Read Online Slow Burn by Heather Graham - Free Book Online

little slack here, huh?”
    She started to answer then went still again as they both heard trees rustling nearby and felt the tremor of the earth near them. Loose particles fell around them. Spencer felt the blood draining from her face.
    David motioned to her to get down. She shrank against the wall of the grave, hunching as low as she could. Someone came nearer and nearer, very near. So near that he was looking into the open grave…
    Suddenly David pressed away from the opposite wall, catching the man’s ankle as he had caught hers, causing him to plummet wildly into the grave. He landed with a hard whack, sending dirt flying into Spencer’s face. In the darkness she barely saw him raise his head. A moonbeam caught the light of his eyes against their frame of knit ski mask, making them glitter. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Spencer heard a click as David cocked his gun.
    â€œRise slowly, quietly—and carefully,” David warned.
    The figure began to follow instructions. Even as he did, Spencer could hear the sound of sirens in the night. Closing in. But she was still standing in an open grave—empty other than the living, she prayed—with David and a grave robber. The space seemed to be way too small for the three of them.
    She became aware of shouting, the grave robbers calling out in anger, warning one another, some cries in English, some in Spanish. Lights were flaring, and there were other calls now. “Halt, police! Stop, or we’ll shoot!”
    The cemetery suddenly seemed ablaze as the beams of flashlights cut across it.
    â€œCan we get out of here?” Spencer asked David.
    David shrugging, keeping an eye on the robber who was sharing their hole in the earth. “Since the police have just warned everyone that they’ll shoot, we might be better off down here for a few minutes.” He grinned. “Then we can let our friend crawl up first.”
    Was it seconds, minutes or eons longer? Eventually someone called out, “Delgado, where are you?”
    â€œHere!” David cried.
    In a few moments a uniformed officer was staring down at the three of them, perplexed. Spencer realized that she knew him. She had danced with him one year at the policemen’s ball. His name was Tim Winfield. “Mrs. Huntington?” he inquired incredulously.
    â€œGive the lady a hand up, Officer Winfield,” David suggested.
    â€œOh, yeah, of course.”
    Tim Winfield was young but strongly muscled. He clutched Spencer’s hands, lifting her easily out of the grave. He kept staring at her once she was standing by his side.
    â€œNow you,” David told his captive. He looked at the young cop. “Might want to give this fellow a hand, too, Winfield. But keep an eye on him while you do.”
    David hopped out of the grave even as Tim Winfield pulled the ski-masked culprit up to ground level. When they were all standing, a plainclothes man Spencer hadn’t met before came forward. She might not know him, but David did.
    â€œLieutenant,” David acknowledged.
    â€œMr. Delgado,” the cop said, offering him a handshake and staring at Spencer. “We’ve been after these guys for a long time. Thanks for the call.” He stared again at Spencer, taking in her black outfit, smiling.
    â€œA new investigator on the payroll, David?” the lieutenant inquired, amused as he assessed Spencer. He was tall and lean, with thinning brown hair, but he had a decent enough smile.
    Officer Winfield gasped, letting out a choking sound, then pretending to cough.
    â€œNo, Lieutenant Anderson, this is Mrs. Huntington. Mrs. Daniel Huntington.”
    â€œOh!” the lieutenant said, looking at Spencer in a new light. He was, she knew, wondering what the hell she was doing dressed up like one of the grave robbers.
    â€œSpencer likes to walk at night. In strange places,” David offered.
    â€œDangerous places,” Anderson said,