Read Online No Safe Place (Joe Hunter Thrillers Book 11) by Matt Hilton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Matt Hilton
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back before you know it.’
I could tell Cole was displeased, and was about to argue, but it was as if he knew his appeal would be pointless. ‘Can I have Yoo-hoo?’ he said instead.
‘Yoo-hoo it is,’ said Clayton. As an afterthought he looked at me. ‘You’re OK with keeping an eye on Cole, right?’
‘It’s why I’m here,’ I said, more for the boy’s sake than anything.
Clayton nodded. ‘You want me to grab something for you?’
‘Maybe I’ll try some chocolate milk too,’ I said, and caught a flick of Cole’s attention directed my way. For the first time I noticed his mouth curl up at one side. There were better ways of bonding with a child than over a glass of flavoured milk, but I couldn’t think of one right then. Somehow our shared taste for Yoo-hoo made us allies.
‘…and some Goobers, Dad,’ Cole added, now that he was on a roll.
‘Goobers? They’re chocolate-coated peanut’s, right? I think I’d like some of those too, Mr Clayton.’ I winked at the father, who appreciated what I was doing. He made a pistol of his fingers and pointed them at me.
‘You got it,’ he said, and pulled an imaginary trigger.
Cole barely moved, as Clayton swept past, rubbing his fingers through the boy’s mass of hair before heading for the front door. Cole still toyed at the floor with his sneakers.
I wondered why he looked so different from his father. The boy was tow-headed with expansive curls hanging over his eyes, jutting over his ears and extending over the collar of his T-shirt. He was small for his age, slim to a point of fragility, and had vivid green eyes, though they appeared a little muddied by fatigue as he glimpsed up at me from under his wavy bangs. I knew that some small kids could fill out in puberty, but Cole would have to grow a lot before he matched his dad for brawn. I’d seen photographs of Ella, his mother, and assumed that he’d inherited more genes from her. Ella too had those same green eyes, and wavy hair, and had been tall and willowy. For all I knew Andrew Clayton could have celebrated a full head of curls once, but that was years ago and before his scalp became acquainted with a razor. There was no doubt in my mind whose sweet nature the boy inherited though; he had nothing of Clayton’s pent up aggression, even though he was hurting badly from his loss and could have easily raged at his grief. Right now he only appeared shy, unsure of himself, and more so of me.
‘So you like chocolate milk, huh?’ I said, and immediately felt stupid. I was pushing the flimsy connection too much.
Cole shrugged his narrow shoulders.
He just stood there in the doorway, waiting.
‘You want to ask me something?’ I said. ‘Go ahead. I’ll answer anything you want to know about me.’
‘Are you a police officer?’ he asked timidly.
‘No. Not a policeman.’
‘I thought you were Detective Bryony’s friend.’
‘I am her friend, but I’m not a cop. I’m more like a private cop, if you like?’
‘Oh, a private investigator you mean?’ said the boy.
I laughed in good humour. ‘Yeah, but I’m probably the world’s worst private eye. I’m pretty useless at Cluedo.’
Cole squinted up at me, so maybe he hadn’t heard of the board game.
‘I thought you were here to protect us, not investigate,’ he said.
‘I am. I should have said that I work for a private eye – you met Rink earlier, right?’
Cole nodded. ‘Rink’s funny.’
‘Yep. He is that,’ I said and grinned. I earned a conspiratorial smile from the boy. ‘And incredibly ugly,’ I added with a wink, and this time he laughed. ‘Well, Rink has a private investigations company and I work with him. Usually though, I do -’ I opened my hands, taking in Cole and the house with the gesture ‘- this kind of stuff. I look after people, keep them safe.’
‘So you’re more like a bodyguard then?’
I nodded.
‘Do you have a gun?’
At first I didn’t know how best to answer, except honesty was
I could tell Cole was displeased, and was about to argue, but it was as if he knew his appeal would be pointless. ‘Can I have Yoo-hoo?’ he said instead.
‘Yoo-hoo it is,’ said Clayton. As an afterthought he looked at me. ‘You’re OK with keeping an eye on Cole, right?’
‘It’s why I’m here,’ I said, more for the boy’s sake than anything.
Clayton nodded. ‘You want me to grab something for you?’
‘Maybe I’ll try some chocolate milk too,’ I said, and caught a flick of Cole’s attention directed my way. For the first time I noticed his mouth curl up at one side. There were better ways of bonding with a child than over a glass of flavoured milk, but I couldn’t think of one right then. Somehow our shared taste for Yoo-hoo made us allies.
‘…and some Goobers, Dad,’ Cole added, now that he was on a roll.
‘Goobers? They’re chocolate-coated peanut’s, right? I think I’d like some of those too, Mr Clayton.’ I winked at the father, who appreciated what I was doing. He made a pistol of his fingers and pointed them at me.
‘You got it,’ he said, and pulled an imaginary trigger.
Cole barely moved, as Clayton swept past, rubbing his fingers through the boy’s mass of hair before heading for the front door. Cole still toyed at the floor with his sneakers.
I wondered why he looked so different from his father. The boy was tow-headed with expansive curls hanging over his eyes, jutting over his ears and extending over the collar of his T-shirt. He was small for his age, slim to a point of fragility, and had vivid green eyes, though they appeared a little muddied by fatigue as he glimpsed up at me from under his wavy bangs. I knew that some small kids could fill out in puberty, but Cole would have to grow a lot before he matched his dad for brawn. I’d seen photographs of Ella, his mother, and assumed that he’d inherited more genes from her. Ella too had those same green eyes, and wavy hair, and had been tall and willowy. For all I knew Andrew Clayton could have celebrated a full head of curls once, but that was years ago and before his scalp became acquainted with a razor. There was no doubt in my mind whose sweet nature the boy inherited though; he had nothing of Clayton’s pent up aggression, even though he was hurting badly from his loss and could have easily raged at his grief. Right now he only appeared shy, unsure of himself, and more so of me.
‘So you like chocolate milk, huh?’ I said, and immediately felt stupid. I was pushing the flimsy connection too much.
Cole shrugged his narrow shoulders.
He just stood there in the doorway, waiting.
‘You want to ask me something?’ I said. ‘Go ahead. I’ll answer anything you want to know about me.’
‘Are you a police officer?’ he asked timidly.
‘No. Not a policeman.’
‘I thought you were Detective Bryony’s friend.’
‘I am her friend, but I’m not a cop. I’m more like a private cop, if you like?’
‘Oh, a private investigator you mean?’ said the boy.
I laughed in good humour. ‘Yeah, but I’m probably the world’s worst private eye. I’m pretty useless at Cluedo.’
Cole squinted up at me, so maybe he hadn’t heard of the board game.
‘I thought you were here to protect us, not investigate,’ he said.
‘I am. I should have said that I work for a private eye – you met Rink earlier, right?’
Cole nodded. ‘Rink’s funny.’
‘Yep. He is that,’ I said and grinned. I earned a conspiratorial smile from the boy. ‘And incredibly ugly,’ I added with a wink, and this time he laughed. ‘Well, Rink has a private investigations company and I work with him. Usually though, I do -’ I opened my hands, taking in Cole and the house with the gesture ‘- this kind of stuff. I look after people, keep them safe.’
‘So you’re more like a bodyguard then?’
I nodded.
‘Do you have a gun?’
At first I didn’t know how best to answer, except honesty was
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