Front Page Fatality by Lyndee Walker Read Free Book Online Page A

Mike’s hand. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
    I stared at Mike, and then at Parker. Parker had fans? I was impressed. And a little jealous.
    “I guess you heard a baseball player was driving the little boat, huh?” Mike asked Parker.
    Parker nodded, but I jumped in before he could say anything, impatient to get to the bottom of at least one story that day.
    “Aaron’s here, so he’s taking point on this, right?” I asked.
    “I saw him down closer to the crash site a little while ago,” Mike said. “Let me see where he went.”
    He called Aaron on the police radio attached to his shoulder, and we all heard Aaron say he was about fifty yards downstream from us.
    With Jenna and Parker in tow, I headed down the bank. It was tricky, navigating over the slimy rocks in the middle of the night. We’d had a wet spring, and the river had swollen almost to flood level, leaving the rocks along the banks coated with a layer of slippery goo once the water began receding. It was still fuller than normal and moving fast, judging by the bubbly whooshing that underscored the sounds around us. I wished I’d worn more practical shoes.
    Aaron looked up at me with a grim half-smile when I found him. “Nichelle. Nice night to be out on the river. I can’t believe this. Such a fucking waste.”
    “What happened?” I asked.
    “Probably be several days, and even then we won’t have the whole story because there were no survivors.” Aaron talked, I scribbled. “It looks like the ballplayer and his buddies were going too fast, and when they came around that bend, they didn’t have time to  avoid our boys.
    “The little speedboat came apart around the hull of the PD vessel,” he continued. “Their gas lines and tank also shredded, and the sparks set it off, so our guys ended up basically wrapped inside the explosion.”
    Jenna whimpered behind me and I closed my eyes, as if that could somehow banish the image he just put into my head.
    “Good God, Aaron.”
    When I had my wits about me again I returned to my questions. “Who was it? On the police vessel, I mean?”
    “Couple of rookies.” He shook his head. “Both under twenty-five, not too long out of the academy. This kind of shit makes me sick. Senseless.”
    I had never seen Aaron so upset. Not often at a loss for words, I laid a hand on his arm. He stared at the flames as he spoke. “I know. It’s all part of the job, right?”
    “I don’t like it, either,” I said, remembering some of the stories that had made me feel as bad as he looked. “What were they doing way out here? Isn’t that the big patrol boat? Did somebody drown?”
    “Yes, it is,” he said, his shaking head seeming to contradict the affirmative answer at first. “And no, no one drowned. At least, not that we got a call about. I’m not sure what they were doing, and we still haven’t been able to get the commander of the river unit on the phone. He’s going to have a very unpleasant day tomorrow.”
    I nodded, still writing. “I’m going to need the names and records of the officers who were killed, and contact info for the next of kin. I’m sure Parker here will have a piece on the baseball player.”
    Aaron looked over my shoulder.
    “Hey! Grant Parker!” Aaron’s dark mood appeared at least partially forgotten.
    Stepping forward, Parker shook Aaron’s hand. Aaron gushed about Parker’s golden arm, just like Mike had.
    I waited for a break in the Parker-adulation, and when Aaron started stumbling around the inevitable apology for the way Parker’s pitching career had ended, I took the opportunity to steer the conversation back to the crash. “When can I have the accident report?” 
    “We should have something Monday,” Aaron said. “Probably not any earlier, though.”
    I made a face. Monday didn’t do me much good when I wanted the story for Sunday’s early edition.
    He walked away after I thanked him, both for the phone call and the interview, and I tried to stand taller