Twisted Innocence (Moonlighters Series Book 3) by Terri Blackstock Read Free Book Online Page A

herself.

CHAPTER 11
    T he idea that Leonard Miller was back in town kept Michael from sleeping. He sat up on his bottom bunk late into the night, studying the notes he kept under his mattress about the man who’d killed his brother and terrorized Cathy’s family.
    His chest hurt, and he rubbed the surgical scar from a few months ago—the consequence of a gunshot wound.
    His new cell mate hung his feet over the top bunk.
    Michael looked up. “Sorry, man. Did the light wake you?”
    “Naw, I just can’t sleep. Sick to my stomach, shaking like a leaf . . .”
    “Would you rather have the bottom bunk so you can get to the bathroom faster?”
    The man slid down to the floor, then considered that. “Yeah, maybe.”
    Michael had waited until his last cell mate was released to claim the bottom bunk, but he figured it hardly mattered now.Craven was covered with sweat. As he stumbled to the toilet again, Michael got up and moved the papers he’d been reading. “Here, take it,” he said when Craven was upright again.
    “Thanks, man.”
    “So what are you withdrawing from?”
    Craven moved the few supplies they’d given him from the upper bunk. “Heroin, Xanax, alcohol.”
    Cold turkey from any one of those could make him sick, but all three could make a person wish he was dead. “Did you see the nurse when they brought you in?”
    “No. I see him tomorrow. Will he give me something that helps?”
    “Maybe.”
    Craven scratched his arms. “You go through this when you came in, dude?”
    “No, I don’t use.”
    That seemed to shut the conversation down. Michael dreaded Craven learning he had been a cop. The moment his last cell mate found that out, he’d accused Michael of being a plant by the DA to snitch on him. That bit of gossip had spread through Michael’s pod like fire, marking a target on his back.
    Michael sat down at the metal desk built into the wall and studied his notebook. Craven looked over his shoulder. “Why are you writing about Lenny Miller?”
    Michael looked back at him. “You know him?”
    “I know of him.” Craven wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel. “Saw him the other day.”
    “You did? Here in town?”
    “Yeah.” Craven went to the toilet and heaved.
    Michael waited, telling himself not to show cop-like interest, pausing while Craven slumped onto the bottom bunk andcurled up in a fetal position. He could hear the man’s teeth chattering.
    Michael washed out a small Styrofoam coffee cup and filled it with water. “Here, drink something.”
    Craven sat up and took the cup, sloshing the water out. He was trembling too badly to hold it, so Michael helped him.
    Craven wiped his mouth. “Thanks, man.”
    “Sure. Detoxing in jail is no picnic.” After a moment, Michael said, “I thought I saw Miller the other day when I was out with the crew. His hair was lighter.”
    “Yeah, blond.”
    “Is he still distributing, or is he a broker now?”
    “Got me. All’s I know is you don’t mess with the dude.”
    “So where did you see him?”
    “In Bayou Park. I was sleeping there. They were . . . exterminating my place.”
    So Craven was homeless. “Yeah? And you saw him there?”
    “Yeah, talking to some scary dudes. I stayed back. Didn’t want to be noticed.”
    “How did you know it was him?”
    “Recognized him from all that time he was on TV during the trial. At first I was like, who is that guy? I know I seen him before. I thought maybe he was an actor or some athlete or somethin’, but then it hits me. That’s that Miller dude from that trial.” Suddenly Craven turned over and squinted at Michael. “Hey, that’s where I seen you too. That’s who you are!”
    Michael turned back to his notebook.
    “During that trial, coupla years ago. You was that cop.”
    Michael didn’t look up. “That trial is what got me here.”
    “Oh yeah, I remember. Perjury, right?”
    Michael didn’t answer. A few minutes later, Craven heavedin the toilet again, and when he was