Never Fear by Scott Frost Read Free Book Online

corner and flicked on the light switch but nothing came on. I took a step in and let my eyes adjust to the dark. The kitchen was beyond the living room and there was a door to the right and a door to the left, both closed. I took a step toward the body and saw that it wasn’t Lopez.
    The front of the crisp white shirt of Detective Williams was darkly stained with blood. His tie was flipped up across the middle of his face. A large open wound had cleanly cut his throat.
    The small-speed holster on his belt was empty. I checked his hands and the floor around the body but the gun wasn’t there. When I looked up I saw out of the corner of my eye that the door on the left was partly open. I started to turn and raise my weapon but I knew it was too late. I saw a rush of movement, and then felt the blow strike me in the ribs on my left side. The pain shot through my body like a jolt of electricity. My knees buckled and I collapsed onto the floor. I gasped for breath, but the air felt as if it were a fire spreading through my lungs. I tried to raise my gun but it was kicked out of my hand before I could.
    â€œI didn’t do this,” said a voice with a Latino accent.
    I tried to look up but even the simple movement of raising my head caused a wave of pain to shoot through my entire body. I looked down expecting to see blood blossoming on the fabric of my shirt but there wasn’t any.
    â€œI didn’t do this,” he said again, louder.
    The walls of the room began to spin as I started falling into unconsciousness. I felt a hand groping inside my pocket and removing my ID.
    â€œDelillo,” my attacker said. “Do you understand, I didn’t do this.”
    For an instant I saw his face as he tossed my ID onto my chest. He said something else, but I couldn’t hear a single sound, and then the world slipped away from under me.
    The sound of the TV brought me back. It was a Spanish station, a clown chasing two women in bikinis around a stage. Had a minute passed? A few seconds? I couldn’t tell. I was on my back, just as I had been when I passed out. I took a breath and a jolt of pain shot through my chest and I nearly vomited. I felt myself beginning to slide back toward unconsciousness but I fought it off, repeating No, no, no , to myself in my head.
    I took a shallower breath, just managing to get enough air before the pain sent me reeling. Where am I? Put the pieces back together . I hadn’t been shot or stabbed. Something had hit me.
    â€œWilliams,” I whispered.
    He was lying several feet from me, the throat wound glistening in the light from the TV. I slowly rose to my knees and saw that I was sitting in a stream of blood. I could feel the moisture soaking through the fabric of my slacks. My heart began to race out of control. I tried to move away from it, to wipe it away from my legs, but with every exertion my head spun faster and faster back toward unconsciousness.
    The sound of the door opening and the flood of light from the hallway snapped me back to the moment. The dark shadow of a figure in the doorway reached into the room and seemed to envelop me. I grabbed for my weapon, then remembered that it had been knocked from my hand. I was helpless. I stared at the shadow, waiting for it to close on me, waiting for another blow, but it didn’t come.
    As I started to turn toward the door, numbness began to spread the length of my arms and into my hands. I took a shallow breath, then another and another, then slowly turned to the door. A small child, a boy, maybe five years old, was staring at me.
    â€œPolice,” I managed to say.
    The child stared in wonder at me, and I felt myself beginning to drift again and tumble back toward the darkness.
    â€œPolice,” I whispered. “Pol . . .”

7
    It was nearly 2 A.M. when LAPD Robbery Homicide detectives released me from the scene. The first uniforms to arrive at the apartment put me in cuffs for several minutes,