Shattered by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 2) by Catherine Finger

instrument to his cranium before he could complete the process—rendering him and his girlfriend extremely dead and leaving me extremely guilty-looking. Kind of a trifecta if you looked at it from the killer’s point of view.
    And once we caught said killer, I planned to ask him all about it. Images of the crime scene bubbled up inside me. Betrayal could get your blood boiling, I knew that. But had it spurred the man to a double homicide?
    “I’m sorry. Let’s regroup. How about you leave your phone out by accident and switch it to a video call for me as you stroll around the room? That can’t be against any rules. That way we don’t even have to talk about it. We’re not talking, and we’re not texting. No witnesses. Never happened.” I was pushing it. But screw it. I was playing centerfield in a murder investigation, and I didn’t like standing up alone in the heat.
    “Always wanted to be a member of AV club in high school and never quite made it.” Mitch resumed her even strides.
    “And why not? Your talent behind the camera is legend.” I wasn’t just buttering her up. She had the eye. Her YouTube videos had earned hundreds of thousands of views.
    “The cop wannabes were way hotter than the AV geeks in high school, so I went the cop route instead. No regrets.” She ended the call and, within seconds, had sent me a five second video starting and ending with artistic shots of the not-so-shiny black and white tiled floor leading to the evidence. She was just about in.
    It’s good to be queen. Usually. But today it was way better being Chief of Police.
     

 
     
     
    “We need to hire a better cleaning service. That floor should be black and white, not black and yellow.” I couldn’t help the color commentary.
    Mitch was talking me through her tour of terror in the bowels of the station via a video call. I was packing for a morning workout at the gym, followed by a quick visit to Samantha, as we talked. Might as well do something useful with my forced hiatus. I’d be able to keep Mitch on the phone more or less alone until the morning shift change began in a few minutes.
    The camera took in more yellowed tile as she walked down the hall and stood in front of the solid steel evidence room door. A round mirror was mounted above the door. Mitch’s slender figure reflected back at me as she held one hand up, pointing the phone into the mirror.
    “And you need to gain a few pounds so I can hate you just a little less. There some new ordinance against body fat you’ve neglected to mention, or did you win another month’s worth of low-carb diet bars? You got no hips, woman. It’s unnatural.” I doubled my resolve to take full advantage of my time off. On any given day, it was even odds whether or not I could snap my gun belt around my waist, let alone let it ride down cool and low on my hips, like Mitch’s.
    “You should get out more, Chief—lots of action on the other side of the desk. Great for fat burning. Not that you need it. But keep in mind, the camera adds ten pounds, so…” She was laughing now.
    I loved her laughter. Hearing it again in the midst of the long, dark night of the soul that my life had suddenly become was like listening to a special concerto of Liszt and Elton John featuring dueling pianos. Minus the Vegas fanfare.
    “Yeah, I get it. You’re even hotter in person. I know. I see you every day in polyester pants, remember?” I took in the familiar scene as she walked through the door. Her footsteps sounded gritty against the cement floor.
    “Well, watch me walk over to the third shelving unit.” She held her phone up and narrated as she walked.
    “We know the perp had at least two weapons—three if you count whatever drug they used.” Mitch’s steps slowed.
    “ What? ” The new information kept piling up.
    “Suspected use of some kind of drug. A definite needle mark was identified on both bodies a few hours ago by the M.E. The shoulder of one, and the palm of the