Never Fear by Scott Frost Read Free Book Online Page B

said.
    â€œI’ll need an address for a Dana Courson in the public defender’s office. She’s a paralegal,” I said.
    â€œI’ll get it,” Chavez said. He took a breath and looked up toward the ash falling out of the darkness. “I could ask what the hell is going on, but I don’t like feeling foolish in front of two of my officers.”
    He leveled his big eyes on me. “Is it true Manning was your brother?”
    I nodded. “Half brother.”
    â€œAnd you’re sure it wasn’t suicide?” Chavez asked.
    I looked down at the blood staining my pants. “I am now.”
    Chavez thought about it for a beat.
    â€œThis is all about a fax?” he asked.
    â€œThat’s the starting point,” I said. “I don’t know what it’s about.”
    The chief looked across the street at the small army of LAPD personnel that had taken over much of the block.
    â€œWe have to make this look like it’s entirely about your brother,” Chavez said. “Any hint that we’re interfering with the investigation of Williams’s murder, LAPD is not going to be happy.”
    I nodded.
    â€œI’ll need to find out what Williams knew so far,” I said.
    â€œI’ll see what I can do,” Chavez answered. “And I’ll find Dana Courson and have a squad watch her. I want a doctor to take a look at those ribs, and then Harrison will take you home.”
    He opened the passenger door, helped me gently into the seat, and wrapped my seat belt around me.
    â€œWorrying about you is turning me into an old man,” he said with a half smile.
    â€œYou were an old man even when you were young,” I said.
    He looked at me with his big eyes that seemed to take on more sadness with every day on the job.
    â€œI’m sorry about your brother,” Chavez said.
    We looked at each other for a moment.
    â€œI’m sorry I didn’t know him,” I answered.
    I touched his cheek, and he closed the door and walked back toward the crime scene. I stared at the coroner’s van for a moment.
    â€œWilliams apparently was a better cop than we realized, ” I said. “That could just as easily have been me in there.”
    Harrison let the silence swallow the thought for a moment and looked back across the street.
    â€œIt wasn’t, though.”

8
    The X-rays showed cracks in the fourth and fifth ribs on my left side, but they remained in one piece and hadn’t punctured a lung. The doctor rewrapped them, suggested as little movement as possible for several days, and gave me some pain meds to get me through the next twenty-four hours. He offered me hospital scrubs to replace my bloodstained slacks for the ride home, but I refused them. I didn’t want it to be easy to distance myself from what had happened in the apartment. Williams deserved at least that much, and I wanted to remind myself that I was only alive because Lopez wasn’t a killer.
    The winds were blowing harder up in the hills above Pasadena, where I lived. We pulled onto Mariposa and drove up to the end of the block where my house sat on the edge of the San Gabriels. Smoke from the fires in the Verdugo hills was west of us. The air was clear here. The glow of the flames was just visible above the ridgeline in the distance.
    Harrison pulled the car up to the top of the driveway and stopped. I reached for the buckle on the seat belt and a spasm of pain shot through my chest. It took a moment to catch my breath.
    Harrison reached over and unbuckled the belt, then got out, walked around, and opened the door. He took my arm and gently helped me to my feet. I looked into his eyes for a moment and felt my breath come up short but it wasn’t because of any pain, or at least not the kind a pill can dull.
    â€œI think I’ll need some help inside,” I said. “I don’t think I can get into the tub.”
    He reached up and carefully pushed several