Page 8 of I'm Watching You

Zack studied the corpse’s bloated features. He didn’t needIDto know who he was: Harold Turner.

Turner was well known at headquarters, because he wasn’t particular about whom he defended as long as the case translated into cash or media attention. Turner had been in the news this past week for his defense of drug dealer Ronnie T., who, after numerous delays, was on trialfor tax evasion. Now that Turner was dead, Ronnie T.’s trial could be compromised. That worried Zack. Eighteen months ago, he had been one of the undercover cops who’d gathered evidence against the affable Ronnie T.

Zack rose and removed a notebook from his breast pocket. He jotted notes: interview Quinton Barlow, Harold’s law partner. Examine Turner’s client list. Talk to Mrs Turner.

He glanced left and right at the surrounding houses. With his partner on vacation, he would also be knocking on a lot of doors today. ‘Any other witnesses?’

Officer Watt shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

Zack was careful to stay clear of the blood-caked grass and dirt around the body’s mutilated arm. The scent of decaying flesh made his stomach clench. He’d been a cop for thirteen years, could look at any grisly sight without flinching, but the smells always got to him.

‘Do you have anETAfor forensics?’ Zack asked Watt.

‘They’ve been called twice and should be arriving any minute.’

‘The sooner the better. We’re not going to have much time with this one and I don’t want any evidence compromised by the weather, curious cops, or reporters.’

‘Understood.’

Zack glanced at the shelter. ‘Also, make sure Ms Dillon and Ms O’Neil don’t leave the shelter unless I know about it. I want to talk to them both.’

‘Sure.’

Ms O’Neil. Lindsay.

Zack had not seen his wife since the meeting at the lawyer’s office almost a year ago when she’d served him with divorce papers. She had let the attorney do her talking and had refused to acknowledge him, because he had been drinking.

Hell, who was he kidding? He’d been drunk.Shit.

Zack had worked undercover narcotics for three years before he met Lindsay. Drugs had been a part of that world. He’d been careful to stay clear of the drugs, knowing he got tested by the department regularly. But he had started drinking more heavily during that time. Ego had had him believing he could handle the booze. He’d been wrong.

When he’d met Lindsay, he’d cut way back on his drinking. But then he’d started working more undercover assignments. The stress of hiding his private life from the drug world grew along with the cravings for booze. Soon he was chasing beers with shots of bourbon.

Lindsay had figured out what was happening very quickly. She had begged him to stop drinking and to considerAAmeetings. He’d assured her he didn’t have a problem. He’d seen the hope in her eyes. She’d wanted to believe him but when he hadn’t quit, she’d tossed him out. He’d felt betrayed, furious, and he’d done the dumbest thing he could have. He’d slept with another woman. Lindsay had found out and there’d been no going back after that.

That day in the lawyer’s office, he’d been royally pissed because she’d not returned any of his phone calls. He’d said terrible things to Lindsay, hoping to wound her the way her throwing him out had hurt him. His words hadfound their mark. Unshed tears had glistened in her eyes when she’d fled the attorney’s office.

Zack would like to have said he’d joinedAAright after that meeting. But he hadn’t. He’d stayed drunk another month before his brother, Malcolm, had threatened to expose his drinking to the department if he didn’t get sober. Zack had agreed. With the help of his family, he had sobered up.

After he’d been sober sixty days, he’d known he’d have to leave narcotics. So he’d parlayed his arrest record and gotten a transfer out of narcotics to homicide. He’d been in the new job eight months.

Zack had wanted to call Lindsay after he’d gotten sober and apologize for all the crap he’d put her through. But he’d been afraid she’d reject him and he didn’t fully trust his sobriety those first few weeks. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. He got stronger, more in control of the cravings that would never really leave him. But now, nearly a year had passed since that day in the lawyer’s office, and here they were: married strangers.

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he saw Lindsay, but he did know that their first meeting wouldn’t be easy under the best of circumstances – nothing with his wife had ever been uncomplicated. Intruding into his crime scene was classic Lindsay.

What he hadn’t anticipated was her pale skin and the veil of bravado that was as thin as her frame.

This past year had been hard on her too.

Zack’s head throbbed. He shoved out a breath and buried the remorse. He had a job to do.

The snap of rubber gloves had Zack turning toward the forensics tech, Sara Martin. Tall, slim, and in her early thirties, she wore her long auburn hair in a tight ponytail at the base of her neck. She’d slid crisp blue coveralls over her clothes and booties over her shoes. In the three years he’d known her she was always immaculate, always contained no matter what the situation.

‘Sorry it took me so long.’ Sara’s sweet perfume drifted above the blood’s pungent rusty smell. ‘When my beeper went off I was still in the shower. So what do we have?’

‘Harold Turner.’

She didn’t look surprised. ‘It’s a wonder he lived this long. Guy had a ton of enemies.’ A digital camera dangled from her neck and she switched it on, then started to snap pictures. ‘Jesus, his left hand is gone.’

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