Read Online Night Secrets by Thomas H. Cook - Free Book Online

He wasn’t sure where it came from, perhaps nothing more than the intensity of her look, the dark skin and black eyes, the long, loosely tangled hair. Often, momentous things could be reduced to such small elements, slight and trivial in themselves, but that produced an atmosphere of inescapable longing, a profound disturbance of the peace, an urge to test the limits once again.
    The phone rang, and Frank snapped it up immediately. “Yes?”
    â€œThis better not be a habit, Clemons,” Deegan said sharply. “I’m not on duty twenty-four hours a day, you know.”
    â€œIt’s just that I only have the nights to work this case,” Frank explained.
    â€œWell, what do you want?”
    â€œI was wondering if you’d had time to check me out yet”
    â€œYes, I have.”
    â€œAny problems?”
    â€œYou aren’t always nice to people,” Deegan said bluntly.
    â€œIt depends on the people.”
    â€œWhere does my client fit in?”
    â€œI’d like to see her for a few minutes.”
    â€œWell,” Deegan said after a short hesitation, “I guess that could be arranged.”
    â€œTonight,” Frank said firmly. “It’s the only time I have.”
    â€œAll right, I’m too fucking tired to argue the point,” Deegan said. “I’ll clear you. Be at the Women’s House of Detention in half an hour.”
    â€œOkay,” Frank said. He felt a sudden excitement lift him up like a wild wind, the kind he could still remember from his youth, that careened along the great stone face of the granite canyon, then suddenly shot upward violently, like a spirit from beneath the river’s flat green surface, its cold invisible fingers tearing at his hair.
    He hung up immediately and headed for the door. The old woman groaned as he stepped over her, then glanced up fearfully, her hand reaching for his leg.
    He knelt toward her instinctively and briefly touched her hand. “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s only me.”

S he was escorted by a female guard who held her arm very gently as she guided her into the room, then stepped in front of her and looked sternly at Frank.
    â€œThis the one you wanted to see?” she asked.
    Frank stood up from the long wooden bench, which sat behind an equally long row of tables.
    â€œYes, it is,” he said. “Thanks.”
    â€œThe captain said you could only have ten minutes,” the guard told him. “They’re not supposed to have visitors after eight o’clock.”
    â€œI understand,” Frank told her.
    The guard nodded stiffly and left the room.
    For a moment Frank simply stared at her, noted the small losses that were already visible, the sleek black hair now somewhat dulled, a slight pallor beneath the darkness of her skin. But she stood very erect, and her dark eyes stared directly at him, still immobile and unflinching.
    â€œMy name is Clemons,” he told her quietly.
    She said nothing.
    â€œI’m a private investigator,” he added. “I spoke to your lawyer right after you were arraigned.”
    The dark eyes glared hotly, but she didn’t speak.
    â€œHe got me in to see you,” Frank said. He stepped toward her, and she reacted to his movement instantly, her entire body growing very taut, as if preparing for an assault.
    He stepped back immediately and sank his hands into his pockets. “I’m here to help you,” he said softly.
    Her eyes remained on him, sharp and glittering, like two small fires glowing out of the jungle thickness. Her long brown fingers curled into fists, the nails biting fiercely into the soft flesh of her palms.
    â€œI’d like to ask you a few questions,” Frank said. He waited for her to reply, then went on when she didn’t. “Mostly about the day of the murder,” he added. He took out his notebook and flipped to the first blank page. “A friend of mine