Read Jill Jackson - 02 - Voodoo Doll for Free Online Page B

She followed the others into a marble foyer two levels high.
    The cacophony from outside was instantly muted. Jill felt her edginess dissipate slightly. What would it be like to actually live here, she wondered idly, looking around at the opulent furnishings. Given the horror that had unfolded here, she wondered how it could feel so serene.
    The superintendent herded them into a room off the foyer, a library. They gathered around him, waiting. David Tran leaned on his walking stick, his face pale. He seemed to be in some pain. Derek Reid, in contrast, almost vibrated with fitness. He brushed unnecessarily close to Jill and she thought she caught the sweet steroid smell body builders often emitted. He gave her a smug smile when he caught her looking.
    'The murder took place in the media room.' Last spoke in his usual hushed tone. 'Of course, the body is no longer here. Video footage and photos will be available by the time we get back to the House,' he said, referring to the police station back in Liverpool. He glanced at his watch. 'The autopsy is in progress right now. I wanted you to be here, rather than there.'
    Last looked around the group, and finally seemed to notice Gabriel's absence. He did not comment.
    'I have no set objective for any of you this morning. Forensics are still collecting prints and trace. Just do what you do. Get a feel for what happened. Take notes.'
    From a manila folder, the superintendent handed each of them a three-page photocopied floor plan of the home. He pointed out the murder room.
    'We'll meet back here at 1200 hours. If anyone questions your presence, please refer them to me. Good luck.'
    Last moved away from their group and Jill was left staring at Reid and Tran. David Tran seemed about to say something. Reid grinned at them and left the library before he could speak.
    'Jill,' said Tran, 'you may be best off without me this morning.' He seemed to be still out of breath. 'I'm afraid that walk has already taken a lot out of me. I'll be moving at a slower pace.'
    'Sure,' said Jill. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but wasn't sure of the words to use, didn't want to offend.
    He seemed to sense her unease. 'I'm supposed to still be at home,' he said. 'Sick report. HOD.'
    Hmm. Hurt on duty. She wondered what had happened. Well, this would be the time to ask, Jill, she told herself. But the moment passed while she was thinking of something to say. She nodded at Tran and left the room.
    Jill figured Reid would go straight to the crime scene, so she made her way to the garage. She didn't want to see the murder room with Derek Reid.
    The MO in three of the home invasions had been access through the garage. Donna Moser, the victim's daughter, had been asleep when her father arrived home. She'd awoken to a black balaclava. So far, she hadn't been able to give the police anything about how the offenders had gained entry. Jill figured if the offenders were onto a good thing, they'd probably stick to it.
    Orienting herself using the map in her hand, she walked across marble, granite and thick carpet until she reached the internal entry to the garage, in a room next to the kitchen. The room held a plush couch and large television, and Jill glimpsed a bright, gleaming expanse where a door opened out to a backyard entertainment area and pool.
    The door ahead of her stood open; beyond was the darkness of the garage. Jill realised that her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Maybe she should get some water before going in there.
    She was halfway back to the brightness of the kitchen when she forced herself to turn around. It's not the basement, stupid, she told herself. This place is crawling with cops. You're okay. Dark rooms always reminded her of the place she'd been held captive as a twelve-year-old, and it was only six months or so ago that she'd been locked in the same basement, this time fighting for her life.
    She stepped down from the living area into a black, cavernous room. Despite its