Cash Burn by Michael Berrier Read Free Book Online Page B

right.” He scratched his eyelid. “A freakin’ model citizen. Why don’t you get out and leave me alone?”
    “You’re going to hurt my feelings, you don’t cut that out.”
    Flip shook his head. He reached for the television remote.
    “Leave the TV off, Convict.”
    His head rose, and a shadow passed over his eyes for an instant, then cleared. “Sure. No problem, Officer.”
    “What’d you do last Tuesday night? Just stay in, glued to the TV?”
    “Tuesday night . . . ? Let’s see . . .”
    Come on, deny it.
    “Oh yeah. Tuesday night I went out to Santa Monica. Went for a walk on the beach.”
    “You do a lot of walking on the beach at night?”
    “It’s kind of my new thing. You know, go out there and contemplate stuff.”
    “Meditate.”
    “Yeah, that’s right. Meditate.” Flip’s eyes lightened. He was perking right up.
    “How’d you get out there?”
    “Took the bus, of course.”
    “Why didn’t you take the Metro?”
    “Don’t like being underground.”
    “You’ll be underground soon enough. What number bus you take?”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “What number?”
    “I don’t remember. Down by Fairfax I had to change lines.”
    “You stop anyplace? See anybody?”
    “I saw about a thousand people. It’s a big city, Officer Cole.”
    Enough of this. It was pointless to sweat him, but they had no evidence at all. “Why’d you kill the kid, Flip?”
    It took under a second for Flip to paste confusion onto his face. The hesitation was just long enough. “What kid? What are you talking about?”
    “Did he do something to deserve it? Or were you just trying to stay sharp?”
    “I got no concept what you’re talking about.”
    Tom eyed him.
    A smile creased Flip’s face. “I am a model citizen, Officer. I don’t go to bars. Don’t associate with known felons. I go to the beach some nights. Meditate.”
    Tom stepped to him. He brought his face down to his.
    “You going to kiss me, Officer?”
    “I know you did the kid. I know it.” He held up three fingers. “That’s strike three.”
    “Get out of my face. You got nothing.” Breath like seeping garbage floated up to Tom’s nostrils. Flip’s eyes were empty holes. The emotion was flushed out of them. Shark eyes.
    Tom stood away. “You’re going back in, Flip.”
    “No.”
    “You’re going back in. I’m going to see to it. Strike three and you’re out.”
    “You got nothing. This is getting on toward harassment.”
    “The parole board’ll be real interested in your side of things.”
    Flip rose to face him. He said nothing. The expression on his face told Tom everything he needed to know. He measured the time it would take him to get to the Glock if he needed it.
    Flip said, “You done threatening me? You done harassing me? You done?”
    Tom stepped closer. Before turning to leave, he wanted to look longer in the flat pans of those eyes. Dead eyes. Hellish eyes. “Don’t get too comfortable outside, Convict.”

11
    Posture prim as a schoolmarm’s, Brenda wore a chiffon blouse buttoned all the way to her neck. That creamy column rose to cradle her pristine jaw. Her cheekbones swelled underneath those green eyes, domed by delicate eyebrows. Her lashes were full and black, and her lids were penciled in black too. Jason had seen Serena pencil around her eyes, and for an instant he imagined Brenda standing before the mirror in the morning applying her makeup.
    He patted her personnel file. “I talked to Margaret. She had nothing but good things to say. It took a little wrangling, but we got the transfer policy waived. You can start up here whenever you get her projects done. You’re working on the benefits package, right?”
    Brenda nodded, blonde hair bouncing against her smooth forehead. “It’s for open enrollment this fall. I can have that done today. There’s not much left.”
    “There’ll be a probation period. This is an important position—”
    Her brow furrowed for an instant,