Crossroads by Irene Hannon Read Free Book Online

secrets and even fewer off-limit questions.
    â€œIn all these years, has there ever been anyone…special in your life?”
    Mitch took a sip of his coffee and forced his lips into a smile. “I assume you mean a woman.”
    â€œThat’s what I had in mind.”
    Mitch thought of all the women he’d met in the past six years who had made it clear that they were available if he was interested. But he hadn’t been. Not even remotely. Not after… His pretense of a smile faded and he shook his head.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHmm.” Uncle Ray pondered that for a moment as he scooped up another bite of pie. “So no one’s ever caught your fancy, made you second-guess your decision to stay single?”
    For some disconcerting reason the image of Tess Lockwood suddenly came to mind, and Mitch frowned. How odd. He barely knew the woman. They weren’t even on a first-name basis. True, she’d somehow managed to touch a place in his heart that he’d carefully protected all these years. But it had to be just some weird quirk. What else could it be when they were essentially strangers? Mitch looked over at his uncle to find the older man gazing at him quizzically.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, son?”
    Mitch shook his head. “For some strange reason the mother of one of my problem students just came to mind.”
    â€œA friend of yours?”
    â€œHardly. We’ve only met twice. She’s a single mom who’s got her hands full with a troublesome teen and a new job. I’m not sure why I thought of her just now.”
    â€œThe mind works in mysterious ways,” Uncle Ray said noncommittally. “Well, I just don’t want to take up all of your free time. I can try to find one of the local boys to help me out.”
    â€œWe’ve been down that road before,” Mitch reminded him. “They’re either all working on their family’s farm or they don’t know one end of a plow from the other.”
    â€œGood help is hard to find,” Uncle Ray conceded.
    â€œSo let’s just go on as we have been,” Mitch concluded, savoring the last mouthful of pie. “It works for both of us. You get a farmhand, I get three square meals and fresh air, and we both get great conversation.” He wiped his mouth and grinned as he laid his napkin on the table. “And if you ask me, that’s a pretty good deal all the way around.”
    Â 
    The building was hot. And still. And ominous. A prickle of apprehension skittered across the back of his neck, and he tightened his hold on the gun. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He could sense it. And he’d been a cop long enough to respect his senses. Especially in abandoned warehouses.
    At least he wasn’t alone. Jacobsmeyer was circling in the other direction, only a shout away. And his partner was good. The best. Mitch drew a deep breath. Whatever was wrong, they’d find it. And fix it.
    He stopped at a closed storage door, listening intently. Nothing. He tried the knob. Unlocked. Carefully he eased it open. Darkness. An even stronger feeling of foreboding. He swept the beam of his flashlight over the floor. Trash. Empty cans. A sport shoe protruding from a pile of boxes. A beat-up shopping cart. Some… He suddenly went still, then slowly swung his light back to the shoe, his stomach clenching. God, let me be wrong! he prayed. But his eyes hadn’t lied. The shoe was attached to a leg.
    He sucked in his breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d been here before, and it was never pretty. But it was his job. Steeling himself, he picked his way over the trash to the boxes. Hesitated. Tookanother breath. Slowly let the arc of light travel up the body. Hesitated again. Finally moved it up to the face. Felt his world tilt. Crash. Shatter into a thousand pieces. And then he screamed. And screamed again. And again. And…
    Mitch jerked bolt upright in bed, shaking violently.