Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) by L.J. Sellers Page A

open like a fish and his plumbing rerouted. He swallowed the tablet with a mouthful of water from the sink and headed back to the conference room. Before his diagnosis, he might have taken aspirin in front of his co-workers, but now that he had this RF thing he couldn’t let anyone see him take any medication. It would just remind them he was less than vigorously healthy. In the world of law enforcement, a perception of vulnerability could derail your career. Jackson worried about the prednisone. One of the side effects was mood swings and/or depression, but he hadn’t experienced either yet.
    Quince and Schak had come in and were still standing, sipping tall coffees and talking about a TV show they’d both missed the night before. When McCray showed up a few minutes later, they all sat and pulled out notepads.
    “What’s that smell?” Schak said. “It’s fruity or something.” He turned to McCray, whose under-eye bags were especially puffy this morning.
    “It’s herbal tea.” McCray’s voice projected false confidence.
    “Tea? Since when?” Schak asked.
    “I quit coffee about a week ago. It was ruining my sleep. My tossing and turning was keeping the wife awake too. I miss it but I feel a hell of a lot better.”
    “You look like shit.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Let’s get started,” Jackson said. “Schak, your turn to take the board. You might as well go first and tell us what you learned.”
    “Not a damned thing.” Under Carla’s name, Schak wrote well liked . “Carla Walker was respected by everyone at Silver Moon Jewelry where she worked. She has no enemies and no secrets I can find.”
    “She was pregnant,” Jackson announced.
    “No shit?” Schak turned and stared. “The autopsy?”
    “The pathologist says six to eight weeks.”
    Victor Slonecker rushed into the room. “Who’s pregnant?” The district attorney put his briefcase on the floor and tugged up the pant legs of his pinstriped suit before sitting down. His dark hair was perfectly groomed and his sharp features made him look intelligent and intimidating. He delivered on the promise.
    “Carla Walker, one of the murder victims,” Jackson answered. “Thanks for coming.” The DA, or sometimes an assistant DA, sat in on at least one taskforce meeting at the beginning of each case.
    Schak wrote pregnant , then said, “I wonder if Carla knew.”
    “Could the baby have any bearing on the case?” Evans interjected. “A secret lover who killed Carla when he found out she was pregnant?”
    Schak shook his head. “It seems unlikely. Everyone says Carla and Jared were very happy together, still in love after eighteen years of marriage.”
    The room was quiet for moment.
    “How sad,” Evans said, voicing what they were all thinking. “I found out a few things about Lori, but none of them seem critical.”
    “Let’s put it all on the board anyway.”
    “Her friend Jenna Larson says Lori’s been stressed lately because her parents lost their jobs, and she’s been giving them her tip money. More important, the manager at the restaurant where Lori works has been sexually harassing her. I’m going over there to see him right after this meeting.”
    “What’s his name?” Slonecker asked, pulling out a notepad.
    “Greg Blackwell.”
    Jackson hoped the DA would follow through. Assholes like Blackwell who harassed teenage girls in the workplace pissed him off. His daughter Katie might soon be one of those employees. Jackson handed over Lori’s cell phone, still in its plastic bag. “I picked this up from the hospital last night but I haven’t had a chance to look at it. It’ll be interesting to see if her boss was calling Lori or leaving messages.”
    “Was she conscious? Did you get anything from her?” Evans sounded as fresh and eager as she looked.
    “Lori was partially awake, and I asked her who had done this to her. She clearly said ‘Shane.’”
    Slonecker’s eyes lit up. “Who is Shane?”
    “A cousin with a drug