Free Jonathan Kellerman_Petra Connor 02 by Twisted

It’s hard to tell Bonnie anything, but I’m insisting she’s definitely gonna have to get at least her GED. What kind of job can you get without that?”
    Petra nodded.
    Anna sighed again.
    â€œAnyway, ma’am, when she gets home, if you’d be so kind as to give me a call.”
    â€œSure,” said Anna. “This girl, you think she could’ve been with Bonnie?”
    â€œI really can’t say, ma’am.”
    â€œWhat did she look like?”
    â€œShort, a little heavy. She wore pink sneakers.”
    â€œThat could be Jacqui,” said Anna Ramirez. “Jacqui Olivares. She’s short and she used to be much fatter till she lost weight. But she’s still not skinny. And she’s got problems.”
    â€œWhat kind of problems?”
    â€œTwo kids. A boy and a girl. And she’s only seventeen.”
    â€œHave you ever seen her in pink sneakers?”
    Anna touched a finger to her mouth. Rocky stirred again and she bounced him gently on her knees, smoothed sweaty hair off his little brow.
    â€œNo,” she said, “I never noticed that. But Jacqui doesn’t come around here no more. I told Bonnie I didn’t want her here.”
    â€œBad influence,” said Petra.
    â€œYou bet.”
    â€œI have a picture of the unidentified victim, ma’am, but I need to warn you it’s not pretty.”
    â€œA dead picture?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œI seen dead people, saw my Rudy dead, go ahead.”
    Petra produced the least deathly of the morgue shots and handed it to her. Anna said, “That’s not Jacqui, I never seen this girl.”
    The address Sandra Leon had given wasn’t far from the Ramirez home, but when they got there, Petra knew she’d been had.
    The numbers matched a boarded-up bodega on a run-down stretch of abandoned homes backed by weed-choked alleys. Graffiti everywhere. Angry young men with shaved heads and eye-filling tattoos cruised the rutted streets, bopping, staring, sneering.
    Petra got out of there fast, drove to Soto Avenue, not far from the county morgue, and into the lot of a busy-looking gas station where she bought coffee for herself and a Coke for Isaac. He tried to pay her back but she wouldn’t hear it. As they drank, she got the number for Western Pediatrics Hospital, asked for Oncology, and waited a long time to be connected.
    The secretary on the other end said “That’s confidential” when she asked for Sandra Leon’s address.
    Petra lied easily. “I have reason to believe that Ms. Leon is in danger.”
    â€œBecause of her illness?”
    â€œBecause of a crime. A multiple murder that she witnessed.”
    Long pause. “You need to speak to her physician.”
    â€œPlease connect me.”
    â€œThe last name is . . . Leon . . . okay, here it is, Sandra no-middle-name. That would be Dr. Katzman. I’ll put you through.”
    What Petra got on the other end of the line was a soft, male voice on tape. “This is Dr. Bob Katzman. I’ll be traveling for the next two weeks, but I will be picking up messages. If this is a medical emergency, the Oncology on-call extension is . . .”
    Petra hung up and reconnected to the secretary. “Dr. Katzman’s gone for two weeks. All I need is Sandra Leon’s address.”
    â€œYou’re with the police?”
    I am the police, honey.
“Detective Connor.” Petra spelled it. “Hollywood Division, here’s my badge number and you can call to verify—”
    â€œNo, that’s okay, I’ll give you Medical Records.”
    Five minutes later, Petra had the address Sandra Leon had listed on her intake form.
    The girl had signed herself into care.
    â€œIs she an emancipated minor?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” said the records clerk.
    â€œIs there any adult’s name on the form?”
    â€œUm . . . doesn’t seem to be,