US Marshall 01 - Cold Ridge by Carla Neggers Read Free Book Online

next shuttle back here. Just say the word."
    Five minutes after Antonia left, Nate called from New York. He didn't want to hear about crackers and blue Gatorade-he wanted to make sure Carine had told the police absolutely everything and wasn't going to get involved any more than she had to be. She assured him she was being the good soldier.
    "Good," he said. "Keep it that way."
    Her brother, too wanted her to go back to Cold Ridge. He'd left their hometown, and Antonia had left, but they both still considered it home, their refuge. Carine, who'd never left, wasn't as nostalgic about it, and she didn't like the idea that she might run into Tyler North.
    She promised Nate she'd take care of herself and hung up, pouring herself a glass of Gatorade. She hoped she kept it down, because damned if she wanted to throw up anything blue.
     
    ***
     
    Ty made the three-hour trip to Boston in under two-and-a-half hours, but lost time in Inman Square and the tangle of five million streets that radiated out from it. He went past a fancy bakery, a hardware store, a lesbian bookstore, several churches, a mosque, service stations, a Portuguese restaurant, a Mexican restaurant, a Moroccan restaurant, a Jewish deli, a Tibetan rug shop and an Irish bar with a shamrock on its sign. He went down the same one-way street twice. Maybe three times. Where the hell was his GPS when he needed it? Never mind satellite navigation-he could have used a damn map.
    Finally, he found his way to a crowded street of multifamily homes with pumpkins and mums on their front steps and foldout paper turkeys and Pilgrim hats in their windows. There were a few fake cobwebs strung to fences, left over from Halloween. A couple of strings of orange lights in the shape of little plastic pumpkins. Hank Callahan and Manny Carrera, who'd both been inside Carine's apartment, reported that it was a solid, working-class neighborhood, but her building needed a little work.
    Her building was a dump. The porch roof sagged. The steps had holes in them. The whole place needed paint. Outdoor lighting was nonexistent. Tall, frostbitten hollyhocks bent over the walkway-Carine's doing, no doubt. She'd always loved hollyhocks. The neighborhood dogs probably loved them, too.
    A pack of boys careered down the dark street on scooters and skateboards. One kid, who couldn't have been more than thirteen, had a cigarette dangling from his mouth. It was just shy of ten o'clock on a school night. North mentally picked out which ones he'd liked to see go through PJ indoc. Pass or fail, they'd get in shape, learn a little something about themselves.
    "Live free or die," the boy with the cigarette yelled as he sailed past North's truck with its New Hampshire plates and their Live Free or Die logo. "Yeah, go for it, woodchuck."
    That one, he thought. That one he'd liked to see tossed in a pool with his hands and feet tied.
    On the other hand, maybe the kid would make a good pararescueman. Stick with it, don't give up, don't drown-it wasn't always easy to tell who'd make it and who'd wash out.
    Antonia Winter Callahan, wife of senator-elect Hank Callahan, lifted a swooning hollyhock out of her path, stood on the main sidewalk a moment, then frowned and marched up to Ty's truck. He kept a truck in Florida, too. This was his at-home truck.Rusted, nicely broken in. Recognizable to someone who'd known him most of his life.
    He rolled down his window. "Nice night. Warmer down here in the big city."
    "I don't believe you, Ty. Gus didn't send you, did he? No, of course he didn't. What was I thinking?" She groaned, her hands clenched at her sides. "God, Ty, you're not what Carine needs right now. She's been sick to her stomach."
    "She's never come upon a murder before."
    Antonia nodded reluctantly, calmer. "It's awful. She knew the victim, Louis Sanborn. He worked for the Rancourts. Did you know him?"
    "No."
    Her eyes narrowed. "You heard Manny Carrera was on the scene? He's had a rough year. He-" She broke