Prey by James Carol Read Free Book Online Page A

been pimped accordingly. Darkened windows, leather upholstery, metallic white paintwork, and a sound system that turned the car into a nightclub. They’d been pulled over twice. The first time as they’d skirted past Binghamton, and then fifteen miles south of Syracuse. On both occasions Mendoza had shown her badge and they’d been back on the road again a couple of minutes later.
    For the last ten miles the roads had been getting narrower and more rural, the trees taller. Despite the tight turns, Mendoza was still driving fast, and that was fine with Winter. The quicker they got there, the better. He would have preferred to be behind the wheel but at least she wasn’t hanging around. The further they got from New York, the more relaxed he was feeling. The interview room was a distant memory, and there was a sense that things were finally moving in the right direction.
    They passed a signpost that read HARTWOOD : THE SMALL TOWN WITH THE BIG HEART. Up ahead, was an old wooden kissing bridge that had been painted a rustic brown. It was in pristine condition. A photo opportunity, if ever there was one.
    Mendoza glanced over from the driver’s seat. ‘If this turns out to be one of those Twilight Zone towns and I end up murdered in my sleep, I’m coming back to haunt you. Are you hearing me?’
    Winter laughed. ‘And it would be nothing less than I deserve.’
    ‘I’m serious.’
    ‘I don’t doubt that for a second.’
    They crossed the bridge at fifteen miles an hour, wood clattering all around them and the sound of that big engine bouncing back off the roof. The BMW rumbled out the other side and was swallowed up by the trees again.
    ‘So why did you become a cop?’
    ‘Where did that come from?’
    ‘It’s just a question.’
    ‘I don’t do personal.’
    ‘Nor do I.’ Winter left the statement hanging there and waited for Mendoza to look over. ‘The reason I joined the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was because I was trying to make sense of what my father did. The reason I left was because I’m still trying to make sense of that. Okay, your turn.’
    Mendoza didn’t say anything for a bit. She kept stealing glances at him from the driver’s seat.
    ‘My dad was a cop,’ she said eventually. ‘So was my grandfather. I guess you could say that it’s the family business.’
    ‘Is your dad still a cop?’
    Mendoza shook her head. ‘He retired ten years ago. Him and my mom moved up to New Hampshire.’
    ‘What about your mom? Was she a cop?’
    ‘No, she was a cop’s wife. She was the one who wanted to move. After thirty years she just wanted to get as far away from New York as possible.’
    ‘I’m guessing she wasn’t exactly thrilled when you decided to follow in your dad’s footsteps.’
    ‘No she wasn’t, but she wasn’t surprised either. Okay, no more questions.’
    A couple of minutes later they reached the town. As they cruised slowly up Main Street, Winter experienced a sense of temporal dislocation, like they’d travelled back in time to the turn of the last century. There wasn’t a single chain store in sight. No McDonalds, no Walmart, no Starbucks. A red-and-white striped candy pole turned lazily outside the barber’s shop. The drugstore had a sign saying APOTHECARY , and the largest building belonged to the general store. The garage sold gas, and repaired cars, and was one of those businesses that had probably been passed down from father to son for generations. Winter started humming The
Twilight Zone theme and Mendoza ignored him.
    Hartwood’s police department was located in a small one-storey concrete office building halfway along Main. Mendoza parked in an empty slot and killed the engine. The dirt-streaked Ford Crown Victoria next to them was more than ten years old and probably had two hundred thousand miles on the clock.
    ‘You think that’s the only car that the Hartwood PD own?’ Winter asked as he opened the door.
    Mendoza ignored him again.
    Winter got out and