Breathe by Sloan Parker Read Free Book Online Page B

hand on his back. “Did you get the job?”
    He faced her. “Yeah. Three weeks and I get my first check. I"ll need a few
    bucks for spending money.” No need to mention the smokes and whiskey. “But after
    that, it"s all yours.”
    “I can"t take all your money, Linc.”
    “I"m going to help pay for this place and the other bills.” He forced her head up
    with a hand under her chin. “And that"s final.”

    Breathe

    31

    She bit her lip and nodded. The moisture in her eyes scattered with a blink of
    her eyelids. She sat at the table with the kids.
    Lincoln stopped off in the hall to wave at Adam, who lay on his bed texting a
    message on his cell.
    “Hey, Uncle Linc. Did you meet any drug dealers in prison?”
    “Jail. Not prison. And we didn"t talk about our crimes.”
    Adam waved an arm through the air and went back to typing with his thumbs.
    “Yeah. I get it.”
    Lincoln started down the hall and almost missed the “Glad you"re home.”
    “Me too.” He wanted to say more, but hearing about his stepdad being an
    asshole and how sorry Lincoln was that he and his siblings hadn"t gotten a better
    deal in life would embarrass Adam. No need to remind the kid that the two men
    who should"ve cared about him the most hadn"t bothered.
    Davy"s room had shrunk in size. Either that or Lincoln hadn"t walked off the
    beers like he thought. He left the plate of food on the desk and collapsed onto the
    bed.
    Crimes. Why had he used that word?
    Because he was a criminal. He"d been arrested. Handcuffed. Charged.
    Sentenced. Sounded like the consequences due a criminal.
    He breathed deep and closed his eyes. The small room filled with the scent of
    the charred edges on Nancy"s meat loaf and the smoke from the bar. Burning
    rubber, gasoline, and blood replaced the smoke and meat loaf. Sounds invaded the
    room. Metal crunching against metal, plastic popping loose, glass sprinkling over
    the highway, and the sirens in the distance that would never arrive soon enough.
    He swung off the bed and descended on the plate. He grabbed it and his duffel
    bag and charged across the hall into the bathroom. It took three flushes to get all
    the food down without a trace for Nancy or Sparky to find later. He showered,
    changed, and threw the smoke-covered clothes in with the dirty laundry.
    Back in Davy"s room, he was about to set the empty plate on the desk when he
    spotted the stack of mail. He"d gotten other envelopes like the one on top. He opened
    it and slid the two sheets of paper onto the desk. The first was a typed note, like all
    the rest.
    Ever wonder if she cried out in pain? If she felt the snap of bone? The crush of
    her chest?
    I do. Every night.
    Now I hope you will too.
    The plate slipped from his hand and clanked onto the desk.
    Lincoln seized the note. Underneath lay a photograph. He didn"t reach for it.
    Touching it would make it real. If he didn"t, maybe he"d wake in the morning and
    find out he"d had more to drink than he thought. He dropped the note and bent

    32
    Sloan Parker

    forward, resting his hands on his knees, keeping his face and body as far from the
    picture as he could, as if he were on a TV show, inspecting a dead body.
    Which he was. A photo of Katie Miller. In the morgue from what it looked like.
    She certainly looked dead. Who the hell had taken a picture?
    He flipped on the desk lamp and leaned closer. Every detail of the snapshot on
    Davy"s desk stood out. The pale skin. The bare shoulders. The cut that ran the
    length of her right cheek. The shiny metal surface of the silver table visible behind
    her body.
    He snatched the picture and backed up to the bed. His ass hit the mattress.
    She was dead.
    Because of him.
    He removed the wallet from his back pocket. Tucked behind his driver"s license
    was the newspaper clipping. He unfolded the paper, smoothing it over his thigh,
    moving his thumb in careful swipes.
    He"d memorized every word of the newsprint and every inch of the photo above
    her obituary. The