Cry Me a River by Nancy Holder Read Free Book Online Page B

crime scene, and the ME assistant on the scene had said one bullet. There’d be no need to go all over kingdom come looking for anything else. You did what you could with what you had. The department was as strapped as the rest of the economy. So many cases, so little time.
    “Two shooters,” Grace surmised, raising her brows. She thought about her dream, with the kite going up to the rooftop. Maybe that had been symbolic, going up on a roof. Ham looked equally intrigued, although, ofcourse, he didn’t know anything about any of her dreams. “They really wanted that guy.”
    “It appears so,” Rhetta said.
    “Why?” Ham asked. “He was just a scummy, low-life dealer. A bottom feeder. What’s the motive?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he fatally poisoned a lot of people?” Rhetta asked.
    Grace shrugged and looked at Ham. “Maybe Indian knows. He’s a bottom feeder, too.” She looked at Rhetta. “What have you got?”
    “The dealer had no wallet, but I found fibers consistent with leather—very cheap—in his pocket and he was still wearing a wallet chain. Traces of meth were on the chain and the fibers.”
    “Was it a robbery? A dealer might have a lot of cash on him,” Grace surmised, “if he was stupid.”
    “By definition,” Rhetta replied, “dealers are stupid.”
    “So they could have wanted the cash. Or committed payback on behalf of a loved one.” She fell silent, processing her thoughts, looking for a conclusion.
    Ham turned to Grace. “I’ll see what I can shake loose. Later?”
    Later, as in grabbing some burgers and rolling around in her sheets while they mulled over the case. “Clay,” she said apologetically. “Sleepover.”
    Ham looked bummed but he took the news well. He said, “Sure, man,” and Grace and Rhetta watched him trot away.
    Rhetta smoothed some errant strands off Grace’s forehead and sighed, pursing her lips. “I feel terrible about Malcolm.”
    “Jamal’s back in the Sixty-Sixes,” Grace said, “except he never left.”
    “Oh, that’s awful, Grace,” Rhetta replied, also very sad. “How’s Mr. Briscombe doing?” Ham’s call had gone out on police channels; bad news traveled fast.
    “Still alive. Sort of.” Grace had left the hospital to come to the crime scene. Jedidiah Briscombe had looked like death, shrunken in the hospital bed with a cannula in his nose that was giving him oxygen but not much comfort. “I put the word out, hope Jamal comes in to see him. If he does, I’m cuffing him to Mr. Briscombe’s hospital bed.”
    “Mae told me that some of the girls at school think boys in gangs are scary-cool. That’s what they say, ‘scary-cool.’” Rhetta looked stricken. “I don’t know what Ronnie would do if Mae … well, actually, he might lose his mind if she brought a boy home for a simple, innocent study date. Even a nice boy.”
    “I’m wondering if Malcolm joined up, too,” Grace said. “That could explain why he snuck out of the house. Maybe Tyrell gave him a job and Malcolm screwed up. Maybe he did something more unforgivable than getting fired from a place Tyrell hoped to toss.”
    “That sweet baby?” Rhetta caught her breath. “What if Todd joins a gang?”
    “He’s not going to join a gang. And Mae is smart. She wouldn’t date a gangbanger.”
    “You’re
smart. And some of the guys you wind up with …” Rhetta scrunched up her nose.
    Grace was mildly affronted. “Hey, I only pick up nice guys. Mostly.”
    “How about that one who left you handcuffed to your bed all day?” Rhetta countered.
    “Zach? He got scared. I forgot to tell him I was a cop.” Grace shook her head. “Rhetta, your kids are good kids. They’ll stay good kids. Thanks for moving on this so fast,” she added, changing the subject. “I know you’re busy.”
    “I gave you cuts. It was the least I could do, for Malcolm.”
    Bobby trotted up with a notepad and pencil in hand.His hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, and he was