Read Jill Jackson - 02 - Voodoo Doll for Free Online

again and scratched at an island of grey stubble on his face, as though surprised to find it there. Hasty shaving had clawed other patches of skin.
    'The pissing contest has begun,' he said. It was the first time Jill had heard him swear.
    'I don't know whether any of you have worked a headline case before,' he continued. 'I am sorry to tell you that you are caught up in one now.' He seemed genuinely apologetic. 'The pressure is horrendous. You will work ridiculous hours and be criticised constantly for doing nothing. You can expect no support from above me should things go wrong. Expect hysteria, propaganda and even lies in the media. I can't say it more clearly than this: do not speak to them . Come to me with everything. I will do my best to watch your backs.' He paused again. 'Please. Don't speak to the media. They will be everywhere.'
    The superintendent unfolded like a giant pair of compasses.
    'David, Derek. If you could ride with me please. Jill, would you come behind us with Gabriel? Please follow my vehicle. If we become separated, Capitol Hill is off Elizabeth Drive. You've a map in your folder there . . . ah, Appendix C.' He flicked through the folder to show them. 'We'll enter the house together. Expect crime scene, the coroner, and of course the media. Thank you for your attention this morning. I'll set new directives following our meeting in situ.'
    Back in a tick, he'd said.
    Jill sat in the Commodore out the front of the police station, motor idling. She stared at the backs of the four heads in the car in front of her, its engine also running. A uniformed officer was in the driver's seat, Last in front, Reid and Tran in the back.
    She thrummed her fingers against the wheel, felt like she was doing something wrong. Where the hell was Delahunt?
    At last he bounded through the front doors of the station, swung into the passenger seat.
    About bloody time, she thought, irritated. She ignored him completely and pulled out, indicating to enter the traffic. Delahunt sat silently, hands in his lap.
    She stayed with the car in front, watching for the street sign. Elizabeth Drive. There it was. Straight now to Capitol Hill. She relaxed a tiny bit, rubbed at her neck.
    She became more aware of her passenger. Was she supposed to say something? She widened her senses, listened to him moving, tried to learn more about her companion in the quiet car. Her perceptive skills had been sharpened through years of fight training blindfolded, and she could tell a lot from others' barely perceptible movements, the way they breathed. His breathing was even, composed. She felt no tension, but he was not especially still. His active attention was directed to the road, outside the car. There seemed to be no awkwardness or tightness in his silence. She chanced a glance sideways. He'd donned a trucker's cap, the brim pulled low. No sunnies. His eyelashes were ridiculously long. Mediterranean skin, strong nose, generous lips.
    'Best way to cook it is with lamb,' he said.
    Jill over-corrected the steering a little. 'Sorry?'
    'You gotta use heaps of garlic, like a whole thing. A big onion. Then brown the lamb with it. You can use lamb mince if you want, but it smells like shit. Better to use chops, or you could cut up a leg of lamb.'
    Was this guy for real? After what they'd just heard? What they were going to see? Regardless, he was on a roll. She sat back and listened, finally realising that he was explaining to her how to cook the okra.
    'You gotta have boiling water ready, or you can use stock if you want. Salt and pepper and plenty of tomato paste in with the meat. Add some sugar. A big spoonful. Then you throw the bumya in – you know, the okra – and cover it all with the water. And you have to cook it for an hour. You eat it with rice. But don't do that crappy boiled rice. You've gotta cook it absorption method. You can put lemon and chilli in at the end if you want.'
    Was he done? Jill waited.
    'Some people eat it with yoghurt,' he