Her Last Chance by Toni Anderson Read Free Book Online Page B

to retrieve an overnight bag out of the trunk. It was
nearly three a.m. People were still on the street, between clubs or walking
home after a night out. Drunken laughter tumbled down the avenue, curiously
lighthearted for an evening filled with murder.
    “What were you doing in Queens
eighteen years ago, Josephine?” It was a question that had nagged him since
he’d found out about her childhood attack.
    She stopped in the middle of the
street, raised her face to the sky. “Can we leave it alone?”
    She was hiding something—nothing
unusual there. Everyone lied to the authorities; it was a question of figuring
out which lies mattered. Something told him this one mattered.
    There were no lights on inside her
redbrick tenement. Marsh climbed the steps beside her and inhaled the subtle
hint of citrus from her hair. Consciously he held his breath as she inserted
her key in the lock and pushed the door wide. Tried to hold onto that soft
fragrance rather than the faint odor of blood that clung to the ground floor
apartment. It wouldn’t surprise Marsh if the other residents stayed elsewhere
until the stench of violent death faded enough for them to regain the illusion
of safety. He’d suggest a hotel but knew she’d never go for it.
    Josephine stood stiff and uncertain
on the threshold. Her skin looked waxy. Marsh reached forward and flipped the
switch and light flooded the hallway, shining off the mosaic tile floor and
white walls that were smudged with patches of fingerprint powder.
    The door to the lower apartment was
taped shut—it could be days before evidence response teams released it.
    The hairs on the back of his neck
lifted.
    “Did the feds clear your apartment
before you left?”
    “No.” Her eyes blazed at him. “Why
would they? He left through the ground floor window.” Pointing at the sealed
off door, she looked like she wanted to hit him. “Are you actively trying to
freak me out or does it come naturally?” She closed the front door behind him.
    “A killer comes after you with a
knife yet I’m the one scaring you?” Hoisting his bag over his left shoulder, he
popped open his holster and took out his SIG-Sauer.
    Open-mouthed, Josephine watched
him. Shaking her head, she started up the stairs. He let her lead. Let her
unlock her door and then touched her arm and motioned her behind him. Despite
the way she rolled her eyes he detected a frisson of alarm pass through her, as
if she were only now realizing that she could actually still be in danger. The
guy could have come back here. He’d know that her guard would be down after
being questioned by the cops. He wouldn’t expect her to have an escort.
    The solid weight of his pistol felt
reassuring as Marsh pushed open the door and flipped the light switches. There
were no shadows, no monsters ready to jump out from behind the door. Marsh
dumped his bag inside and waved her forward, setting the lock behind him. If
the UNSUB was here, he wanted to nail the bastard before he hurt Josephine
again.
    “He’s not here,” she hissed.
    God save him from civilians.
“Unless you want to be terminally wrong, why don’t you stick close to me while
we make sure?”
    He held out his hand, watched her
reach uncertainly for his fingers. There was a jolt of awareness between them
that widened her eyes on contact. Her skin felt satin smooth. He tugged her
behind him, searched closets and each of the rooms, ending in her bedroom.
    Releasing her hand, he opened the
tall slatted doors and searched the built-in closet, poked his head under the
bed and when he was one hundred percent certain that the apartment was clean
and secure, he holstered his weapon.
    Josephine sank down onto the bed,
shrugging out of her jacket. Her head sagged and she looked as strong as a
blade of grass. Her forearm got stuck and she jerked uselessly at the heavy
sleeve. He went down on his knees, caught her hand which fisted instantly and
eased the cuff over her palm, letting the coat slide