Read Online Ghost Walking (A Maggie York Paranormal Mystery Book 1) by Ally Shields - Free Book Online

that was a brush off if he’d ever seen one. Her eyes were cool, guarded, almost suspicious. She hadn’t looked at him that way when he last saw her. Maybe she jealously guarded her privacy and resented him bringing casework to her home. He could understand that. Whatever the reason, York definitely hadn’t been pleased to see him.
    She’d kept her body angled to prevent him from seeing into her apartment, but his added height was a bonus. Her visitor had been a petit, chestnut-haired woman. Cute, pixie face. But it was the paraphernalia on the floor that surprised him. He wouldn’t have guessed York was into the spiritual stuff. Crystals, candles. But this was New Orleans. Who wasn’t? Except for him.
    He gave a deep sigh, more concerned than he should be over her lack of trust. The woman intrigued him—OK, she was hot—but he had to put that on a back burner. She might be a cop, but she was also a shooting victim. Vulnerable on some levels, definitely deserving of justice and protection. He needed to maintain that perspective. Anything else would be overstepping the line.
    He settled into his unmarked car, puzzling over her sudden wariness. It still bothered him.
     
    * * *
     
     
    Even though it was Saturday, he went into the office the next morning and followed up with Maggie by relaying the autopsy report on Hurst and his girlfriend.
    “Nothing much in it we didn’t know. They were shot with a 9mm. Approximate time of death was forty-eight hours prior to discovery. No other signs of trauma.”
    “So Monday evening. That was right after the fingerprint identification.”
    “Your point?”
    “None. Just noting it.”
    He didn’t believe that. Did she suspect a cop was involved? Or someone in the lab? A leak perhaps?
    “Well, I have to run,” she said. “Thanks for the call, detective. I really appreciate it. I hope you’ll continue to keep me informed.”
    “I’ll do what I can.” He disconnected and leaned back in his desk chair. Definitely something had changed. She’d been matter-of-fact, almost to the point of curtness. Maybe this was a sign of the instability he’d been warned about. In any case, it was a good reminder to keep his distance.
    He spent the next few hours running down associates of Hurst, including Mick, the black guy the bartender had mentioned, checking out the gym where Hurst had spent several mornings a week, and looking through the tip file on the York case. A few items caught his attention—nothing big—but he made a to-do list for follow up. By mid-afternoon, he stacked the files on his desk and left for the firing range.
     
     
     
    Three shooting lanes were already occupied, which left seven open at the police-only firing range. Brandt chose a space two down from the nearest officer. He wasn’t being unfriendly, but in his opinion, the small dividers allowed too many ejected casings to reach the next pod as flying missiles.
    He’d completed three rounds with his Beretta and two with his backup Ruger, when he felt someone watching. He glanced over his shoulder and recognized York’s former partner, Ray Coridan. The other detective’s jawline was stiff, and he looked like a man with something to say. Sure enough, Coridan pointed to the earmuffs, then the door. The invitation was plain.
    Curious, Brandt nodded. He shot one more round with the Ruger, then packed his gear. Coridan was waiting outside the door.
    “Nice shooting,” Coridan said. “You must spend a lot of time at the range.”
    His words were friendly enough but clipped, as if hurrying through the formalities.
    “A fair amount.” Brandt waited for him to get to the point. It sure wasn’t his shooting ability.
    “You took Maggie back to the courtyard.”
    “It was helpful for me to understand what happened that night.” Where the hell was this going?
    “She’s not ready. I talked to her afterward, and she was shaky. Maggie’s come a long way, and I don’t want some hot shot from back East to