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

other outlaw bikers in line.”
    Based on the patches that had been stripped from the vest and from Marty’s refusal to talk to him on the phone, I’m not sure how “dear” daddy really was, but Dave bolted up in his seat. “The head enforcer who’s on his way here?” he said.
    â€œThe same one,” Hale said. “But don’t worry, his record is clean.”
    I couldn’t believe it. “No arrests?”
    â€œNone. The man’s far enough up the food chain that he doesn’t get his hands dirty.”
    â€œSo, he’s under federal investigation,” Dave said.
    â€œNo investigations are ongoing.” Hale leaned back in his chair and stretched, rubbing the back of his neck, and something clicked.
    He’s lying . I heard Kevin’s voice in my head as clearly as if he were still alive next to me. It was ten—no, almost fifteen, I realized—years ago, the year the three of us first met. Kevin, Hale, and I sat at a table in Shea’s, the bar popular with students from Quantico. Kevin wore a powder-blue suit; I wore a white prom dress and pig’s blood. I was Carrie and he was my date.
    â€œYou’re a natural,” Kevin said, straightening his curly blond wig. “With your cornflower blue eyes and blond hair, you were made to play Carrie.”
    â€œPlus you’re pretty flat chested,” Hale added. I kicked him under the table.
    The night was our first outing after “the disaster.” Hale winked at us, saying he would be right back, the knob attached to his belt jangling against his buckle as he bolted from the table. He was costumed as a door this Halloween, which involved little effort and the opportunity to waggle his eyebrows and invite people to “turn his knob.” Right now he was talking to Missy Fenwick, a petite redhead who was tan all year round. I tried to push down the jealousy rising in me.
    â€œWho’s going to trust an FBI agent named Missy?” I knew how petty I sounded.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Kevin replied, “she has a long and illustrious career of undercover work in prostitution trafficking ahead of her. As does Hale.” As if sensing that we were talking about him, Hale raised his beer at us. I groaned and mashed my face against Kevin’s shoulder.
    â€œHe’s lying,” I heard Kevin say.
    â€œWhat?” I picked my head up. I rubbed some of the fake pig’s blood off his suit, dabbing it with beer, but he grabbed the napkin out of my hand and pointed at Hale.
    â€œLook. He’s rubbing the back of his neck while he talks to Missy. After living with the man for two months I know. He always does that when he’s lying.”
    Through the rest of the conversation, Hale rested his hand against the back of his tanned neck.
    I couldn’t help myself: “He’s lying a lot. You’re completely right!” A weight lifted off my shoulders and I smiled for the first time in a week. “You’re so observant. Have you considered a career in law enforcement?”
    Kevin laughed, and adjusted my tiara.
    â€œYou’d be surprised at what I see, June.” His breath was warm against my ear.
    â€œJune, anything else?” Hale said, smiling at me as if we were old buddies.
    I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. “Yeah, our victim. You folks really don’t have anything, even word of mouth, about what went down at college?”
    Hale sat back and rested his hand on the back of his neck, and I struggled not to belt him as he said, “I know she was expelled. I know there was a civil suit, but the terms of the suit are confidential.”
    â€œWe’ll ask the Brouillettes tomorrow,” Dave said. “You’ll be there, right?”
    Hale nodded.
    â€œLyons and I will be stopping by the coroner’s bright and early but will meet you there.” Dave stood and stretched. He had a long torso, and his shirt pulled out