Parker 02 - The Guilty by Jason Pinter Read Free Book Online

Jack asked.
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    "I wouldn't vote for him," I replied. "A little too much selfpromotion for my tastes."
    Jack pulled a pair of folding binoculars out of his pocket.
    He stared through them, peered along the dais and around the
    surrounding area. When he was done he passed them to me.
    I took in the scene. The marble steps leading to city hall
    were polished a gleaming white. The podium was empty,
    waiting for Mayor Perez and, I assumed, Costas Paradis.
    Three uniformed police officers stood on either side of the
    podium. They stood straight, arms at their sides, guns visible.
    I swung the binoculars from right to left. When I saw who
    was standing directly to the left of the podium, I nearly
    dropped the binoculars.
    "I saw him, too," Jack said. "He's not here for you. Be a
    professional."
    "Professional," I said, my mouth dry. "Right."
    Standing to the left of the podium was Detective Lieutenant Joseph Mauser. One year ago, Detective Joe Mauser had
    chased me halfway across the country, shot me in the leg, and
    barely escaped with his life after taking three bullets in the
    chest.
    I had followed Mauser's recovery over the months. Visited
    his guarded hospital room and was turned away by the very
    cops who'd wanted me dead before they found out the truth.
    After two months in the hospital--fully recovered, minus
    one spleen, two ribs and twenty pounds--Joe Mauser transferred from the FBI to the NYPD. He attributed the transfer
    as a tribute to his fallen brother-in-law and in-arms, John
    Fredrickson. The man whose death I was responsible for, indirectly or not. Mauser wanted to be closer to his sister, Linda,
    John's widow. In various interviews, Mauser insinuated that
    he held no ill will toward me. That given the circumstances
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    he would have defended his life and honor, as well. But a
    wound is a wound, no matter how it's caused, and the simple
    fact was his brother-in-law would still be alive if not for me.
    Mauser had sold the book and film rights to his story for
    a reputed seven figures. He said the money wasn't for him,
    but would feed his sister's family, educate her fatherless
    children. If not for Mauser, my life wouldn't have been saved
    by a beautiful stranger. The same woman who now shares my
    bed. I guess we could call it even.
    Mauser looked good, healthy and even a little tan. He
    looked like the kind of man who was proud to serve his city.
    And I was glad to finally be on his side.
    I could barely hear over the noise as reporters chirped into
    cell phones, cameras ran their feeds. Suddenly a hush came
    over the crowd and I saw Mayor Dennis Perez stride to the
    podium through the massive columns bracketing city hall.
    Walking alongside Mayor Perez was Costas Paradis. The
    normally confident man looked pale, tired. But looking
    through the binoculars, I could see the anger that burned for
    his murdered daughter.
    The mayor wore a striped gray suit and walked with a
    purpose. His mustache was neatly trimmed as always, but his
    eyes were bloodshot. He probably hadn't slept since Athena
    died. And Costas wasn't the kind of man to mourn. He was
    the kind of man whose grief turned to anger, whose anger
    turned to rage, and whose rage could scorch the earth. I just
    stood and hoped they found the killer before more families
    experienced that grief.
    The crowd grew quiet. Though the majority in attendance were paid to speak, discuss and bloviate as loud as
    humanly possible, they also knew that if they missed a
    single word they could miss a scoop, fall behind, give
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    people a reason to pick up a paper or watch a newscast other
    than theirs.
    I thought about Wallace's sign by the elevators. Then I
    looked at the sea of microphones and suits. Just like a
    marathon, a giant mass beginning as one. But that wouldn't
    last. The good ones would break away.
    Mayor Perez stepped to the podium. Costas Paradis stood
    next to Perez, and I could sense the mayor's discomfort, like
    a