Read Online Ice Shear by M. P. Cooley - Free Book Online

work.” I climbed into the passenger seat. I had plenty of room: the cruiser was new and outfitted with a laptop terminal, not that the city could afford the computers.
    We made a U-turn, passing Marty and Ray as they trudged along. Marty rested his gloved hand on his brother’s neck, guiding and comforting. I could see neighbors watching the brothers, some openly but most half hidden, peering from behind curtains or through gaps rubbed in the condensation from the ancient steam radiators. The neighbors didn’t want to get hauled into this murder, not when they had troubles of their own. Outsiders caused this trouble. As long as it didn’t touch them, they were fine.

CHAPTER 6
    C HIEF DONNELLY’S LONG-SERVING WOODEN chair creaked under the strain of his aggrieved suffering.
    â€œCan we get another seat in here?” he said.
    â€œAnd put it where?” Jerry demanded.
    Much as I hated to admit it, Jerry was right. The office comfortably sat three, and five exhausted people were a strain. I felt rested having spent the afternoon with Lucy, drifting in and out of sleep on the couch with her nestled next to me. Usually she wouldn’t have sat still that long, but I let her watch SpongeBob and she was riveted.
    Perched on one of the deep windowsills, I felt lucky to avoid the crush around the desk: Chief Donnelly, Jerry, Dave, and Special Agent Hale Bascom. I couldn’t see Hale’s face from my seat, which was fine with me. I had hoped never to see him again. I slid backward on the sill until my shoulders were pressed against the window. The chill seeped through all four layers of clothing I was wearing. “The Brouillettes wish to have the body released,” Jerry said, brandishing his cell phone, a proxy for the congresswoman and her husband. “They want to have the wake tomorrow night.”
    â€œWe want to accommodate any parents of a murdered child,” Dave said. “But the truth of the matter is that the coroner might need to keep the body up to forty-eight hours. A case this high profile—we can’t afford to make any mistakes.”
    â€œAnd do these plans sit right with your partner?” Hale asked. I slid forward and faced him. The first of what no doubt would be a cadre of feds, he appeared every inch the FBI agent: fit body in a no-longer-required black suit, undoubtedly made by a tailor who’d worked with his family for six generations. Close-cropped hair, so conservative you wouldn’t know he artfully applied product to tame the cowlicks. He had a handsome face, with a square jaw, and intelligent green eyes. The only thing that was out of place with his G-man image was the lips: full and currently set in a half smile.
    I addressed the room. “The wake will be a good place to meet those close to her, people who might—”
    â€œOfficer Lyons,” Jerry interrupted, “is assisting on an as-needed basis. Correct?” He glared at the chief.
    â€œThe Bureau would like to request,” Hale said, “that she be assigned as a full-time liaison on this case.” Hale’s voice sounded rough, the southern accent absent, but I knew it would come out the moment Hale wanted people to trust the dumb good ol’ boy.
    â€œAny particular reason?” Jerry asked.
    â€œI’d think it would be obvious. However, to state it plainly: With the FBI’s involvement in the case, it would be good if we could have someone on your end who understands what information our agents need. And when.”
    Great. Hale had announced to the room that he wanted me on the case so that I could spy on my fellow officers. Dave seemed fine with my new role, nodding along with everything Hale said.
    Jerry was having none of it.
    â€œAs the person responsible for prosecuting this case, I need to ensure that we have the best possible—”
    Ignoring Jerry, Hale stood and motioned me up. He raised his right hand and signaled for me to