable. She’d done everything in her power to make them that way.
    She looked into her office, at the empty desk, just waiting for her to return, and decided to stay out in the bullpen. Not enough room in there anyway.
    She sat on the edge of McKenzie’s desk and smiled at