What the River Knows by Katherine Pritchett Read Free Book Online Page B

around the patio table, but their discussion involved surgical research. He found it interesting, but had nothing to contribute. He finished his beer and turned to see if Ambrose had a trash can or recycling bin for it. The receptionist took the empty bottle from his hand and pressed another into it.
    By the time Ambrose announced the steaks were ready, she had removed that one from his hand, as well. He grabbed a bottle of water to have with dinner, but when he looked up from his salad, another beer stood beside it. He tried to ignore the beer, but when the water bottle ran dry, he reached for the beer.
    Finally, the wife of the doctor sitting nearest him asked, “I understand you’re working on that murder case.”
    He nodded. “Yes, we’re on a murder case.”
    “The one where the woman was raped and tortured?” Her wide eyes and rapid breathing told him she wanted the sordid details.
    “The Delia Enfield case.” He wasn’t about to offer information, sordid or not.
    “I heard she was raped multiple times.”
    “Rumors run rampant on most cases.”
    “So that’s just a rumor?”
    “I can’t discuss the case now.” His refusal to offer information shut down conversation with him. After dinner, people drifted into small groups, and he found himself conversing with a ficus tree. He saluted it with the beer that had replaced the dinner one.
    “So,” he addressed the silent tree. “Do you just hang out on the patio all day?” The beer went down easy, and his companion asked no questions.
    ****
    The icy silence in the car almost made the air conditioner irrelevant. Scott leaned his head against the window, hoping the ninety-plus degrees outside the car would thaw the way Rica felt about him right now. He felt her gaze upon him. “Rica—” he began.
    “Don’t even start, Scott.” She cleared her throat waiting for the light to change. “Not until you sober up.”
    “But, Rica, I only had—”
    “I don’t care how much you had to drink, Scott.” She punched the gas to pull away from the stoplight and the acceleration pushed him back against the seat. And his stomach into his throat. “The fact is that you had enough to be drunk and stupid.” His head hit the window when she turned the corner onto their street. “Enough to cost me my chance at chief surgical nurse.”
    “Rica, I’m sorry.” He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t form themselves into any order that made sense.
    She swerved into her parking space, hit the brakes, hopped out of the car, and slammed her door. Scott opened his door. She stood at the front passenger corner of the car. “Get your ass in the house within the next two minutes or you’ll be sleeping in the car,” she hissed. She spun on her heel and marched toward the stairs.
    Scott couldn’t seem to get disentangled from the seatbelt. It wasn’t fastened any more, but it wouldn’t let him go, either. Finally, he more or less fell from the seatbelt and the car. Closing the door, he worked his way toward the stairs. He had to grab the rail to make it to the top. It swayed like a rope bridge instead of the solid staircase he knew it to be. Rica was right; he was drunk.
    He got through the door to the apartment, though it took him several seconds to get it locked once he was inside. Rica hadn’t left any lights on, so he fumbled his way to the bathroom. Brushing his teeth proved a challenge, but he completed the task. He turned toward the bedroom only to realize that the door was shut. He stared at the closed door, blinking, for several minutes before making his way to the couch.

Chapter 11
    The front door slammed, then the sunlight through the east living room window slapped him in the face. Grasping the top of his head with his hands, he opened his eyes to slits. Sunlight meant it was morning. Morning meant the slamming door must have been Rica leaving for work. Rica leaving for work meant that he still had time for a shower before he had to be at the