Read Online Charred by Kate Watterson - Free Book Online Page A

same graduate program.” The other man took a sip of wine and regarded him with a bit of amusement, the light wind ruffling his hair. “From a psychological viewpoint, you don’t seem her type.”
    “But you don’t know me.” Asshole . He didn’t add it, but really wanted to, except he could tell Kate was already pissed off at him.
    “Good point. I just meant the job. She’s very cerebral.”
    Cerebral. Who the hell talks like that?
    He pointed out in his most pleasant voice, “Police officers have to actually think, believe it or not. Solving crimes requires it.”
    Brian looked amused, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Point taken.”
    Competition? All at once, he thought so. Kate was attractive; if he didn’t think so, they wouldn’t be living together.
    “Hey, nice to meet you.” Wilfong—what kind of a name was that?—walked away.
    Jason watched him go, thinking about how much he despised so-called intellectuals who thought they were superior just because of a few letters after their name. He and Kate were having a few problems … maybe Brian was one of them.
    The lake was busy, lights on the boats sending glimmers over the water, and soon the fireworks would go off, and really, as much as he felt out of place, from this view, it was no doubt going to be spectacular.
    All in all, Jason decided as he took a look at the well-dressed crowd, he’d rather be investigating the case. What did that say about him?
    Maybe one day he’d ask Kate, the psychologist.
    Except he was a little afraid to hear the answer.

 
    Chapter 6
     
    Almost dawn. That promising glimmer on the horizon. The subtle outline of the building next door taking shape was like a ghost, only a hint at first, but something was out there. The faint burned smell of coffee filled the room, the glowing light on the machine a red eye in the darkness. Coffee smelled good when it was brewed, but like crap when it sat there for hours.
    My old man used to drink it morning, noon, and night.
    For years I couldn’t walk into a breakfast place without a twist in my stomach at that smell, like a belly punch. Needless to say, I don’t like to be reminded of him. I’ve gotten over it, luckily, and so I poured myself another cup and went back to my window.
    Resilience is a gift. A person can really adjust to almost anything, I’ve found.
    Almost. Maybe adjust is the wrong word. Acclimate works better.
    JULY 5
     
    Ellie slowly stirred her cup of coffee, tasted it, and then added more sugar. Watching the fireworks had been nice the night before, but unfortunately she’d been late—too late for the cookout, but Bryce’s parents had been gracious about that. As soon as she met them for the first time she could see where their son got his easygoing demeanor. That was all well and good, but she’d been starving. He’d made her a sandwich at about eleven o’clock, when he’d finally asked her if she’d had a chance to eat, and even though she’d stayed the night with him, she’d been way too tired for anything except falling asleep the minute she crawled into bed.
    “You made coffee. Thanks.” He wandered out into the kitchen, boxers only, his hair an unruly mess of midnight curls, opened the cupboard and took out a cup.
    “I fell asleep on you,” she said by way of apology.
    “If only.” He opened the refrigerator and rummaged for the milk, of which there was none—she already knew because she’d looked for it earlier. “ On me would have been great, but next to me is still nice. Damn, no milk. This happens all the time.”
    It was impossible not to laugh at the disappointed mutter. “I’ll go out and get some. Least I can do.”
    “No, I throw most of it out anyway because I only use it in coffee. You’d think I’d figure that out. It’s more sensible economically to just never buy it. Half the time when I pour it out it’s like cottage cheese.” He filled his cup and came over to drop into an opposite chair at the kitchen