Never Look Down by Warren C Easley Read Free Book Online Page A

took drugs. Kelly climbed and tagged.
    â€œAre you limping?” Monica asked as Kelly sat down.
    Crap , Kelly thought, didn’t think she’d notice . “Not really. Just banged up my ankle a little.”
    â€œYour elbow, too. Did you fall?”
    She notices everything. “I, uh, tripped getting off the bus, but it’s fine.”
    Monica drew her face into a familiar look of concern. “My goodness. Maybe you should go to the infirmary.”
    Sheeze . The last thing I need is some nurse poking around . “Nah. It’s okay.” Kelly forced a smile. “Really.”
    In the middle of their chat, which was what Monica always called their discussions, Kelly almost blew it. Monica leaned back and seemed to trap Kelly with her eyes. “Are you sure everything’s okay? She asked. “You seem upset. Are things okay at the apartment?”
    An urge to tell Monica everything crashed over her like a sneaker wave. Telling Rupert had helped, but telling Monica would mean she could put the burden down completely. Kelly opened her mouth to speak but resisted the urge. Stubborn like her dad. “I, I, uh, I’m okay. Everything’s good, Monica.”
    She could tell Monica didn’t buy it, but it got her out of there unscathed.
    Kelly took the TriMet bus across the river and found a used backpack for forty bucks at a consignment shop on Sandy. It wasn’t identical to the one she’d lost, but it was dark blue, matching the color. She stopped next at a food cart where she wolfed down two pieces of pizza before heading home. Veronica was out, which was a relief. Kelly dutifully fed the ungrateful mutt and made a beeline for her bed.
    She managed to get both some math homework and an essay done before Veronica came home and stuck her head in to say goodnight, something she very seldom did. Kelly wondered what was up with her. After showering and putting on the last of the bandages and antiseptic, she slipped beneath the covers. But sleep didn’t come, so she put on her sweatshirt, jeans, and climbing shoes, slid her window open, and used the drainpipe to climb down into the dark alley. She walked three blocks to a turn of the century, four-story brick building with cornerstones like the ones she encountered the night before.
    The southeast corner of the building stood in deep shadow. Her ankle and elbow screamed out, but the exhilaration of a sixty-foot free-climb was worth the pain. It was a climb she’d done many times before. An old friend. A refuge.
    At the top she sat on the edge of the flat roof, hung her legs over, and breathed in the night air. As the sweat cooled her body she watched the traffic down on Sandy and began to relax.
    Trouble waited for her down there on the street, but up in her domain Kelly ruled.

Chapter Eight
    Cal
    I love the city of Portland, but I always look forward to getting back to my Aerie in Dundee. Except for the crows, the odd coyote, and the wind in the Doug firs, it’s quiet up there, and after a couple of hectic days in the city I’m ready for quiet. But that Friday night I stayed at Caffeine Central as a show of support for Nando. We were both anxiously awaiting news from Picasso. If he could tell me who K209 was, maybe we had a shot at helping find Claudia’s murderer.
    I changed into my jogging gear, leashed up Archie, and had nearly reached Johns Landing along the river when my phone went off. I managed a “Hello” as I struggled to catch my breath. I’d set a fast pace to clear my pipes.
    â€œCal? It’s Picasso. You okay?”
    â€œYeah. I’m jogging, man. What’s up?”
    â€œI took a look at the piece over on Everett and compared it with the one on your building signed by K209. No question they were both done by the same person.”
    â€œGood.” I waited and when he didn’t continue, added, “Still no idea who it is?”
    â€œNo, not yet. Nobody I talked to