Prey by James Carol Read Free Book Online Page B

attempted to stretch away the miles, his fingertips pointing to the heavens. He shrugged his muscles loose, then put on his sheepskin jacket and zipped it all the way up to his chin to keep out the chill. The trees lining the sidewalk were alive with every shade of brown, red and orange, and the sun was burning low in the sky. It was going to be one of those beautiful fall days where you could almost trick yourself into forgetting that December was just around the corner.
    Mendoza straightened her suit and headed for the entrance, Winter tagging along a couple of steps behind. The door opened on to a single room with a long counter separating the business and the public side. Access from one to the other was gained through a yard-long bar-style flap.
    There were two desks and no sign of any ancillary offices, which indicated that the Hartwood Police Department was strictly a two-man affair. Tucked away in one corner was a small six-foot-by-six-foot holding cell. Metal bars, and a metal bedframe that had been bolted to the floor and walls. No toilet, which was probably a blessing. A large map of Monroe County was fixed to one wall, and there was a door in another wall that presumably led out back.
    The guy behind the counter was in his mid-twenties. There was something in his expression that gave the impression that he wasn’t particularly bright. Maybe it was the vague look in his eyes, or maybe it was the way he was staring like he’d never seen real-life city folk before. Or maybe he’d just never seen a thirty-something man with white hair. Whatever the reason, it was clear this wasn’t the guy in charge.
    Mendoza pushed her sunglasses on to the top of her head and walked over to the counter. She flashed her badge. The cop stared some more, then slowly lifted his head until he met her gaze.
    ‘Chief Birch isn’t here yet.’
    He was soft spoken and timid, and if Mendoza had said ‘boo’ he would probably have died on the spot. His uniform was clean on and neatly pressed, the seams dead straight, and Winter wondered if his mom still did his laundry. The name tag read Peterson.
    ‘Maybe you can help us since you are here,’ Mendoza suggested. ‘We need some information about the Reed murders.’
    Peterson just stared at her like she was speaking in a foreign language. It took almost three whole seconds for him to process what she was saying. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.
    ‘Chief Birch should be here soon.’
    ‘Yes, but you’re here now.’
    His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t know anything about the Reed murders.’
    ‘The number of murders that happen in Hartwood, I can see how this one slipped your mind.’
    Another three whole seconds passed before Peterson responded. ‘Chief Birch should be here soon.’
    ‘Define soon.’
    Peterson gave her a blank look.
    Mendoza sighed. ‘My guess is that things don’t get too exciting around here, right? But every now and again you’ll get an emergency. So your boss leaves a number you can contact him on in case of an emergency.’
    ‘But it’s not an emergency.’
    ‘Just call your boss, okay?’
    ‘I can’t do that. He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s having breakfast.’
    Winter had heard enough. He flipped the counter up and made a beeline for the desk on the left. This was obviously Peterson’s as the computer was on.
    ‘Hey,’ Peterson called out, ‘you’re not allowed back here.’
    Winter ignored him and sat down. He opened the top drawer and went through it, and struck gold straightaway. He lifted out the contact list and scanned it quickly. Birch’s cellphone and home numbers were right up at the top. Mendoza had followed him through and was standing at his shoulder, her cell already out. Winter handed her the list and she punched Birch’s number into the phone.
    ‘You need to get back on the other side of the counter,’ said Peterson, but he was talking to himself.
    ‘Chief Birch?’ said Mendoza. There was a