Read The 9th Girl for Free Online Page A
Authors: Tami Hoag
pain and sadness and despair and disgust. He could still dread holidays and hate coming home to an empty house.
It was always times like this when the darker emotions washed over him. Thirty-three hours without sleep, a brutal homicide, the knowledge that he didn’t have enough manpower or resources to devote to solving the case quickly. Christ knew how long it would be before they could get a confirmed ID on their vic, let alone develop a suspect list. Who the hell wouldn’t be depressed over that? Who wouldn’t look at that poor dead girl and think, What if that was my kid?
He’d had too much cause to have thoughts like that in the last year.
When asked, Sam always said he had no children. He had raised no children. He got no cards on Father’s Day. He paid no child support. The truth was more complicated than that.
He had a daughter in Seattle—or so he’d been led to believe a couple of lifetimes ago. She had been born here in Minneapolis shortly before the divorce became final. His soon-to-be-ex had already moved on with her life plans. She was in love with someone else, wanted out, wanted to start over, wanted nothing more to do with him. He had signed away his rights and she had headed west.
He had never seen the girl since. He had no idea what she looked like, if she favored him—God help her. He had spent a lot of time telling himself the kid had probably not been his at all, that his ex had stuck it out with him for his insurance coverage. But he had never entirely convinced himself of that. And so, during cases like this one, the thoughts came back to him—that he had a daughter, that he had lost a daughter, that she could have been dead for all he knew and for all he would ever know.
What a fucking mess you are, Kojak.
Twice married, twice divorced, no prospects. Lying in bed alone on New Year’s Day, with a dead girl foremost in his thoughts.
The phone rang as if his loneliness had reached across the country and tapped his last near miss on the shoulder. Her name came up on the caller ID: Carey. He stared at it as the ringing of the phone raked over raw nerve endings. He let it go to voice mail. What would she have to say that she hadn’t said a hundred times already? That she missed him. That she had to take the job with the Department of Justice because . . . excuse, excuse, excuse.
He didn’t want to hear it. What good did it do to talk about it? She had made her choice for her own reasons, all of them more important than he was.
He shouldn’t have let it bother him as much as he did. She had been through a lot of rough shit. An attempt on her life over a ruling she had made as the judge on a high-profile murder case. Kidnapped by a homicidal lunatic. Kovac still believed her ex-husband had plotted to have her killed, though the attempt had never actually been made, and Kovac had never been able to make the case for conspiracy to commit. All of that, then her father had died, and suddenly there were just too many painful memories.
She had needed a change of scenery. She’d been offered the position with the DOJ. Why wouldn’t she take it? Why wouldn’t she take her young daughter and go? Start over, start fresh, no ties to the past.
They hadn’t been much more than friends, really . . .
She had been gone now nearly a year and a half. When she came back to visit, he wasn’t available. When she called, he didn’t answer.
When he fell asleep, he still saw her in his dreams.
6
Assistant Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Ulf Möller had volunteered himself for the New Year’s Day autopsy of Zombie Doe. He was standing outside the back entrance to the morgue, smoking a cigarette, when Kovac pulled up and parked in the chief’s spot.
The morgue was open for business, receiving bodies 24/7/365. An ambulance sat in the delivery bay now, having dropped off its unlucky cargo. There had been no autopsies planned for the day, however. Death never took a holiday, but MEs did. Anyone dead
It was always times like this when the darker emotions washed over him. Thirty-three hours without sleep, a brutal homicide, the knowledge that he didn’t have enough manpower or resources to devote to solving the case quickly. Christ knew how long it would be before they could get a confirmed ID on their vic, let alone develop a suspect list. Who the hell wouldn’t be depressed over that? Who wouldn’t look at that poor dead girl and think, What if that was my kid?
He’d had too much cause to have thoughts like that in the last year.
When asked, Sam always said he had no children. He had raised no children. He got no cards on Father’s Day. He paid no child support. The truth was more complicated than that.
He had a daughter in Seattle—or so he’d been led to believe a couple of lifetimes ago. She had been born here in Minneapolis shortly before the divorce became final. His soon-to-be-ex had already moved on with her life plans. She was in love with someone else, wanted out, wanted to start over, wanted nothing more to do with him. He had signed away his rights and she had headed west.
He had never seen the girl since. He had no idea what she looked like, if she favored him—God help her. He had spent a lot of time telling himself the kid had probably not been his at all, that his ex had stuck it out with him for his insurance coverage. But he had never entirely convinced himself of that. And so, during cases like this one, the thoughts came back to him—that he had a daughter, that he had lost a daughter, that she could have been dead for all he knew and for all he would ever know.
What a fucking mess you are, Kojak.
Twice married, twice divorced, no prospects. Lying in bed alone on New Year’s Day, with a dead girl foremost in his thoughts.
The phone rang as if his loneliness had reached across the country and tapped his last near miss on the shoulder. Her name came up on the caller ID: Carey. He stared at it as the ringing of the phone raked over raw nerve endings. He let it go to voice mail. What would she have to say that she hadn’t said a hundred times already? That she missed him. That she had to take the job with the Department of Justice because . . . excuse, excuse, excuse.
He didn’t want to hear it. What good did it do to talk about it? She had made her choice for her own reasons, all of them more important than he was.
He shouldn’t have let it bother him as much as he did. She had been through a lot of rough shit. An attempt on her life over a ruling she had made as the judge on a high-profile murder case. Kidnapped by a homicidal lunatic. Kovac still believed her ex-husband had plotted to have her killed, though the attempt had never actually been made, and Kovac had never been able to make the case for conspiracy to commit. All of that, then her father had died, and suddenly there were just too many painful memories.
She had needed a change of scenery. She’d been offered the position with the DOJ. Why wouldn’t she take it? Why wouldn’t she take her young daughter and go? Start over, start fresh, no ties to the past.
They hadn’t been much more than friends, really . . .
She had been gone now nearly a year and a half. When she came back to visit, he wasn’t available. When she called, he didn’t answer.
When he fell asleep, he still saw her in his dreams.
6
Assistant Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Ulf Möller had volunteered himself for the New Year’s Day autopsy of Zombie Doe. He was standing outside the back entrance to the morgue, smoking a cigarette, when Kovac pulled up and parked in the chief’s spot.
The morgue was open for business, receiving bodies 24/7/365. An ambulance sat in the delivery bay now, having dropped off its unlucky cargo. There had been no autopsies planned for the day, however. Death never took a holiday, but MEs did. Anyone dead
Similar Books
Tending to Virginia
Jill McCorkle
A Winter's Wedding
Sharon Owens
Paladin Prophecy 2: Alliance
Mark Frost
Bed of Lies
Paula Roe
State Violence
Raymond Murray
Dark Craving: A Watchers Novella
Veronica Wolff
Date for Murder
Louis Trimble
Reclaimed (The Phoenix Chronicles Book 1)
Erica Ortega