Free Cold Blooded by Lisa Jackson Page B

grandfather was killed in the war.
    My grandma never remarried. She spent most of her time taking care of everyone else."
    "Who's everyone else?"
    "Basically me. My mother when she was around. My sister, Chandra, until she died. She was only two. Wading pool accident," Olivia said, using the same phraseology she always did when anyone asked about her family.
    Accident.
    So simple. But it hadn't been. Maybe death never was.
    "Where's your mother now?"
    "Good question." She poured the coffee. "Actually, I think she's in Houston with her husband, Jeb Martin, who, for the record, is a real SOB."
    "You don't like him." Lifting a shoulder, she said, "He's as good as any of them, I suppose, but no, I don't like him, and I really don't see what all this has to do with what happened this morning."
    "Maybe nothing. But it's not every day someone charges into my office claiming to witness a murder the way you did."
    She didn't argue. At least he was listening. She handed him a cup. "I've got milk, no sugar."
    "Black's fine."
    ' ' inherited this house and haven't decided how long I'm staying."
    As the tape recorded, Bentz walked to the window and stared at the bayou, sunlight filtering through the trees, murky water stretching away from the cabin and small yard.
    "What about your father?"
    She closed her eyes. May as well get it over with. "I haven't heard from him in years. He ... he's in jail--prison in Mississippi, I think. The last time I saw him, I was in grade school." She expected more questions about her father, but thankfully he let the subject drop.
    "So what about Tucson?"
    "What about it?"
    "Why'd you leave?" "I thought I explained that. My grandmother was sick, and I'd already applied for grad school. I got accepted at Tulane, and I decided it was fate, or destiny, so I moved back. My partner bought out my interest in the shop."
    The dog whined at the door to the porch and Olivia cracked it open to let him in. hairy shot through, a streak of scraggly fur. "My grandmother's," Olivia explained before Bentz asked. "I inherited him.
    hairy ... named after Grannie Guy's favorite president, only spelled a little differently."
    "Not much of a watchdog."
    "Au contraire, Detective. This guy's tough as they come, aren't you?" she asked, scratching the dog's ear.
    "I usually advise a rottweiler or pit bull."
"Thanks, but I'll keep Hairy."
"And the bird."
"Definitely the bird."
He glanced around the little house. "You're a long way from the
    neighbors and you have pretty damned scary nightmares.
Aren't you afraid? You reported that you sensed the killer caught a
    glimpse of you somehow. It's so isolated out here. Aren't you nervous
that he might come after you?"
"I don't think he knows who I am."
"Yet"
She remembered the feeling that someone had been watching her through th
    e
    windows, the cold sensation that had run through her blood. "I try not
    to live my life in fear.
    I've got the dog, my grandmother's shotgun, and I keep the place locked.
    I'm careful," she said. "You have to remember.
    I grew up here. It's home."
    "A security system wouldn't hurt."
    "Maybe you're right," she agreed. "I'll mink about it."
    "Think hard." Bentz scooted out one of the cane-backed chairs at the
    small table. "Okay, let's talk about last night," he suggested,
retrieving a small pad from his jacket pocket.
"Can anyone confirm that you were here?"
    "Here, at the house ... no ... I was alone ... hey, wait a minute," she
    said, disbelieving. "Now ... what are you saying? Do I need an alibi?"
    "Do you?"
    "No. I'm the one who brought this to you, remember? I just told you I live alone. With my dog."
    "I'm just establishing what happened. You went to bed as usual and ... "
    "And I was asleep for about three hours, I guess." She glared at him as she took a chair on the opposite side of the table. "Look, I don't know how to explain it, okay? I used to get these ... dreams or visions as a little kid ... things that were happening ... but it wasn't all