Ashes to Ashes Read Free

crowned with a thinning layer of hair cropped so short, it gave more the appearance of a rust stain than a haircut. His face was ruddy and ravaged by old acne scars, and his nose was too short.
    He’d been her boss for about eighteen months, having come to Minneapolis from a similar position in Madison, Wisconsin. During that time they had tried with limited success to find a balance between their personalities and working styles. Kate flat-out didn’t like him. Rob was a spineless suckup and he had a tendency to micromanage that rubbed hard against her sense of autonomy. He found her bossy, opinionated, and impertinent. She took it as a compliment. But she tried to let his concern for victims offset his faults. In addition to his administrative duties, he often sat in on conferences with victims, and put in time with a victim’s support group.
    He squinted at her now from behind a pair of rimless glasses, his mouth pursing as if he’d just bitten his tongue. “You could have been killed. Why didn’t you just call for security?”
    “There wasn’t time.”
    “Instinct, Rob!” Sabin said, flashing large white teeth. “I’m sure you and I could never hope to understand the kind of razor-sharp instincts someone with Kate’s background has honed.”
    Kate refrained from reminding him yet again that she had spent most of her years with the FBI at a desk in the Behavioral Sciences Unit at the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime. Her days in the field were longer ago than she cared to remember.
    “The mayor will want to give you an award,” Sabin said brightly, knowing he would get in on the photo op.
    Publicity was the last thing Kate wanted. As an advocate, it was her job to hold the hands of crime victims and witnesses, to shepherd them through the justice system, to reassure them. The idea of an advocate being chased down by media hounds was likely to spook some of her clients.
    “I’d rather she didn’t. I don’t think it’s the best idea for someone with my job. Right, Rob?”
    “Kate’s right, Mr. Sabin,” he said, flashing his obsequious smile—an expression that often overtook his face when he was nervous. Kate called it the bootlicker’s grin. It made his eyes nearly disappear. “We don’t want her picture in the paper … all things considered.”
    “I suppose not,” Sabin said, disappointed. “At any rate, what happened this morning isn’t why we’ve called you in, Kate. We’re assigning you a witness.”
    “Why all the fanfare?”
    Most of her client assignments were automatic. She worked with six prosecuting attorneys and caught everything they charged—the exception being homicides. Rob assigned all homicides, but an assignment never warranted anything more than a phone call or a visit to her office. Sabin certainly never involved himself with the process.
    “Are you familiar with the two prostitute murders we’ve had this fall?” Sabin asked. “The ones where the bodies were burned?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “There’s been another one. Last night.”
    Kate looked from one grim face to the other. Behind Sabin she had a panoramic view of downtown Minneapolis from twenty-two stories up.
    “This one wasn’t a prostitute,” she said.
    “How did you know that?”
    Because you’d never take time out of your day if it was.
    “Lucky guess.”
    “You didn’t hear it on the street?”
    “On the street?” Like he was in a gangster movie. “No. I wasn’t aware there’d been a murder.”
    Sabin walked around behind his desk, suddenly restless. “There’s a chance this victim was Jillian Bondurant. Her father is Peter Bondurant.”
    “Oh,” Kate said with significance. Oh, no, this wasn’t just another dead hooker. Never mind that the first two victims had fathers somewhere too. This one’s father was
important
.
    Rob shifted uncomfortably in his chair, though whether it was the case or the fact that he insisted on wearing his pants too small around the