Read Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) for Free Online

university roommate.
    “Does Gena know you’re back in town?” he asked cautiously.
    Stephanie shrugged carelessly. “Not unless you’ve told her. No, probably not. We’re not exactly on speaking terms. She’s never quite forgiven me for leaving without a goodbye.”
    “Imagine that,” he said dryly.
    “I hate goodbyes,” she said shortly.
    Jesse grinned at her. “I know this better than anyone. I didn’t even get a Dear Jess letter.” His grin faded. “She might not be quite as understanding as I am.”
    “Well I’m not expecting the welcome mat,” Stephanie answered, shrugging again. “After all, the last time we actually saw each other we weren’t exactly the best of friends.”
    Jesse rolled his eyes at the simple understatement. “Why do I get the feeling she’s going to wish you stayed away?”
    Stephanie stared at him defiantly. “I’m not going to back down from this Jesse. No one can stop me. I plan on finding out who killed Angel, and why. Nothing and no one will get in my way.”
     

 
    Chapter Four
     
    Gena Evans strode through the crowd gathering around the crime scene, scowling in frustration. Why did all the freaks come out to play as soon as a body was discovered? Was it voyeurism or just a twisted fascination with the dead? Either way, the complete lack of respect for the victim infuriated her.
    “Jackson, get these God damn leeches away from my crime scene!” She yelled, ducking beneath the yellow police tape.
    Stalking over to where the Crime Scene Unit was working, she greeted them with a terse nod. “Tell me about our victim.” She ordered, dropping down to kneel down next to where her Chief Medical Examiner, Cynthia Mallory, was inspecting the body.
    “I can’t tell you much until I take her back to the morgue. We’ve got a Caucasian woman, who looks to be in her mid to late twenties. Her body temp suggests she’s been dead about 12 hours, but I’ll know more once I start the autopsy. And, before you ask, it’s possible she’s been sexually assaulted. I’ll know for certain once I check for abrasions and seminal fluid.”
    “Do we know how she died?” Gena asked abruptly, staring emotionlessly down at the corpse.
    Cynthia shook her head. “From the marks and the cuts on her body, the poor girl looks like she was tortured. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she went through. The deep laceration to her throat suggests it was slit, but whether this was the cause of death, I can’t tell you. I won’t know until...”
    “You get her back to the morgue,” Gena finished, with a wry smile. Her smile slowly turned into a frown and she looked sharply at Cynthia. “You said her throat was slit?”
    Cynthia vaguely nodded, staring down at the corpse. She lightly stroked the woman’s hair. “Who did this to you sweetheart?” She whispered softly.
    Tearing her eyes off the dead woman, she said quietly to Gena, “Every time I think I’m finally getting used to this town, something like this comes back to bite me in the ass.”
    Gena shrugged, not knowing how to comfort her co-worker and friend. She briefly wondered if she had ever felt the same way about L.A, but doubted it. Despite what she saw everyday in her profession there was still a Southern girlish naiveté about Cynthia – one Gena found charming. It was almost as if she still believed L.A was where dreams came true. Gena knew better.
    She smiled gently at Cynthia. “Alabama, you’ll get used to it,” she replied, using her pet nickname for Cynthia, who had transferred to L.A from Birmingham only a year earlier.
    Cynthia shook her head. “I don’t know if I will.”
    Gena patted her arm reassuringly. “Sure you will, trust me. When I first moved back here, after my stint in New York, I felt exactly the same way,” she said, the lie falling easily from her lips.
    Giving Cynthia another quick smile, she continued. “The one lesson I’ve learned in this job is that it will either make you or break