Read Online Blood Will Tell by Jean Lorrah - Free Book Online Page B

the cut on her forehead, the trickle of blood down her face. “It's a glass cut,” Church said, reaching back into the car for the first aid kit. “Thank God it missed your eye."
    But the cut took three stitches. By the time Brandy was back at the station, it was early afternoon. Chief Benton gave her the rest of the day off. “I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning,” he added. “Good work today, Mather.” From Benton, it was high praise.
    The cut didn't really hurt, and the blow hadn't been hard enough to give her a headache, so Brandy decided to clean up her house—just in case Dan Martin finally came in this evening. She was vacuuming when the phone rang.
    “Oh. Hi, Mom."
    “Brenda, why did I have to hear on the radio that you were in a shootout this morning?"
    “Just part of my job, Mom."
    “Churchill told me you were injured."
    “I wasn't shot."
    “I didn't say shot. I said injured. And badly enough to be sent home. I'm coming over."
    “No! I mean—I'm just on my way to get some groceries. How about I pick you up, and we can both get some?” If her mother came over, she'd stay all day.
    Melody Mather fussed about the bandage on her daughter's forehead. “You shouldn't be out running around. You should be in bed. Doesn't it hurt?"
    “No, Mom, I'm fine.” Although I'll probably have a headache by the time this shopping trip is over.
    At Kroger's they separated, to meet at checkout. Brandy got apples and peaches, lettuce, carrots, a couple of potatoes, bread, milk, cereal, cat food. She hesitated over frozen dinners, a staple of her existence. Did she want to stock her small freezer with those when—she just might want to do some actual cooking? She tossed four into her basket and went over to the meat counter.
    Men liked steak and a baked potato. It was months since she'd cooked a meal for a man, other than helping Coreen when she went over to Church's house. Something she couldn't mention to her mother, who would wonder why her daughter didn't come to her house on Sundays instead.
    It was too long since she'd had time for shopping; she needed everything. Toilet paper, tissues, dishwashing and laundry detergent, scouring powder, paper towels, tampons—
    On the shelf beside the tampons were condoms.
    Brandy already had some, carried one in her purse, like any modern woman. But those had grown old without ever being used. Defiantly, she plucked a new package off the shelf—and buried it under the tampons and paper towels.
    Melody Mather was in line when Brandy joined the queue, a cautious three aisles away. The package of condoms scanned correctly. No one had to run to get a price check; no one announced over a loudspeaker that she was trying to purchase a package of Trojans. They went into one of the plastic sacks, and were forgotten.
    “My goodness—you've bought out the store!” said Brandy's mother.
    “I haven't had time to do a thorough job in weeks,” she replied, although it wasn't entirely true. She just hadn't had the energy to do more than run in and throw bread, milk, cat food, and frozen dinners into her cart.
    “I don't know why you want to be a policewoman,” said her mother. “It's dangerous, it takes up all your time, and it doesn't pay."
    “We agree that you don't understand, Mom,” Brandy reminded her. “It's what I want to do, and I'm happy."
    “You have a teaching certificate."
    “I don't want to teach. I want to catch murderers and drug dealers. Doesn't it mean anything to you that just this morning I helped to catch a man who has killed two bank guards, a teller, and a bank customer?"
    “It means if he gets loose you could be his next target!” her mother retorted. “I love you, Brenda. I've already lost my son and my husband. Can't you understand that I don't want to lose my daughter, too?"
    I understand that it bothers you that you can't control me anymore , Brandy thought, but she knew better than to open that argument. “I love you, too, Mom.” She started