Double Vision (Unknown Identities #2) by Regan Black Read Free Book Online Page A

her fists on her hips. "What's it to you?"
    "Chivalry?" She didn't look convinced. "Come on. It's the right thing to do. Just let me help you get home or wherever you want to go."
    "Forget it. I've had enough trouble for one night. You could be a serial killer. Maybe you 're the guy who took my purse."
    "Wrong on both counts." He held up his empty hands. "But call a cop if you want."
    Still the woman dug in her heels. "The cabbie will wait while I grab cash from my apartment."
    He laughed again. "I heard the city girls were tough, but you don't have to prove it for all of them on this one point." He tucked his hands into his pockets, going for the non-threatening, nice-guy effect. "Blame it on my Midwestern genes." That sounded like a valid excuse. She had no way of knowing that between being an orphan and signing on with the Unknown Identities program his genetics weren't much more than a vague rumor at this point.
    It was tough not to push harder . He wanted to get her someplace safe enough to discuss why she was in the middle of his mission. He felt like a sitting duck out here, on display for whoever might be watching her.
    And him.
    Like Player Three.
    As if the thought summoned trouble, he heard someone call out her name.
    The man jogged over with an easy lope, his detective shield reflecting the glare of the emergency lights from the vehicles still on the scene. He had a few inches on Adam and based on his impeccable attire he took his assignment in the Garment District seriously. The tie, knotted perfectly in a full Windsor style, the razor-sharp crease on the slacks, and the mirror-like polish on the shoes made a striking first impression designers probably appreciated. Adam figured it was a toss-up if the detective was smart, gay, or blessed with a style-savvy wife.
    He tried to ignore his inner-analyst in favor of getting out of the street and back on task.
    "Miss Vaccaro, I'm Detective Butcher." He handed her a card. "If you could just walk me through what happened up there."
    "This can't wait until tomorrow?" Adam asked. "She's had a tough night."
    "She's our witness." Detective Butcher gave Adam a long look he'd classified as New York skepticism. "You the Good Samaritan I heard about?"
    Adam shrugged. "I didn't do much." Yet .
    "I resisted his help," Vaccaro explained. She clutched the blanket the paramedics had provided closer to her chest. "But I didn't see anything. There was a blinding bright light and then too much noise and smoke. Then my purse was gone."
    "Why were you in the apartment?"
    "Watering the plants for a friend who is traveling."
    She delivered the line with more confidence this time. Good for her.
    "At midnight?"
    "I run a retail space. It was a busy day in a busy season."
    "Uh-huh." The detective asked her the name and address of her showroom. "You had a key?"
    Adam noted the way Vaccaro's eyes narrowed.
    " Yes, I have – had – a copy of all three keys," she said, "and the security code too. But the power was out in the apartment, so that wasn't an issue."
    "I see." He scribbled something on his notepad. "You're familiar with the apartment then?"
    "Yes."
    Adam didn't need any extra skill to see where this was leading, but it was too late to derail the situation.
    "Could you come upstairs and tell us if anything is missing?"
    "Is the power back on?" Adam asked in unison with Vaccaro.
    He glanced her way but she was waiting for the detective's reply. Silently, Adam cheered her fortitude. Most people wouldn't be thinking so clearly after this kind of ordeal.
    "No," Butcher admitted. "They're working on finding the source of the power problem."
    Good luck with that, Adam thought. The source of the problem had to be Player Three and Adam held no hope of New York City's finest getting a lead on that twist in this crime.
    "What exactly did you see, Mr. Maxwell?"
    Adam tried not to laugh. If he answered that question truthfully they'd send him to a psych ward. "I think it might have been some sort