Cold Case Squad by Edna Buchanan Read Free Book Online

watch my
every move.
    "Hey. Who the hell are you?" I ask. "What are you doing here?"
    He leaps gracefully down from the latticework, runs toward me, and
presses his face to my shoe.
    "Get outta here." I shake my foot free.
    Instead of retreating, he coils himself around my ankle. "Cut that
out!" I'm annoyed, until I realize he's obviously at home.
    He murmurs, trying to get my attention.
    "Holy shit, they didn't tell me about you."
    Damn. Adair and his bride neglected to mention this member of the
household.
    I continue on my rounds. He leads the way, tail straight up, busily
skirting the pool, past the fountain, along the north wall, through the
garden, down the driveway, then back to the house. He scampers ahead
and bounds up the stairs ahead of me.
    "You must be hungry."
    I frown as he springs onto the table to investigate the bag
containing my sandwich.
    "Come on." He follows me across the hall and we descend the back
stairs to the high-tech granite and stainless-steel kitchen of the main
house. My search of cupboards, pantries, and cabinets yields nothing.
    "Some detective I am," I tell my companion. "How's about you showing
me where they keep the cat food. Fetch! Go on, fetch." Instead, he
watches me and waits, tail twitching.
* * *
    He sits on the table eating his half of my meatball sandwich from a
saucer while I sit in a chair at the other end with mine and the
Miami
News
. He's not crazy about the tomato sauce but tears into the
meatballs and cheese.
    I watch him eat and wonder how he lost the tip of his left ear,
hoping he hasn't been maimed on my watch. This could be a valuable,
pedigree show cat, an exotic breed worth big bucks.
    "What happened?" I ask. "Trouble with a broad? I know how that is."
On closer inspection the injury appears old and well healed.
    He drinks water daintily from a cereal bowl, then jumps down to
start the figure eights around my ankle again.
    I never liked his kind. Me, I'm a dog person, at least I was until
we got Max. Connie and the kids always wanted an English sheepdog. He's
got pedigree papers and everything. But he's not like a real dog. The
big, worthless shaggy monster has a face so full of hair he can't see
in front of him. He costs a bundle to feed and is too damn dumb to even
raise his head when you call him. Only thing he ever barks at is a cat.
He wouldn't bark at a burglar unless the son of a bitch brought a cat
with him.
    I sigh, let this cat out, and get ready for bed.
    I put my wallet on the nightstand and remove the latest picture of
the kids. Jennifer is sixteen, her brother, Craig, Jr., thirteen, and
their sister, Annie, just turned eleven. I made it to the delivery room
for the first two but missed the last one. Caught a triple homicide
that night and was tied up until the next morning. I prop the snapshot
against the lamp. Jenny is wearing her red-and-white cheerleading
uniform, her smile bright and confident. Just like her mother's when we
met.
    Alone in the double bed, I wonder again how it came to this. Did the
job destroy my family life? Or did I? Were we always doomed? Is Connie
alone in our bed right now, thinking in the dark, asking herself the
same questions? Is there a way to make it up to her? Or is it already
too late?
    Connie always had her quirks, they were part of her charm. I played
left end on the varsity football team at Miami Senior High. She
transferred in from Homestead High in her sophomore year, made
cheerleader right away. Short with shiny dark hair and bright brown
eyes, exactly my type. We were inseparable from day one. The guys were
all jealous. Later she pinned the badge on my uniform when I graduated
from the academy and stepped into the whirlwind. Tough time to be a cop
in Miami. Opposing armies in the cocaine wars invaded the city. We had
the Mariel boatlift, Rastafarians, Santeria, and the cocaine cowboys.
They all came together like the perfect storm, bringing riots and the
highest murder rate in the nation. More than 630 men, women,