Read Online A Killing Rain by P.J. Parrish - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: P.J. Parrish
Ads: Link
Miami-Dade PD?”
“Why?”
“I’m looking for a lost kid and need help getting information.” Louis filled Mel in on everything that had happened . Mel was quiet for a moment.
“Shit, Louis,” he said “You know I didn’t leave there under the best of circumstances.” He paused . “How do you know the kid isn’t already dead?”
“I don’t ,” Louis said.
Mel exhaled again. Louis could almost see him, sitting there in the dark of his apartment, remembering what it was like to work a case.
“You want me to come over there?” Mel asked finally.
Louis tried not to hesitate. “Not yet. Let me try to work it alone.”
Mel coughed. “Okay. I’ll make a call. I got this friend on the force, Joe Frye.”
“I appreciate it Mel.”
Two hours later, the temperature had plunged to forty degrees. Louis shivered as he got out of his car, wrapping his arms across his chest as he looked at the nondescript wooden building facing him. It didn’t look like a restaurant. It was more of a low-slung shack set down among some rundown buildings strung along a poorly lit narrow street. But this is where Mel had told him to meet Joe Frye. The detective was just coming off swing shift and had agreed to meet him.
The restaurant was called Big Fish, but Louis didn’t see any sign. He could certainly smell fish, though, a dank smell that hung in the cold still air, mixing with diesel fumes and river funk. He went up to the door and went in.
A bar on the left with rattan stools and a small dining area to the right. There were French doors that opened out onto a deck, but tonight they were shut against the cold. The place was empty, just a guy behind the bar putting glasses in a dishwasher. He looked up at Louis. “We stopped serving at eleven.”
“I’m looking for Joe Frye. Is he here?” Louis said.
“Joe?” The bartender smiled. He cocked a head to the French doors. “Sure. Outside.”
It was dark out on the deck, the inky Miami River reflecting the gaudy green and purple neon lights of a nearby office building. Louis saw the glow of a cigarette and then a dark form sitting in a chair, long legs propped up on the railing.
“Detective Frye?” he said, going forward. “I’m Louis Kincaid.”
The legs came down and Joe Frye stood up. Louis caught the dull shine of a black leather jacket as the detective stepped into the light coming from inside the restaurant.
Joe Frye was tall, with hair pulled back in a ponytail and a face all angles and lines. Slender, lanky, with just enough curves to tell Louis that Joe Frye was a woman.
“So,” Joe Frye said. “How do you know Mel?”
Louis had a sudden flash of Mel, sitting in his apartment laughing his ass off.
“He’s a friend,” Louis said.
She stared at him, the shadows playing across her face like black fog. A flash of a pale eye, and the fine cut of a white cheekbone.
“A good friend?” she asked.
“The best I got,” Louis said .
She came forward , passing by him and moving to a wooden table. She slid her hip onto the edge, looking out at the river.
“How’s he doing?” she asked.
Louis wasn’t sure how much she knew about Mel’s blindness, and he hesitated. She saw it.
“I know he ’s got RP,” she said. “He told me before he left here.”
“He gets by. He can still see some.”
She was sitting fully in the yellow light of the restaurant now, her eyes still on Louis’s face. She was looking at him in a way that was oddly familiar but he couldn’t place just who had stared at him like that before.
She looked down, picking a piece of lint off her dark pants. “So, who are you chasing here in Miami and why?” she asked .
Louis pulled the photo of Benjamin from his pocket and came to her, holding it out.
“His father took him. We thought he was heading to Australia but he never got on the plane.”
She took the picture, holding it up to the light before she looked back at Louis. “Mel didn’t tell me this was
“Why?”
“I’m looking for a lost kid and need help getting information.” Louis filled Mel in on everything that had happened . Mel was quiet for a moment.
“Shit, Louis,” he said “You know I didn’t leave there under the best of circumstances.” He paused . “How do you know the kid isn’t already dead?”
“I don’t ,” Louis said.
Mel exhaled again. Louis could almost see him, sitting there in the dark of his apartment, remembering what it was like to work a case.
“You want me to come over there?” Mel asked finally.
Louis tried not to hesitate. “Not yet. Let me try to work it alone.”
Mel coughed. “Okay. I’ll make a call. I got this friend on the force, Joe Frye.”
“I appreciate it Mel.”
Two hours later, the temperature had plunged to forty degrees. Louis shivered as he got out of his car, wrapping his arms across his chest as he looked at the nondescript wooden building facing him. It didn’t look like a restaurant. It was more of a low-slung shack set down among some rundown buildings strung along a poorly lit narrow street. But this is where Mel had told him to meet Joe Frye. The detective was just coming off swing shift and had agreed to meet him.
The restaurant was called Big Fish, but Louis didn’t see any sign. He could certainly smell fish, though, a dank smell that hung in the cold still air, mixing with diesel fumes and river funk. He went up to the door and went in.
A bar on the left with rattan stools and a small dining area to the right. There were French doors that opened out onto a deck, but tonight they were shut against the cold. The place was empty, just a guy behind the bar putting glasses in a dishwasher. He looked up at Louis. “We stopped serving at eleven.”
“I’m looking for Joe Frye. Is he here?” Louis said.
“Joe?” The bartender smiled. He cocked a head to the French doors. “Sure. Outside.”
It was dark out on the deck, the inky Miami River reflecting the gaudy green and purple neon lights of a nearby office building. Louis saw the glow of a cigarette and then a dark form sitting in a chair, long legs propped up on the railing.
“Detective Frye?” he said, going forward. “I’m Louis Kincaid.”
The legs came down and Joe Frye stood up. Louis caught the dull shine of a black leather jacket as the detective stepped into the light coming from inside the restaurant.
Joe Frye was tall, with hair pulled back in a ponytail and a face all angles and lines. Slender, lanky, with just enough curves to tell Louis that Joe Frye was a woman.
“So,” Joe Frye said. “How do you know Mel?”
Louis had a sudden flash of Mel, sitting in his apartment laughing his ass off.
“He’s a friend,” Louis said.
She stared at him, the shadows playing across her face like black fog. A flash of a pale eye, and the fine cut of a white cheekbone.
“A good friend?” she asked.
“The best I got,” Louis said .
She came forward , passing by him and moving to a wooden table. She slid her hip onto the edge, looking out at the river.
“How’s he doing?” she asked.
Louis wasn’t sure how much she knew about Mel’s blindness, and he hesitated. She saw it.
“I know he ’s got RP,” she said. “He told me before he left here.”
“He gets by. He can still see some.”
She was sitting fully in the yellow light of the restaurant now, her eyes still on Louis’s face. She was looking at him in a way that was oddly familiar but he couldn’t place just who had stared at him like that before.
She looked down, picking a piece of lint off her dark pants. “So, who are you chasing here in Miami and why?” she asked .
Louis pulled the photo of Benjamin from his pocket and came to her, holding it out.
“His father took him. We thought he was heading to Australia but he never got on the plane.”
She took the picture, holding it up to the light before she looked back at Louis. “Mel didn’t tell me this was
Similar Books
