Faint Trace by M. P. Cooley Read Free Book Online

unaware of the panic she’d caused. She grabbed my hand to swing, but without two parents she ended up running around me, not getting the lift she wanted. She stumbled and tried to compel me to do what she wanted—­“Up, up!”—­but I pulled her along.
    The three of us made it to the car lurching sideways. Kevin had his arm over my shoulder, and while to an outside observer it might appear casual, the weight of his body got heavier and heavier. Lucy pulled in the other direction, not understanding why she couldn’t take off. On the drive home both Kevin and Lucy fell asleep, but Kevin woke with a start when I stopped at a red light.
    â€œI guess you need the extra help when you can’t even count on me,” he said, quietly. “For anything.”
    â€œI count on you for everything.” I knew this was true. “My heart is breaking, but it can’t be broken yet.”
    â€œIt can’t ever be broken,” His voice softened in the dying light. “You have to stay whole for Lucy.”
    â€œHow about you stay whole for Lucy?”
    â€œI would if I could. If I can.” He paused. “This is what you want?”
    â€œThis is what I need.”
    The car behind us beeped and I dragged my attention back to the road.
    â€œHopewell Falls has great breaks out on the Mohawk, right?” Kevin said. “Because I think I want to pick up surfing again.”
    I smiled at him. We were off, making the best plans we could for a future we didn’t want. I was going home.

 
    Acknowledgments
    When William Morrow approached me to do a prequel to Ice Shear , I jumped at the chance. I appreciate the inspiration and thoughtful editorial guidance from the whole team, including Rachel Kahan, Trish Daly, Ashley Marudas, Camille Collins, Eileen DeWald, Tom Egner, Dana Trombley, and Emily Krump.
    Special thanks go to my agent Lisa Gallagher for her enthusiasm for June Lyons’ story and the books. My early readers, Kate Curry, Nita Gill, Tambi Harwood, Maggie King, and Lou Moore, caught plot snags, California geography errors, and the overuse of the word “well.” I couldn’t have done it without them.

 
    Read on for an excerpt from
    FLAME OUT
    The thrilling second installment in
    M.P. Cooley’s June Lyons series,
    on sale May 19, 2015

 
    Chapter 1
    T HE RAIN WAS UNFORGIVING .
    Dave was doing a lousy job of holding up his half of the house. My arms strained under the weight of his niece’s birthday gift—­a large backyard playhouse—­and it was slow going back to my car. The spring rain had soaked through the layers of cardboard, and my knuckles scraped against the hard red plastic panels where the box disintegrated.
    â€œYou know,” I said, “that spin-­art kit would’ve fit in the back seat with room to spare.” I hefted the playhouse, shoving it hard, but it jammed against my trunk’s lockbox, which held my ser­vice revolver. “And I bet Tara would’ve had a lot of fun with the costume trunk.”
    â€œMy niece isn’t a princess dress kind of girl.”
    I stopped short as a red Subaru sped past, spraying the back of my legs with water. “The kit includes fake mustaches and Groucho eyebrows. She could wear those with the glittery pink sandals.”
    â€œUntil she trips and breaks her skull. Blood. Everywhere.” He reversed, backing the box into the trunk. “Can you lift your left side a little higher?” I raised it up to my shoulders.
    â€œThat’s the trick,” he said.
    It wasn’t the trick, and the edge slipped out of my hand and dropped to the ground.
    â€œYou. Out of my way,” I said. He stepped aside, defeated. The steady rain flattened his black curls, and the wet white box smeared the arms of his Jets windbreaker with saturated cardboard. I balanced one side of the box on the edge of the trunk, and using leverage, shoved most of it in.