Cold Case Squad by Edna Buchanan Read Free Book Online Page A

and
children murdered in a single year, more than a quarter cut down by
automatic weapons.
    Scores of cops were lost to bullets, stress fatigue, drugs, or
corruption. A lot of people were killed. Some are still walking around.
Money and temptation were everywhere. Guys from my academy class were
arrested for everything from drug trafficking to rape to racketeering
and murder.
    Writers said Miami was like Dodge City, the Wild West. They were
wrong. Dodge City was never as violent as Miami.
    I couldn't have survived it all without Connie. Once I got into
homicide, I was never home. A few times we talked about taking the kids
and getting the hell out. But we hung in. We are natives. I loved the
job. We loved Miami and each other. Then, seven years and three kids
into the marriage, I caught a case that changed it all. Teenagers
abducted on a first date. Both shot in the head. Sunny, the girl, about
the same age my Jenny is now, was raped. She barely survived. Ricky
Chance, the boy, died. For weeks I went home only to shower and change.
    The case consumed me. So did a woman. Her name was Maureen, a major
wreck on my highway to happiness.
    Maureen Hartley, the wounded girl's mother, isn't even my type. Tall
and blond with classic features, she dresses and moves like the top
model she once was. She is as cool as Connie is hot. But something
about her touched my soul.
    I cared.
    Her daughter's pain hurt her. So did her marriage to a rich and
manipulative man. I wanted to save her. At the very least I wanted to
solve the case, to give her and her daughter peace of mind. I couldn't
even do that. I tried to drink away the frustration of my failure.
    I didn't find the killers, didn't get the girl, and nearly lost my
marriage.
    She and the case haunted me, until a twist of fate fourteen years
later. I was assigned to the Cold Case Squad, living a normal family
life for the first time in years, when a reporter's tip reignited the
old investigation. This time, against all odds, we solved it. When I
saw Maureen again, the feelings were still there. She left her husband
for a time. I didn't know where it was all going but never had the
chance to find out. Like so many abused wives, she went back to the son
of a bitch. Maybe he brainwashed her, or maybe she likes the lifestyle
and the big bucks.
    Connie went ballistic, totally haywire, imagining far more than ever
happened.
    A year ago we had talked about act two, anticipating our lives when
the kids were grown up and out.
    Now I'm the one who's out. Without my job, I'd have no reason to
wake up in the morning. My job matters, it's important, it makes a
difference. Or does it? Is it seeking justice for others and saving my
sanity or is it ruining my family?
    I rewind history as I toss and turn.
    Connie is different these days. I'm beginning to suspect menopause
is an aggravating factor. She's only in her forties, but her mother
went through the change early. I've heard them discuss it enough.
Witnessed a few of her mother's outbursts and hysterical tantrums. If
that isn't it, I must have caused my wife a helluva lot more pain than
I realized all those years. Or is it Miami madness?
    I never used to think it affected us natives, but there could be
exceptions. People come to Miami and bizarre things happen. The
temperature soars, the barometric pressure drops, the full moon rises,
and people who are normal and otherwise rational start to use poor
judgment, really poor judgment. They suddenly conclude that outrageous,
dangerous, and deadly schemes are excellent plans.
    Take the student helicopter pilot who made his first solo flight
into a high-security prison to rescue a notorious murder suspect. Or
the guys who tried to smuggle drugs into Miami in a surplus Russian
submarine. Sure.
    Or the Cuban exiles who believed they were sending Fidel Castro an
important message by firing a bazooka at a Polish freighter docked at
the Port of Miami.
    The chopper crashed, breaking the pilot's ankle and the