Read Online Stolen Lives: A Detective Mystery Series SuperBoxset by Roger Hayden, James Hunt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roger Hayden, James Hunt
Tags: General Fiction
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sympathetic expression. He was about the only one in the department she trusted anymore. “We understand. But this is too much for one person to go through alone. Let us help you. Let us… do our jobs.”
Miriam’s looked up at him. “Thank you.” She then excused herself from the room, saying that she had to use the bathroom.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Porter said as Miriam opened his office door, causing her to pause.
“I know…” she said, with her back still turned to him.
Porter looked at his wrist watch. “Shit. I have a press conference in five minutes.” He shot up from his chair as she walked out into the crowded hall and toward the holding rooms.
Miriam walked past several uniformed police officers huddled together, shaking their heads and still complaining about the news of the Andersons’ release. No one noticed her, and she only recognized a few faces. Much, it seemed, had changed since she left the force the year prior. There were a lot of new officers, but much of the old guard still ran the place.
She couldn’t help but miss being a cop. It was a part of who she was. Her father, Manuel, was a retired police chief. Her mother, Elizabeth, was a corrections counselor. Together, they’d had high expectations of their only child.
Fresh out of high school, she joined the Air Force—where she met Freddy. Four years later, they moved to Washington, D.C. She went to school to study criminal justice. Freddy had his sights set on a law degree—but never finished school. The “pressure” made him drink. And his drinking changed everything. Miriam earned her bachelor’s and enrolled in the police academy while Freddy got a county job of his own as a bus driver.
By twenty-six, Miriam was a newly sworn-in deputy, following in her father’s footsteps. She got pregnant with Ana and took some time off. By Ana’s first birthday, they had moved to Miami—a fresh start as a family.
The exact circumstances that brought Miriam to Palm Dale were blurry. The relocation followed her divorce after five years of marriage. She enlisted with the Lee County Police Department as a sergeant and continued her career in law enforcement. Everything had changed, however, on the fateful day her partner was shot during a routine traffic stop. She always blamed herself, and had resigned as a result. Now the shooter was in her grasp. Phillip Anderson would see justice. Deputy Lang deserved that much.
She walked past the third holding room, where Anderson’s lawyer, Kershner, was standing and talking with Boone and Judith. In mid-conversation, both parents looked up as if sensing her—their feelings masked behind two wrinkled and emotionless faces. What they thought of her, Miriam didn’t know or care.
The Anderson boys exited their holding rooms with officers on each side. They were big men with farmer’s tans and varying degrees of reddish, dirty-blond facial hair. Greg and Walter were still wearing their oil-stained mechanic jumpsuits. Jake, the youngest of the three, wore a red flannel jacket and torn jeans. Criminal masterminds they weren’t, but Miriam believed there to be much more to them than brutish appearances.
She continued toward the restroom farther down the hall as the entire family paused to watch her. Her eyes remained forward, though she wanted them to see her. Phillip had to know that she was alone. It was only then that he seemed to call her.
“Ms. Castillo!” an FBI man called out.
With her purse around her shoulder, Miriam walked straight into the restroom without turning around. Inside, it looked clean and unoccupied. She took her phone out and went to the corner stall, closing the door. She held the screen up. It stared back at her, displaying two missed calls from her parents and one from her boss at East Coast Trucking. They’d have to wait.
She leaned against the wall and held the phone in both hands. “Come on…” she said, staring down.
The phone suddenly
Miriam’s looked up at him. “Thank you.” She then excused herself from the room, saying that she had to use the bathroom.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Porter said as Miriam opened his office door, causing her to pause.
“I know…” she said, with her back still turned to him.
Porter looked at his wrist watch. “Shit. I have a press conference in five minutes.” He shot up from his chair as she walked out into the crowded hall and toward the holding rooms.
Miriam walked past several uniformed police officers huddled together, shaking their heads and still complaining about the news of the Andersons’ release. No one noticed her, and she only recognized a few faces. Much, it seemed, had changed since she left the force the year prior. There were a lot of new officers, but much of the old guard still ran the place.
She couldn’t help but miss being a cop. It was a part of who she was. Her father, Manuel, was a retired police chief. Her mother, Elizabeth, was a corrections counselor. Together, they’d had high expectations of their only child.
Fresh out of high school, she joined the Air Force—where she met Freddy. Four years later, they moved to Washington, D.C. She went to school to study criminal justice. Freddy had his sights set on a law degree—but never finished school. The “pressure” made him drink. And his drinking changed everything. Miriam earned her bachelor’s and enrolled in the police academy while Freddy got a county job of his own as a bus driver.
By twenty-six, Miriam was a newly sworn-in deputy, following in her father’s footsteps. She got pregnant with Ana and took some time off. By Ana’s first birthday, they had moved to Miami—a fresh start as a family.
The exact circumstances that brought Miriam to Palm Dale were blurry. The relocation followed her divorce after five years of marriage. She enlisted with the Lee County Police Department as a sergeant and continued her career in law enforcement. Everything had changed, however, on the fateful day her partner was shot during a routine traffic stop. She always blamed herself, and had resigned as a result. Now the shooter was in her grasp. Phillip Anderson would see justice. Deputy Lang deserved that much.
She walked past the third holding room, where Anderson’s lawyer, Kershner, was standing and talking with Boone and Judith. In mid-conversation, both parents looked up as if sensing her—their feelings masked behind two wrinkled and emotionless faces. What they thought of her, Miriam didn’t know or care.
The Anderson boys exited their holding rooms with officers on each side. They were big men with farmer’s tans and varying degrees of reddish, dirty-blond facial hair. Greg and Walter were still wearing their oil-stained mechanic jumpsuits. Jake, the youngest of the three, wore a red flannel jacket and torn jeans. Criminal masterminds they weren’t, but Miriam believed there to be much more to them than brutish appearances.
She continued toward the restroom farther down the hall as the entire family paused to watch her. Her eyes remained forward, though she wanted them to see her. Phillip had to know that she was alone. It was only then that he seemed to call her.
“Ms. Castillo!” an FBI man called out.
With her purse around her shoulder, Miriam walked straight into the restroom without turning around. Inside, it looked clean and unoccupied. She took her phone out and went to the corner stall, closing the door. She held the screen up. It stared back at her, displaying two missed calls from her parents and one from her boss at East Coast Trucking. They’d have to wait.
She leaned against the wall and held the phone in both hands. “Come on…” she said, staring down.
The phone suddenly
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