Read Online Payback by John Inman - Free Book Online

for you,” he said. “But don’t give up on life just yet. No one really knows what lies in store for us. Love always seems to come along when we least expect it. You’re going through a grieving period now. Try not to let it scar you for the rest of your life. And if it’s any consolation, I think we have a pretty good shot at finding the people who did this to you.”
    “Do you really?” I asked, not believing him for a second. “It’s been almost a month already. What big break in the case do you think is going to turn up now?” I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but I knew I wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
    Chris seemed to understand my anger. Being in his line of work, I supposed he would. “There was a lot about the attack we didn’t know until three days ago, Tyler, when you woke up and started talking to us. The way I see it, the investigation didn’t really start a month ago when the assailants struck. It started the minute you opened your eyes and told us what had happened. That’s when this case really got moving. It’s not a cold trail. It’s not a cold case. Hell, the investigation is just beginning. Give us a chance. Don’t give up hope yet. All right?”
    I stared at his eager, honest face, at the compassion in his tired eyes, at the determined slant of his broad shoulders. For the first time, I realized there was a gun in a shoulder holster strapped to his side. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it there before.
    “All right,” I said, as weary and downhearted as I had ever been in my life. I let my eyes trail from the gun to the stack of photo albums he had placed on the floor beside the coffee table. “If we’re done eating, maybe I should be looking at your pictures now.”
    “They’re booking photos. Mug shots,” he said with a gentle smile. “We call them mug shots.”
    “All right then. Mug shots.” I gave him a tiny smile back.
    The smile felt good on my face. Chris must have enjoyed the sight of it as well. He stared at it for a long moment with an odd, quizzical expression. Then, as if remembering what he was there to do, he pushed away the mess of sandwich bags and napkins and all the other detritus from our hastily arranged meal and placed the first of the photo albums in front of me on the table.
    Before he opened it for me, he said, “I hope you’re still trying to remember everything about that night you can. We’ve canvassed the neighborhood but we need your help too. As you start feeling better, maybe your mind will open up a little more. Maybe more memories will start seeping in. About the people you saw as you and Spence were walking to the park. Or more importantly, the people you saw at the park itself. People who might remember seeing three men go into the restroom. People who might even have been frightened by the attack they knew was going on and fled the scene not wanting to get involved. Make notes if you have to. Maybe it will keep your thoughts straight.”
    Again I studied his eager face. “You expect a lot,” I said.
    His eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t like my comment. “And so should you,” he said quietly. “I saw what they did to you, Tyler. I was at the hospital when they brought you in. Before the case was even given to me.”
    I blinked back surprise. “How could that be? You saw me? You were there?”
    “It happens all the time, actually. I was investigating a domestic violence case. A woman beaten to within an inch of her life. We had the husband in custody and I was waiting for the wife to wake up and tell me what we already knew, which, by the way, she never did. She died in the emergency room. But while I was waiting, I saw them bring you in. I watched as they treated you.” He reached out and eased my shirt collar aside with his long, capable fingers to expose my tracheotomy scar. “I watched through a window when they did the tracheotomy so you could breathe. They suspected you were concussed, with a skull