Body Double by Vicki Hinze Read Free Book Online

please.”
    “Okay. I’ll have the car delivered there.” He dried the dishes and stowed them in a cabinet over the sink. “We’ll bypass the harbor, in case your shadows are hanging around, waiting for us to get back.”
    The air force standard-issue sedan was parked at the harbor dock. “What do we use for transportation?”
    “We leave the boat at my house, pick up my Hummer, and go from there.”
    He had a Hummer, a house on the water, a huge boat. “Your pay grade must be a lot higher than an S.A.S.S. operative’s.”
    “It’s the same.” He didn’t look at her, but the corners of his mouth drew down and he shifted, clearly uncomfortable.
    “Really?” She hiked an eyebrow but restrained herself from asking the question.
    “Don’t get diabolical on me, Amanda. I’m not on the take and I didn’t inherit a fortune.”
    “Fair enough.” She shrugged. “What did you do?”
    “I designed a few mystery games called Dirty Side Down.”
    “The computer game?” It was all the rage with the college set and she and Kate had played often. Neither had won, but they’d played. “Kate never mentioned you had created them.”
    “You didn’t know me, and I don’t advertise it. Notoriety gets in the way of the job, so I avoid it.”
    He’d be worthless in his job if he had to deal with fame. “So Dirty Side Down is subsidizing your income.”
    “All four versions of it.” He nodded. “Games pay well.”
    Interesting. Not a word about any of this was mentioned in the dossier Kate had given her. “How well?” She pushed, not quite ready to completely trust him.
    “Very.” He smiled and there was just enough playfulness in it to set her mind at ease. “If you’re through being suspicious, we can get going.”
    “I’m reserving judgment on suspicions—you go through a lot of women. Odd, a six-date limit—but I am ready to go.”
    He ignored her not-so-subtle inquiry and smiled. “We’re off to jail, then.”
    Amanda nodded, hoping that beyond visiting other prisoners, Mark’s words didn’t prove prophetic.
     

    Major M. C. Harding sat waiting in an interview room typically reserved for attorney/client visits. Unlike words spoken, his appearance couldn’t be faked, and it was consistent with that of an innocent man falsely accused who was grieving the death of his wife. He looked gaunt, his eyes sunken, as if his being in jail had sucked all the life out of him and left only a brittle, bitter shell.
    He stared at her across a scarred table, his voice deadpan flat and hopeless. “I don’t have anything to tell you, Captain West, that I haven’t already told Mark several times. I don’t know what happened to Sharon. I only know I didn’t kill her. No one wants to hear that. They want me to talk about evidence, but I don’t know anything about evidence, and I don’t give a damn what it supposedly says. If it proves I killed Sharon, it’s wrong.”
    He certainly came across as earnest and sincere, if hostile. Understandable, if in fact he was innocent. Ordinarily, she’d strive for more compassion and tiptoe, but considering the potential consequences, she didn’t have the luxury of spare time. She’d have to be blunt and to the point. “In the interval between your initial absence and your arrest, is there any segment of time for which you can’t account? I’m not looking for alibis from others. I’m talking about intervals of time where you don’t know where you were or what you did.”
    He glared at her. The red flush of anger swept up his neck and flooded his face, and he shot a daggered look at Mark. “What the hell are you doing, bringing her here to ask me questions like this?”
    “Calm down, M.C.,” Mark said. “You don’t understand—”
    “The hell I don’t. I understand plenty.” He shoved back from the table. “I’m already convicted, man. I didn’t do a damn thing, but that means nothing to anyone but me. I trusted you, and you bring some hotshot in here to