The Eyes Die Last by Teri Riggs Read Free Book Online

here.” 
    “That’s right.  Déjà vu.  This same scenario has happened before.” 
    Kennedy’s head butted against the passenger seat’s head re st . “What are they over there?  Murder magnets?” 
    “Who the hell knows why the criminal element loves the news people so much?  All I know is they have a lot of common interests.  Like being slime balls, conscience-lacking morons, shit disturbers, dick-heads, fuckin’ ass holes who would sell their first born child for a story, and any other number of vile characteristics you can come up with.  And that’s just my short list.” 
    “Gee, Wilder, you don’t think too highly of our city’s news people do you?”  Kennedy struggled not to laugh at her partner’s red face. 
    It was a well known fact that news people and officers of the law are not the best of friends.  Never have been, never will be.  Detective Wilder James especially hated the media.  Back in the late 1970’s he’d survived a media feeding frenzy when he was shot and his partner—Patrick O’Brien, Kennedy’s father—was killed in the line of duty during a botched bank robbery they’d interrupted. 
    “All news people are scum.  I’ve never met one I could stand to be in the same room with for more than five minutes.  You were too young to remember how they went after my reputation, and your father’s, after he was killed.  Paddy wasn’t even alive to defend himself when they went for our jugulars.  I took care of it, though.  They messed with the wrong man when they decided to try and trash Paddy and me.” 
    “You’re wrong, Wilder.  I remember how it was.  Momma cried nonstop and locked herself in her bedroom for hours on end, curled up with one of Da’s sweaters wrapped around her.”  Kennedy’s voice softened.  “She just slipped into her own little world, and no one was allowed in.” 
    “Sorry.  I shouldn’t bring that old crap up.” 
    “It’s okay.  It all happened a long time ago.  I’m fine.” 
    “That’s right, Kenny, you’re fine now.” 
    “I remember IA hanging around, asking all their stupid questions.  You and Grandpa got into shouting matches with them all the time.  If I walked into the room when you guys were arguing, everyone would hush and look at me funny.  I felt like I did something wrong.” 
    “Nah, it wasn’t you.  You were just a tiny thing, walking around with your eyes swollen and red-rimmed, looking for your father, refusing to believe he was gone.” 
    “You make me sound so pitiful.”  “You were back then.” 
    “I remember the media camped out on our front lawn for days.  At the church before the funeral, and afterwards at the cemetery.  When a reporter stuck a microphone in my face, you shoved him away.  After he got in my face a second time, you punched him.” 
    “Yeah, I laid him out cold, even with my shoulder in a sling.” 
    “It took two officers to get you off of him before they hauled your ass away in a squad car.” 
    She could see it all like it’d happened only yesterday. 
    Wilder shrugged.  “It wasn’t a big deal.  The boys in blue and me, we just went and knocked back a couple brews at Flannery’s Pub.  The media never knew the difference.” 
    “You fixed everything, didn’t you?” 
    “That I did.  I got rid of both the media and Internal Affairs.”  His fingers stopped tapping.  Now, they gripped the steering wheel. 
    “And four short weeks after Da’s death, Momma killed herself.”  Kennedy felt the familiar crushing pain in her chest as she remembered finding her mother dead from an overdose of tranquilizers.  During those last four weeks of her life, a depressed Mae O’Brien had spent more time with her stash of pills than with her own little girl.  In all of Kennedy’ life, she had never felt so alone. 
    She’d been bad the morning her mother died.  Bored, lonely and missing her father, Kennedy had decided to play dress up in one of his