Friction by Sandra Brown Read Free Book Online

any other agency, local, state, or federal. But Neal was making it perfectly clear that, from where Crawford was sitting tonight, he was to answer questions, not ask them.
    Neal continued, “You said that when the shooter busted in you were on the witness stand. Accurate enough?”
    “Yes.”
    “What issue were you and judge addressing?”
    “You told me you have a transcript of the hearing.”
    “We do.”
    “So…” He looked over at Nugent, who was shaking peanuts into his mouth. “What’s unclear, Sergeant Lester?”
    “The judge commended you for keeping all your appointments with a therapist.”
    “Right. She did. What’s that got to do with anything?”
    “It could have a lot to do with how you reacted to the unfolding situation.”
    “I don’t see how.”
    “Don’t get your back up. I’m just doing my job here.”
    “Right.” He gave Neal an icy stare, then shrugged. “Ask away.”
    Neal appeared all too happy to oblige. “Why were you mandated to get counseling before being granted another custody hearing?”
    “Did you ask Judge Spencer?”
    “Not yet. We plan to.”
    “Good. I’d like to know the reasons myself.”
    “Take a wild guess.” Neal grinned, but it wasn’t friendly.
    Crawford divided another look between the two investigators, letting his irritation show. But what would be gained by stonewalling? They would only conclude that he was ashamed of the required therapy sessions. And he was, to some extent. But he didn’t want them to know that.
    “I didn’t cope well with the sudden death of my wife. That was four years ago. Last year, I petitioned to regain custody of Georgia. Judge Waters was the presiding judge. He wanted to make certain that I could provide a stable home environment and required a year of therapy in order to determine that I was past all that.”
    “Define ‘all that.’”
    “Drinking more than I should. There were days when it was hard for me even to get out of bed in the morning.”
    “Classic depression.”
    “Classic grief.” Asshole . Crawford was tempted to tack that on, but didn’t.
    “You shirked your responsibilities at work. The Rangers removed you from the Houston office and placed you here.”
    “Actually, I requested the transfer. Since the Gilroys lived here, and Georgia was with them, I made the move to be closer to her.”
    Neal looked skeptical. “Your transfer had nothing to do with the incident in Halcon?”
    “By ‘incident,’ I gather you’re referring to taking out six of the Fuentes drug cartel including the big cheese himself?”
    “Plus two law enforcement officers and several bystanders. Your actions there came under careful review.”
    Nugent stopped munching his snack. The only sound in the room was the soft electronic whirring of the recording equipment.
    Crawford ground his jaw, letting his glare speak for him. He’d be damned before he’d go on record defending himself to Neal Lester, the self-righteous jerk.
    Eventually he picked up the thread. “You were eventually cleared of any wrongdoing.”
    “That’s right.”
    “But since then, you’ve stuck mostly to computer work. Credit card fraud. Insurance fraud. Kiddie porn rings. Things like that.”
    Crawford had requested to be moved to Prentiss for the reason stated, and he was assigned to work in conjunction with the law enforcement agencies of several surrounding counties. However, Neal was correct. If there was fieldwork involved, he let another Ranger assume it, while his investigations were more often confined to his desk. He refused to comment on it, though.
    Neal persisted. “Nothing to say about that?”
    “You more or less covered it.”
    Neal gave a noncommittal grunt. “If I deem it necessary, I may subpoena the therapist’s record of your treatment.”
    That got Crawford’s attention. Heat crawled all over him. “That’s privileged.”
    “I could appeal to the court.”
    “No judge would force her to hand over her record of our