Read Online Chasing Darkness by Danielle Girard - Free Book Online

damnedest things. He frowned, trying to push Sam out
of his mind. With her sitting beside him, it was almost impossible. Suddenly he
wished he were alone on the job.
    He
rubbed his eyes under the bridge of his sunglasses, pulling them off to massage
the ache he got behind his left eye whenever Sam started to take over his
brain.
    He
glanced at the house and wished this stint was over. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe
Sandi Walters wasn’t killed by anyone she knew. Damn if he wasn’t ready to give
up. Sitting in this car with Sam beside him much longer was going to make him
nuts.
    He
shifted in his seat and took a drink from the warm Coke on the dash. Just then,
a beat-up brown Toyota Camry passed, followed by a white Buick Skylark. Nick
watched the Skylark pull into Sandi’s driveway.
    “Company.”
    Sam
dropped the puzzle and they both watched the car.
    The
driver, a heavyset man with a beard almost as big as his gut, pulled himself
out of the car and dropped a smoking butt onto Sandi’s brown lawn. With a
glance over his shoulder, he opened the front door and let himself in.
    Nick
snatched up the two-way radio. “Three-eleven, this is Thomas. Can you confirm
I.D. ?”
    “This
is Three-eleven. That is a negative.”
    “It’s
not Mick Walters,” Nick repeated to confirm.
    “That’s
correct.”
    He
and Sam exchanged a look.
    “He
knows them well enough to have a key,” Sam said.
    “Not
someone we knew about.”
    Sam
raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone we ought to talk to.”
    “I
agree.” Nick picked up his wireless radio and pressed the black button on the
side to speak. “Check registry on the vehicle.” He repeated the plate number
and said, “Three-six, please stand by to enter the premises.”
    He
and Sam waited in silence for a response.
    Nick
pulled the search warrant from his pocket. He hoped he wouldn’t need it,
especially since it was still blank. How could he have a judge sign it when he
didn’t know what or who the hell he’d want to search?
    “Thomas,
this is dispatch.”
    Nick
activated the radio, keeping one eye on the empty car across the street. “I
read you.”
    “The
car is registered to a James Lugino, address is listed in the city of
Martinez.”
    Nick
made note of the suspect’s name. “Any priors?”
    There
was a brief pause. “Charged with possession during a routine traffic stop. He
served ninety hours community service.”
    Ninety
hours of community service meant pot. “Mary Jane?”
    “Affirmative,”
came the response.
    “Big
step from smoking dope to shooting someone up with heroin and then raping and
killing her,” Sam said, pulling her Kevlar vest down over her head and
strapping the heavy Velcro on her left side. She put her holster on over it and
a blazer over the whole ensemble, looking in all her layers like she was about
to head out onto the ski slopes.
    Nick
pulled on his own vest. He slid the magazine out of his Glock and checked it.
“Let’s hope for some answers and some damn air conditioning.”
    “Wimp.”
    He
threw her a scathing look and spoke into the radio again. “Three-eleven, this
is Thomas.”
    “Three-eleven
responding.”
    “Please
move your vehicle to block the suspect’s and remain in the car for backup. We
will wait for you to be in place before moving in.”
    “Yes,
sir,” came the response.
    Nick
waited, watching as the unmarked cruiser approached and stopped behind James
Lugino’s car. He saw no movement from within.
    Tucking
the extra magazine in his pocket, Nick holstered his gun, put on his
windbreaker, and zipped it to cover the vest. He could already feel the sweat
trickling down his back. The vest made it hotter, but he was better off hot
than dead.
    He’d
learned a hard lesson in his first hours working for the detective division as
a patrol officer. His partner, on a routine set of interviews, had decided not
to don a vest. He’d been shot through a solid oak door as he approached a
suspect’s house. Though the shot