BLUE MERCY Read Free

cruisers outside as she stepped over the scattered debris. Still, there was no mistaking her. Or the tension that stiffened her stance when one of the uniforms pointed her toward him and Gunderson.

    Finn watched her pick her way around oily puddles toward the circle of lights. She’d cut her hair, and Finn realized then that he couldn’t remember when he’d seen her last. Weeks or months?

    The cut was short. The kind that gave an air of confidence that might turn most men off but looked damn sexy to Finn. The suit, however, bordered on masculine. He’d seen her wear it before, only now it looked different. The material drew tight at her shoulders, while the rest hung loose off her thin frame. And when she finally met Finn’s gaze, the year of wanting her hit him like a ton of bricks.

    “Sorry I dragged you out, Kay.” Gunderson offered her a hand as she straddled the blackened beam, then he gestured to Finn. “I asked Finn to tag along. With his Arson stint, I figured he could give us some insight.”

    Kay nodded. Her cool gray eyes caught his, and her fleeting smile seemed little more than professional courtesy. What had he expected?

    “So it’s Valley?” she asked.

    “We found her purse just through the door there. It fared better than she did. ID in the purse is all Regester’s. Thirty-two dollars and change still in the wallet. No car ownership or insurance cards. Not even a Maryland driver’s license.”

    “Any vehicle outside?”

    “Not in the immediate vicinity.”

    “So her killer drove her here.”

    “Unless she walked.” Gunderson nodded to where the halogens flooded Regester’s body behind him. “You ready to see her?”

    “Yeah.”

    Sarge stepped aside then, allowing Kay to take in Valerie Regester’s twisted remains.

    “Christ,” she whispered, her voice suddenly shaky. “Are you sure that’s her?”

 
    3
     

    THE SMELL ALMOST KNOCKED HER OVER. The stench of burned meat. Cooked organs and singed hair.

    Kay worked her fingers into a pair of gloves as she moved past Sarge. She brought her hand to her nose, welcoming the usually objectionable odor of latex.

    Water rippled in the wake of Kay’s duty shoes, washing against the soaked and blackened remnants of the victim’s clothing. Squatting, Kay swallowed hard, her breath clutching against the acrid stench. In her mind, Valley’s rare smile flashed.

    “She was half under this beam.” Gunderson gave the alligatored surface a tap with his shoe, letting loose a burst of charcoal shards. “Finn figures the killer counted on it helping with the burning. Old, dried wood fires up better than a fresh body.”

    Kay shifted, allowing full illumination from the crime-scene lamps. Along the victim’s throat she could just make out the braided pattern of a chain. She reached for it, plucking the necklace out of the blistered flesh and sliding her fingers along its length behind the neck. Searching. Then finding what she’d prayed she wouldn’t.

    From the heat-tarnished chain dangled a medallion. St. Michael. Patron saint of police officers. A medal of protection.

    Kay felt sick. She let the pendant drop. “Can we roll her?”

    When Gunderson’s cell went off, the sergeant retreated to take the call.

    “I’ll help,” Finn offered.

    The bitterness of beer and bile rose to the top of her throat. Through the thin latex gloves Kay felt the residual warmth of the remains. Warmth from the flames, not life.

    There was a low, sucking sound when they rolled her, as though an air pocket had been created between her back and the concrete. Black water swirled in to fill the place where Valley had lain. With his hand still on one charred shoulder, Finn propped her.

    “Amazing,” he said, “how resilient the human body is, huh?”

    In the glare of the lamps Valley’s hands were white, untouched by the flames that had consumed the exposed areas of her body. A yellow cord bound her wrists, and some of her clothing had also