Read Online Tell Me No Lies by Annie Solomon - Free Book Online Page A

made a name for herself in the newly formed Russian market?" He turned the statement into a question, as though this were a game.
    Petrov growled. The only games he played were of his own making, and this wasn't one of them. "What do you know about her that I don't know?"
    "I I'm not sure I understand." Greer hesitated, and Petrov pictured the man shoving back the black frames of his glasses. "What is this about, Mr. Petrov?"
    "I want you to find out everything you can about Alex Baker."
    "Why? Is there a problem?" Worry edged Greer's voice. Renaissance Oil was his project, the first he'd been given to handle from start to finish, and he had a personal stake in seeing it through to a positive outcome. "She's perfectly respectable, has all the right contacts, speaks "
    "Just do it. And Greer?"
    "Yes, Mr. Petrov?"
    "If you want to ensure the future of Renaissance Oil, don't tell anyone what you are doing."
    "But-"
    "Am I clear?"
    "Yes, Mr. Petrov."
    "I'd hate to tell your superiors you haven't been cooperative."
    "No, Mr. Petrov."
    Miki grunted in approval. "Good." He appreciated a man who was easy to manipulate.
    ***
    Hank's morning hadn't gone well. Neither he nor Klimet had found any of the mopes McTeer had alibied up with. At ten, he got a call from Ricky Garza at Juvie. Trey had got into another fight at school and, while supposedly cooling his heels in the principal's office, had managed to cut out altogether. A patrol unit had caught him downtown, breaking windows and spray-painting the back of the municipal building. They'd brought him in, and Hank spent the rest of the morning dealing with the damage.
    A good portion of that time was used up in a fruitless attempt to talk to Trey about what had happened, but the kid clammed up like McTeer in the interview room with Klimet, and no appeal to the Knicks or any other topic broke the kid's silence.
    Hank didn't want Trey to end up a tough guy like McTeer. And he didn't want himself to turn into a bully like Klimet. But if things didn't improve, he was afraid they were both headed down that road.
    After dropping Trey off at Apple House, where he was put to work under Rose's watchful eye, Hank drove back downtown to pick up the keys they'd found in Luka Kole's pocket. Through a cable TV bill, Fenelli had tracked down Kole's home to a west side apartment complex in a scruffy part of town,, once solidly blue-collar, now edging lower. A lot of GE plant workers had lived there, and when the plant closed the neighborhood had slowly deteriorated. Riverside Towers was no exception.
    He stopped by the manager's office for directions, got back in his car, and cruised slowly down the road toward the back end of the development. He found the apartment easily enough, on the top floor of a two-story structure in need of a new coat of paint.
    He inserted one of the keys from Kole's key ring in the lock, but the door swung open. A human sound, like a gasp, hit him and without thinking, he pulled back against the outer wall and drew his weapon.
    He faced the sun, which simmered and pulsed, a bright ball of Mojave heat. Sweat beaded up. The last time he'd burst into an enclosed space where he knew someone was waiting for him, people had died. Deep inside his head he heard his brother-in-law's taunts, the tinny sound of a heavy weight hitting metal. He hadn't known it then, but that had been Maureen going down, her body bouncing off the side of the toolshed.
    The scar on Hank's chest seemed to throb beneath his shirt, and he rubbed the place where Tom Stiller had plunged the screwdriver in. Christ, his hand-was shaking.
    Unless whoever was in Kole's apartment wanted to risk breaking a leg or worse by jumping out a window, there was no way out except the stairs, an exit he now controlled.
    "This is the police," he called. "Come out, hands on your head." Silence.
    Who was inside? Rapidly he ran through the options. The killer coming for more. A burglar. A relative. Harmless, not harmless. Armed,