The Lost Sister by Russel D McLean Read Free Book Online

that.
    â€œAnd yet you told Jennifer Furst about the reporter?”
    He must have seen the wince. I couldn’t stop it. Not when I realised how Burns had figured my involvement. He wasn’t simply keeping an eye on the Furst house. Jennifer Furst had called ahead first chance she got. Told him everything about my little visit.
    Did I believe it could have gone down any other way?
    â€œWhatever you want,” I said, “I’m hands off in this investigation.”
    â€œI know what you think of me,” he said. “But I love that girl. I want to find whoever took her. I want her back at her mother’s. I want another portrait drawn of me before I get too fucking old.”
    Burns sipped at his coffee again.
    Mine still sat untouched on the breakfast bar. Cooling.
    â€œLast time we met, McNee, I said that I knew you. That we were more alike than you care to admit. I don’t say anything I don’t mean. Don’t believe anything I don’t think I can prove.”
    â€œI proved you wrong.”
    He smiled. Patiently. Indulgently. I wanted to punch him. “We share the same worry over Mary. My fears of course are personal. She’s my goddaughter. Might as well be my own daughter. I care for her like that. You…I don’t know why you’re so worried about her.”
    â€œEmpathy,” I said. “Doesn’t matter if she’s related. Right there, that’s the difference between us.”
    He smiled. “Your years as a copper…they drill that hate right into you, don’t they? They say about men like me, these are the bad men and they are evil. The bad men, your superiors say, are not like us. They are not like the man on the street. They are not like the victims . They can never be victims.”
    â€œWould you call yourself a victim?”
    He turned, took his mug to the stainless steel sink and poured away what remained of his coffee. Couldn’t be cold yet.
    â€œA survivor,” he said.
    He seemed tense, shoulders bunched, and every movement controlled. Keeping his back to me, too. I remembered how he’d been in the hospital. At the time, I’d thought maybe I was the first person in years to see him truly afraid.
    He’d shown me something he never intended. Something no one else had seen. Maybe that was what gave rise to his sudden conviction that we were somehow the same.
    â€œI want to hire your services, McNee.”
    â€œMy services?”
    â€œAs an investigator. You want an ‘in’ so bad to my goddaughter’s disappearance…well, here’s your chance. An invite, as it were. I’ll hold back nothing if she’s recovered safely. You’ll have whatever you need. Whatever fee you require.” He turned back to face me, relaxed again, whatever fear he’d been hiding washed away as easily as the coffee down the drain.
    â€œWorking for you?”
    â€œIs my money somehow worth less than anyone else’s?”
    I didn’t know how to react. Settled for silence and stillness. Giving nothing away.
    â€œYou can think on it,” he said. “I don’t require an answer right away. But I know that you’re not working for the reporter. That you’re looking into this as a favour. He never paid you.”
    How did he know that?
    â€œWhatever it costs, McNee.”
    I stood up. “Thanks for the coffee,” I said. “I hope your goddaughter is found safe and well. But…respectfully…I decline to take on your case.”
    â€œMay I ask why?”
    â€œYou can ask,” I said. “But I’m not obliged to say.”

Chapter 9
    Driving away, I started slamming my fists against the steering wheel, roaring inside the confines of the car.
    Torn between wanting to find the girl.
    And wanting to find Burns guilty.
    Of anything.

    After the incident at the Western Necropolis where I had shot one man in self-defence, came close to killing another, it had